33 trips around the sun

Monday before last, I turned 33.

It's been months since I've written anything but I've been feeling that old itch to put fingers to keys again. Turning 33 is as good an excuse to jump back in as any, right? I didn’t mean to let it go this long without posting something, but I can be a bit of a flake. Predictably, as soon as I try to commit to something like blogging, everything becomes overwhelmingly busy and I forget all about it. If this isn't the story of my life, I don't know what is. But the interesting thing is that for once, I’m choosing not to care.

33 feels like the year to stop giving a shit. Not about the important things, but rather all the minor little inconveniences that clog up my life and make me miserable for no reason. Things like the lines that have formed between my eyebrows that are etched there permanently now, and not just when I frown (which I do a lot) coupled with minor adult acne (a winning combination). Things like my breasts not being perky enough, or my double chin, or any of the other myriad flaws I could find with my body. Suddenly all that worrying about existing in my natural state feels like an enormous waste of time and I'm over it.

Double chin FTW

But it's more than just body stuff.

A few weeks ago I started feeling depressed again over my life path. I started worrying that I hadn't made the right choices and that I should just go back to school and get a degree and work a new job and make more money. I was cultivating at the farm when the idea to become a librarian popped into my head and for the rest of the day I couldn't shake it. I went home so excited to tell Wes all about my plans to go back to school and get a master's degree and start my real life in a public library surrounded by books all day. But then I actually looked up what it means to be a librarian and realized with a sinking feeling in my gut that it was not what I really want to do. I struggled with it for a few days until a realization came to me.

What I really want to do is make jewelry.

Or to clarify: What I really want to do is keep making jewelry. The thing I’m already doing. The thing I have been doing all along.

Around eight years ago a friend invited me to her birthday dinner at a local pizza place. I remember when I was getting ready that I felt slightly anxious because I didn't know anyone else at the party besides my friend and her boyfriend. When I got there, all the seats near my friend were taken so I settled near the end of the table next to two women. We got to talking, I asked them what they did for a living, and they told me they were both jewelers.

I've tried so many times to describe the exact bodily experience that followed their words, but the closest I've ever come is that a lightbulb suddenly came on in my head and that was that. I knew. I knew this was what I wanted to do with my life and that I had to make it happen. For years I had been on the hunt for the perfect statement ring and that night it finally occurred to me that I could just learn how to make the damn thing myself. Talking to those women, I began to realize for the first time that my life didn't have to be so linear. I didn't have to stay in my deli job forever, or settle on a major and return to school to get a degree in something I didn't really care about. To this day I believe that it was some kind of divine kismet that brought me to that party despite my not wanting to go because I didn’t know anyone. It's amazing how a simple attempt at small talk around a table crowded with pizza and pitchers of beer would so thoroughly alter the course of my life.

What happened next was I registered for an introduction to metalsmithing class, learned the basics, had a custom bench built, slowly gathered up the necessary tools and equipment I would need to make jewelry at home, and got to work. I taught myself how to set stones by watching YouTube videos and learned through much trial and error. It was very slow going at first, but I loved it. I set up shop after Wes and I moved to Michigan and started selling my first few pieces. Much has happened since those first couple of years, but the love of the craft has stayed with me and pushed me to keep going.

The first ring I ever made all by myself in 2015 I think? I was so proud.

Seven Necklace, 2022.

My favorite piece I’ve made to date.

So here's the thing about turning 33 and trying to not give a shit anymore. It finally, truly sunk in that until I have another lightbulb moment like the one at my friend's birthday party, I'm never going to want to do anything beyond what I'm doing. AND THAT'S OKAY. I feel like a broken record about this (because I am) because this is my shame spiral that never ends as I like to call it. But this time feels different. This time it feels like I need to start owning my choices and feeling proud of them for once. This time feels like it just may stick.

It occurs to me now that this thing I’m doing- making and selling art- despite not looking exactly the way I thought it would, is me living the dream.

It also occurs to me that I'm extraordinarily more privileged than I thought. So blindly privileged that instead of jumping for joy at the fact that I get to make art part time for a living, I spend hours and hours trying to figure out something else to do to make money. Like being able to make and sell art isn't a goddamn miracle. Don’t get me wrong- I’m not in a comfortable enough position with it to quit my job and survive on my craft alone, and for many of us this is the case. But I am in a position where I am able to work only four days a week and devote an extra day to my bench and that is an incredible thing. I am also blessed to have a partner who supported my decision to drop down at work to pursue this. Like I said: why am I not jumping for joy?

There are several accounts on Instagram that I admire above the rest because the artists behind them own their choices and honor the paths they're on. Recently one of them mentioned that she was trying to make extra money to get her car out of the shop and that in times like these she wonders if she should just go get a regular job. But then she remembers that it would never work and returns to her bench. It was such a simple, offhanded comment she made in her stories, yet I felt such a connection to her in that moment. I was like: yes, she gets it. She's accepted that she's not on the straight and narrow and isn't trying to fight it. Rather, she's trying to make her path work for her. This is precisely the energy and sentiment I'm taking with me in my 33rd spin around the sun.

Another account I love just shared a similar story to mine of working in restaurants for years before quitting to pursue her dream. She talked about what an incredible gift it is to be an artist and how necessary and vital artists are to the world. I felt the same way the other weekend when Wes and I popped into a shop claiming to sell antiques but that really sold cheap, mass produced knock-offs from overseas. We left the shop immediately and I turned to Wes and said, “This is exactly why I need to make art. Because everything about this place is offensive to me and I can’t live in a world where there are so many talented makers but this is what we settle for.”

I’m done settling. I’m done buying into the belief that if I choose a different life for myself that it somehow makes me less-than.

This year, I'm choosing myself. I'm choosing to stop comparing my life to others who have more money or are deemed more "successful" than I am, because all of that is bullshit. I'm choosing to stop hating my body for how it looks when it looks like a body. I'm choosing to recognize the incredible privilege it is to live this life, and start thanking the stars profusely for it. I’m choosing happiness.

33 is going to be a good year, I can feel it.