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Our challenge was to scrapbook about a nickname. I think it was originally a joke about the fact that I could never manage to stay clean during summer trips to my aunt and uncle's farm, but upon reflection, I've found more to it, and that's what the journalling is about. I also tried to reflect the “spirit” of what the name means to me by experimenting artistically, including the swiss cheese-ish border, the stamping and buttons, and sanding the photo.Journalling (on the tag behind the photo of me): That's what my Auntie Trudy always called me: Grublet. I was the kid who climbed with abandon to the top of the hill on a summer afternoon at the farm, and then shouted, “Can someone please bring me my shoes?!” I was the kid whom Uncle John questioned with bewilderment about the weight of my suitcase, not realizing I'd stuffed it full of books. And I was the kid traipsing down the dirt trail towards our fort in “the bush”, imagining that with every step, I was “becoming” a fairy called Buttercup, who got her mail (written on rocks) delivered to a hollow tree, and had Mother Nature as a neighbour.I see that kid in this photo, taken when I was just 6 or 7 years old, and had yet to fall prey to the cruelties of classmates, when I was filled with confidence and vigour for life. I found her again from time to time, especially during those summer visits to the farm, but it makes me so sad when I see the sombre face in my class photo a year or so later. I grieve, because I think that Grade 3 year, when my troubles in school began, is where the roots of my depression lie. I no longer trust my instincts the way I once did – I second guess myself, and worry over my failures (perceived or real), and without medication, I drop into a spiral of self-condemnation.I want to be free again, to experiment and play and run toward opportunities with joyful abandon. I don't want to worry about task lists and clutter – at least not above all else. I want to get dirty again – to get my hands stained with paint and ink, to pursue a deeper, richer faith, to read good books and build good friendships, to write and write and write. And, most of all, I want to teach my daughter that it's okay to get dirty and wet and stinky and sticky, to believe in herself and and never, ever let anyone squash her spirit, or stop her in her pursuit of joy.
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