WWRD

Today at 2:24 PM

I will be really glad to see 2014 go. It's been a year that has brought about the most change in my life. It's had it's positive aspects and it's been absolutely brutal. I've suffered major loss while trying to achieve many things. The harsh parts are pretty obvious but I've decided not to lose my brother without finding a lesson in it for myself. I have to take this and make it push me harder instead of letting it push me down to the depths of anguish so deep I'll never recover. I have always been a look before you leap kind of girl. I've made snap decisions in the past but over minor things like hair dye and rearranging furniture. The big things are thought out to the point of exhaustion and I've made sure to suck every last ounce of joy out of it. I've held myself back for fear of making myself look like a fool for raising my hand to offer up my "talents". In my mind I assume it'll be met with, "Who does this broad think she is?". When we first started taking clients at school, it was obvious most of the girls were interested more in the makeup than facials. Facials are a necessary part of the curriculum so you tow the line. It's pretty rare that a client comes in for makeup but it's always an exciting buzz behind the scenes. Some are already well-established artists and don't need the hands-on experience because they're already solid in their skills. I'm not necessarily one of these people. I would stand back, start to step up to the plate, and then find myself backing away. There are several jobs I let slip through my fingers because I was afraid. Afraid of what? Failure; of being watched and scrutinized. All makeup clients are taken in the forefront of the salon where clients and other students are free to walk by and observe. Every time I'm working on someone (even in the back) and I can feel someone watching me over my shoulder, my pulse speeds up and my hands begin to shake. Not something you want happening during a liquid eyeliner application. No, no, no.

I worked on someone the night before Ryan passed. She was a friendly woman who gave me carte blanche to give her glamour. She was wearing black and going to a dimly lit place for a small cocktail affair. She was comfortable with a dark eye and had worn heavy makeup in the past. Asking is crucial because my version of slightly heavy may be considered Vegas showgirl to her. There was a little girl running around while her mom got her hair done. She made several trips by to observe my situation. I had freshly dyed pink hair and was elbow deep in a charcoal smoky eye.  The lady had a very deep-set eye and I was struggling to blend the line. I remember repeating in my head, "You did not come all the way from Flippin, Arkansas to flake out and mess up this eye. Get it together!" Then my classic go-to, "WWRD?" (what would Ryan do?). I continued to watch this little girl dance around in my peripherals but she certainly wasn't my focus. 

 

Knowing when to quite and stop retouching is another thing I need to work on. I'll pick until I've made it worse, not better. I'm usually one lifted lash away from a bathroom meltdown. If I see a flaw, it's all I'll see; not the good contour work, not the not the good blending. I'll just see those few flaws that make me feel like she will later wear a sign that reads, "Misty was my makeup artist, come closer and see where she failed". 

I finally wrapped up and the lady seemed to like her makeup. She tipped me very well and went on her way. I stayed behind to clean up my mess and the little girl was on her way out with her mom. Kids, who don't know not to point or talk about people in a low tone said, "Mom, I like her hair. I want to do makeup!" I smiled to myself knowing she thought I was cool. I know this because I was once like her. There was a girl back home that was in her early 20s when I was little. Her name was Kim Wilkins. She was everything I ever wanted to be; she was beautiful, blonde, tan, athletic, drove a mustang, and dated what, I thought, was the most handsome guy in town. I wanted to be her when I grew up. She was my first real girl crush. I would watch her in awe when she would play sports but I wonder now, did my idol ever have doubts? Did she ever question her abilities or go home and rip herself apart after I'd just sat in bleachers thinking she was the coolest thing since sliced bread? I would've never imagined her doing that because I thought she was the bees knees. If that little girl could've heard the thoughts in my head, tearing myself to shreds while doing that makeup, would she have still thought I was cool or just pathetic? I'm glad she couldn't hear my thoughts and I'm ashamed of myself for having them and I'm not going to do it anymore.

Lately I've become somewhat of a "yes woman". I don't avoid things anymore due to feeling unqualified, afraid, or out of place. It starts with "Misty you want to……?" and it's met with a "YES". Life is too short and I will not miss experiences or opportunities because of self-doubt. I could be gone tomorrow and there are things I will have missed out on over limits I've created in my own mind. These limits aren't real. I've imprisoned myself and shame on me. I'm going to dive in and live my life to the fullest. I will go hard professionally and I will slow down and savor those precious moments with my family just a little bit more. I will find the balance. I will be confident but hold on to my humble. I do not need reassurance to conquer and I refuse to be my own worst enemy. WWRD? Funny, when I've heard his voice a few times during my sleep, one of them sounded an awful lot like him telling me to get my ass out of bed and pull myself together after I'd spent a few days in bed. I know it sounds silly but sometimes when I'm working on something, I look down at my arm and think, "Guide my arm foxy". I feel like I metaphorically took off my chains. What's the worst that can happen? I've experienced the worst that can happen and you aren't given the option to throw in the towel. When people say, "I don't know how you are doing it." There isn't a choice. No one came and said would you like to take the next 5 years off? Life goes on and those around you aren't going to stop and wait for you. While I'm in bed, someone else took my gig. I have to regroup and rebuild and I have to make him proud. If that requires taking who he was and applying it to myself to feel like I'm continuing his legacy then that's what I'll do. Mom and I have several things in the works that we will be presented as they reach a certain point. Mom has changed but as odd as it sounds, in a good way. I'm proud of her. Neither one of us will ever be the same people we were. In a weird way, we've only improved. Our struggle reads in everything we do now; it is present in our faces, eyes, and decisions. Sometimes being slapped with a gut-wrenching loss evolves into the most freeing experience of your life. We're going on vacation soon because we need one and we aren't worried about money, work, or opinions. We'll make Ryan proud and I will never hold back ever again.