On June 10, 2024 I walked out of my classroom at my normal time, at the end of the day. I didn’t stop to speak to anyone and I made sure to keep my head down and my hair forward, so no one could see me crying.

I hustled across the parking lot to my car, trying to hyperventilate quietly, threw myself in, and curled into a ball. If I was going to have a panic attack, I was going to do it where no one could see me damnit.

Once I was sure I was alone, I sobbed. And not like, cute, TV sobs. Like loud, ugly, face distorting, sobs. I felt like my chest was cracking in half. I felt like my rage and sadness and fear were bursting out of my skin and it hurt like hell man. I couldn’t organize my thoughts at all…not even to call my husband for help. I dimly worried that I would never stop crying.

(0/10 experience honestly, don’t recommend.)

What’s that? You would appreciate some context?

Sure thing.

June 10th was the day I officially informed my students that I would not be back for the 2024-2025 school year…or any other school years for that matter. It was also the day I decided, like decided decided (no take backsies!) that I was going to blow up my whole life, with no assurances and the barest scrap of a plan. Once I told my students, there was no going back. Not sure why, I just felt like telling them would make it final, more real than it had seemed back in November when I started this whole scheme.

In the weeks before, when I’d turned in my letter (but hadn’t announced my departure), I’d harbored the quiet assurance that I could always change my mind, that I didn’t have to leave, that maybe if I stayed just one more year, things would get better.

I almost didn’t tell them, the kids that is. I almost just left for the year, knowing that I wouldn’t be back, without saying a word.

I was afraid of the emotional fallout. I was afraid I was being selfish and letting them down. I was most afraid that maybe they wouldn’t care. That maybe I’d been the worst possible art teacher and they’d be better off with someone else anyway. But in the end, it was telling them that made me decide decide.

When my students asked why I was leaving, I was honest with them. The short answer is that I was never cut out for teaching within the confines of a public school system, for several reasons, and we were all suffering because of it. And to my absolute shock, they got it. They asked questions about my plans and gave my encouragement on my next steps. We all cried and exchanged instagram handles and promised to stay in touch.

It was almost like the last day of camp or something, now that I think about it, lol.

I’m glad that I decided to tell them. Obviously it would have been totally screwed up to just ghost a bunch of people you’ve spent a semester bonding with. Less obvious though, by answering their questions I finally let go of the idea status quo = safety and happiness. I’m sure it works for some people, but maintaining the way things were was killing me. I acknowledged that I had to resist the impulse to stay still and quietly wonder “what if…”

On June 10, 2024 I looked into the almost-grown up faces of the teenagers I lovingly referred to as my own and I told them:

”If you want to live your life on your own terms, you’re going to have to fight for it. That’s what I’m trying to do.”

And for the first time, I said it with my whole chest.

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So if everything worked out, why did I still end the day having a panic attack in my car?

Because I was scared dude!

In getting rid of the masks and identities I was wearing that had never served me, I suddenly had to deal with the fact that I was raw, exposed, and terrified. My anxiety had been so focused on “ahhhh what will I say?” That I hadn’t spent a lot of time on the whole “now what” part of things and I felt, just totally adrift.

That panic attack was me screaming “NOW WHAT?!” At the entire universe.

But the funny thing about talking to the universe is that it answers, right?

So as I was pouring out my very big feels, a couple of co-workers stopped by my car. I think they were planning to just say hey, but when they saw how totally whacked out I was they stayed to help. They told me it would be okay, reminded me to breathe, cracked jokes to distract me, and made sure I got home safe.

They stayed after work for like 30 minutes just to hold space for me and my meltdown. There was no judgement, no urgency to “get it together”, just two dudes I barely knew, standing by my car, in solidarity with my struggle. They could have left. They could have ignored me in the first place. They could have minimized my feelings. But they didn’t. They showed me solidarity and community.

And that story brings me to the entire point of this post:

Welcome to my version of solidarity and community, friends.

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I may not have all of (or any of :’D ) the answers to big questions artists tend to have. I don’t know the best way to launch yourself as a full-time artist, I don’t know which printer makes the best prints, I don’t know how to make the splashy content that people engage with, I don’t know how to balance freelance work with the rest of my life, or anything about running a business. Lord knows I don’t know how to read those SEO analyzers. But that’s okay, because I’m going to learn. And once I know, I’ll let you know.

This is not a space where someone who has it all together tells you how to do it. This is a space, where someone is working it out in real-time and documenting the process in hopes of helping someone else.

What I know is that making art is as important to me as breathing. I know that sometimes awesome stuff grows from completely scorched earth. I know that holding space for others and letting them hold space for you is how you build community. So welcome to the space I’m holding. I’m hoping that little by little, others will find their way to this corner of the internet and we can take turns teaching, supporting, and growing with each other.

Honestly, even if no one ever comes—even if I never write another blog post—I hope this site, can (at the very least) provide some art tips and a (potentially cautionary…) tale of what happens when you decide to start living that artist life, lol.

So if you’re still reading at this point, we’re basically besties. Pull up a chair, grab your snacks, and get comfy! Something tells me we’re going on a wild ride…

Until next time,

❤ L