Here and Now

  Truth is your name, not the letters behind them, nor your diagnoses, those labels of wife, mother, sister, friend... Breathe in your grace and exhale the stories that hold you back Once I knew a quiet and watchful child who held fears hand befriending a belly that fluttered her sweet racing heart a constant companion Insecurity weaved it’s way into every fiber of her tender being;  a sturdy fabric for such a delicate soul to wear This is your time to undress without shame to shrug the heaviness of that old and tattered garment off your weary shoulders Drape yourself in the finest silks and gossamer threads Inhale the heady fragrance of peace as you release the hand of fears icy grip This is your time... Angela Minard 2021© Photography by~ Kristina Makeeva

  Artwork by~ Masaaki Sasomoto At the height of my eating disorder, when I was entrenched in anorexic behaviors, I also held a full time job working with children with autism and other developmental disabilities. The only time it affected my work was when I took a leave of absence to go into treatment. I have missed work at times for mental health days, and I think that almost everyone at some time in their work history has done that. I would rather take a day for self care than to be sub par at my work. For many people struggling with mental health, routines are a huge part of maintaining normalcy and stability. These days of having extra time on my hands not teaching at the studio have thrown off my routine. I miss the structure, but have found myself feeling more creative, and exploring new ideas. I don’t often embrace change, but it may be time to take more chances, and move out of my comfort zone a bit. I’ve been working on publishing a few volumes of poetry, as well as a memo...

  Weaving the threads of time into a tapestry  the yellow Canary symbolizes the power to control the voice, feelings, and emotions... Strum the harp strings of your heart carrying the echo of your song to the stars and beyond Your infinite vibration rings strong and true... Angela Minard 2021© 

I wrote a post here about the recent presidential election. I composed it before we knew the outcome, and was so anxious, which is often when I write. I never published it. I knew things were going to be bad, but never dreamed the insurrection on January 6th would be one of the outcomes of 45’s hellish 4 years in office. I actually think the day he was sworn in is when my anxiety started to spiral. I started to feel increasingly unsafe, and I’m guessing that many trauma survivors would agree. Hell, not only trauma survivors, but minorities in general.  Last year at the beginning of the pandemic, the anxiety that I’ve always struggled with ramped up to disproportionately high levels. I had a horrible panic attack and dissociative episode that landed me in the hospital. I had been off of all psychiatric medications for at least 7 years, but made the choice to resume an antidepressant. It did help the depression, but my anxiety was still fairly high, so with my treatment team, we star...

  Even when you close your eyes the chatter doesn’t stop tap, tap, tapping on your shoulders incessant chanting in your ears... When escape is not possible build a nest, and nourish fresh thoughts while the words find a home to make sense and rest  Create a refuge; a collage of fine twigs, downy feathers, and delicate baby’s breath to line your heart with tender care finally serenaded to sleep by a birdsong lullaby Angela Minard 2021©  Artwork by Lucy Campbell

Each fold and sharp crease between thumbnail and stark white paper hisses with outrage refined angles cutting remarks behind a simpering smile shooting baskets with the misshapen wads aim and miss each paper crane is formed from everything she was told she lacked her many failures bent into the correct aesthetic shape forced to acquiesce  throbbing fingers crimp and tuck seething warmth rising with each crumpled mistake these messy pages tell her battled tale... -the lie of perfection Angela Minard©  Artwork by  Duy Huynh

Something about the birds today pulled at my heart quietly tugging my awareness skyward  Everywhere I went I could feel the fluttering of wings on my skin like the sweet breath of angels  caressing the back of my weary neck Perhaps I had been looking down for too long the weight of darkness no longer screeching but continuing to listen intently as if silence was the monster hiding While doing yard work on this atypically warm autumn day  I at first mistook the starlings that caught my eye  for swirling leaves  until their musical trilling filled the air “Look up!” they seemed to be singing insistently  Pausing to rest tilting my gaze to the heavens my eyes widened as I watched in wonder the transformation  from onyx starlings to opalescent doves the honeyed sky dripping like slow rain weightless... cradled within the downy wings of protection -You are safe Angela Minard©  Artwork by Duy Huynh