You Want Meaning.

You want to get your act together.

You’re grateful for all you have, but you still want… more.

And you know in your gut that it’s tied to your time. It’s tied to your ideas. Your creativity.  Your take on life and putting your own atypical spin on how things are typically done.

Me too.

That’s what  Atticlands is all about.  It’s a bit of a phoenix, really, rising up from the calamity of never quite fitting in.

And no one really gets it.

Not the world. Not the people who are “supposed” to – like your husband or  your family. Your friends.

Hell, sometimes you don’t even fully get it.

Where you got this weird double sense of gross entitlement coupled with crippling starvation.

I mean, the guilt is crushing, right?  How lucky you are?  You had a good childhood.  Loving parents. You have a wonderful husband who loves you, mostly gets you.  Who let you leave your job you weren’t super into anyway to stay home with the kids while he went to work every day.

He told you that even after the kids are in school full time, you needed to take some time to explore what you want to do so that you can really get a foothold into what your second act is going to be.

But we all know that’s date talk. Three beers in.

And what the hell did I expect? I’m not exactly trophy wife material. A head full of gray hair, a face that’s only known makeup a few dozen days in its life, a solid for…uh, thirty pounds overweight, and someone who really doesn’t get a whole hell of a lot done.  Like out in the world. And doesn’t earn any money.  And who’s full of ideas and visualization and planning and who can design and execute amazing projects… perfect projects… but can’t seem to figure out anything sustainable… like how to compartmentalize enough to get one of the gazillion Never Businesses off the page and into the world.

I gotta figure out how to get paid for my ideas.

Because money makes it real, right?  It validates it. It’s the only thing that’s going to allow you to keep going with it and not have your husband build up resentment about your charmed life where you don’t do anything all day.

I get it if you found your way here because you need creativity and self-discovery to provide a break. I have brilliant and dear friends like that.  They’re so productive and successful (and creative and innovative, by the way) in their work that pretty much the last thing they would want is to taint their rare time for imagining, which is such acutely deserved freedom, with structuring it into a side hustle.

That’s just not where I am. I’ve been a stay-at-home-mom for nine years.  I was a high school English teacher before that. And that was my life’s high-paying job. Because I thought I would be a filmmaker or a writer or a photographer or a creative in an ad agency. Or a famous actor. Or something else that on the surface seems so  vain and impractical but really is all about wanting to just process my vision of the truth of life and interpret it to the world. The only thing I love to do and can’t live without.

It’s been enough for me to keep it in the attic.  But after so long in the dark, it’s starting to feel like I’m ashamed of it. It’s starting to feel like it would burn up in snow-blinded overexposure if it came into the light. It’s starting to feel like I’ve wasted my life. Like I haven’t done what I came here to do.

So how do I get there?

And I’ve never had the courage to do it. I’ve danced with it..or next to it without really making eye contact..

You’re not big on small talk.

I’m not either.

You will not catch me at any kind of networking event and you probably won’t find me at a party unless I have to be there because I promised someone I would. And you better believe I popped a GABA before I got there.

Or I suppose you could find me there.

I’d be really easy to spot. I’d take a really long time getting my drink hoping I chewed up an hour but really that just takes like 30 seconds if you really drag it out. Then I’d stand there smiling to look friendly, but let’s be honest: It’s just creepy to stand there smiling. Or maybe not creepy. Just like I’m on the wait staff  ready to pounce on someone’s empty plate to take it to the trash for them.

I’m an INFJ. Every single time I’ve taken the Myers-Briggs test for years and years that’s what I come out to be.  And I love personality tests and any kind of explanation, wisdom, pattern, interpretation. I’m also a very proud Capricorn with very deep water influences. Church just doesn’t stick anymore, but I pray all the time.

Intimacy. Depth. An extremely enthusiastic love of Excellence.

USP: My secret sauce or my hybridity is this:

Where Emotional Intelligence Meets the Relentless Pursuit of Excellence (Not so much when it comes to doing dishes.  More like in terms of meaningful purpose and self-expression.)

Creativity

Communication/Teacher Skills

Obsessive Perfectionism on Projects

It is really hard for me to expose a s

Why This?

Why the Atticlands blog?

I have a loooong history with Never-Businesses.

It’s hard to come out of the shadows.

It is a tender thing

• To have a mid-life crisis.
• To call yourself an artist for the first time.

I’m a warrior for meaningful work.