Tears of gratitude

I feel like crying. Not because I’m sad, but because I am feeling so moved by all the love I have in my life right now. I am not used to being so loved and respected. I have weeded out all the destructive people in my life. All the self proclaimed victims, emotional vampires, the energy thieves and the people who used me for their own selfish reasons. They are all gone. Now, I’m surrounding myself with real friends, genuine people who love to share themselves with me without any ulterior motives or manipulations. I feel very appreciated by the owner of the gallery where I’m doing my internship at the moment. It means a lot to me. My life is beautiful and I feel connected to every part of it – and very connected to myself. I don’t know why my life has been filled with so much pain and suffering, or why I’ve been treated like dirt by so many people – perhaps so that one day, I would be able to appreciate love and happiness this much. It’s a big contrast. The love I used to get was either harsh, or just indifferent and disconnected. The love I feel from people now is soft, warm and magnetic. I’ve been isolated for so long but now I’m starting to open up to people around me. I’ve been scared of being hurt again but I’ve learned that what I’ve experienced in my past is not normal or natural, therefore I must trust myself to know who’s trustworthy or not. And when I dare to trust someone who’s worthy of my trust and when I invest myself in them to place their trust in me as well, I finally find genuine beauty in other people. And great friendships. My days as an isolated person is over. My fear of being hurt is fading. And I owe it all to the wonderful people who have shown me the meaning of life through their persistent love and support; to just accept life for what it is and to be kind to everything and everyone in it – including myself.

“Painiverse” – My space suite [2013]

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Selfie from 2013 – in the process of making the tough decision to let my life fall apart in order to unchain myself from my past

Before I made the decision to break free from the chains of my past and to leave my whole life behind to be able to start over in a new place – I was dealing with the heavy weight of this decision in a suite of digital images of Space, void, loneliness, distance and isolation – but also with a slow movement through the darkness – orbiting a core – the gravity of freedom.

From my diary 2015:

The view from the top floor is nothing but a white sky. It’s too cloudy for me to be able to see beyond the whiteness. But there is a black stain somewhere in the white. I look closer. Now I can see that it is the smallest Universe. Space. Darker than anything I have ever seen. I realize that this little micro Universe is my pain. An old pain, it doesn’t exist anymore – and now it’s a memory in the shape of fear.

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I suddenly understand that inside this dark Universe is everything I have ever known about myself. About life. About love. Pleasure. Happiness. It is so tiny – but when I am floating around in it – it feels infinite. Once I am inside it, it is a closed world, it becomes my everything and I become the only detail inside it. I can’t see that the world outside is infinite, and that I’m just swallowed up by a ridiculous little stain – insignificant even though it’s packed with pain. Once I am consumed with this world, swallowed up by it and reconciled with the pain, I feel free.

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It’s just me and the dark void. Nothing else. I let go of any resistance. I let it take me deeper inside. I am so lost – but I feel part of something familiar and absolute. There is nothing but me and the familiarity of the darkness. Nothing can hurt me here. Because I am already floating through the pain or the memory of it.

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It is my ‘Painiverse’.

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Photos from a walk in the moonlight, a week after the break up 2014

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The time right after my decision to break free, my life started to fall apart in the most wonderful way,  and my digital art changed as well – the planets grew smaller and turned into important details in a new mythology that mirrored my new life. Here are works from 2014:

I’m staring right into the eyes of death. Or love. Whatever. That’s when I feel your bullets hit me right in the heart. Bullets of fire. I can’t breathe. I don’t want to.
I can feel how everything is destroyed. Or saved. Or whatever. Blackbirds, blood moons, lion breaths, rotten flower beds – like fireworks above it all. Exploding within and inside.

And I realize – I don’t know the difference between love and a beautiful murder. – MIA MAKILA, 2014

One step at a time

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My very first day at the gallery was amazing. I really need this right now. To be part of the world outside my own studio again. I’m sure this will inspire my work as well.

But I’m worried about my new collection of paintings. The painting process is so much slower than I first expected. It’s not that easy to build a whole new life for myself, to improve my self-esteem, overcome PTSD and trauma, while starting a new serious long distance relationship – and at the same creating a new body of work to restore my art career. I have to give it more time. I understand that. But with this speed of the painting process, I won’t be able to promote a new collection of artworks in at least 1-2 years. So far, I have three paintings and maybe 15 digital pieces to show. But my goal is to produce 10-15 paintings for the next show, that I’ll probably make in my hometown or in Stockholm.

When I’ll get more used to this new routine of working in the gallery, I’m sure I’ll find a way to balance the creativity with self-discipline and fun time. I know I have to work harder than this to make it, but I have to continue to take one step at a time. Otherwise, I’m just gonna end up being overwhelmed and exhausted. And I won’t allow that to happen again. This time, things will be done in the right way, in the right order. This time, I know so much more about myself and  about my creativity than I did before. I’ll make the past failures work as a guideline for my future success.

Falling into place

It’s a strange sensation to see my life fall into place instead of falling to pieces. I am tired of loss, tears and worries.I’m so done with all that. Last year, I made so much resistance to this new happiness and the love I’ve found. The good things scared me. It looked so unfamiliar and so fragile, like it would go away if I’d reach out and touch it. Now I know that happiness is not only momentarily, it can be lasting – if I love myself and accept whatever life brings to me, good or bad. I know I will survive anything because I’ve proved that to myself so many times already. To make resistance to happiness is to reject love – love for oneself, other people or for life itself. And it doesn’t make any sense to do that. It only happens if we believe that we don’t deserve it. But we all do. Both me and you. If we don’t deserve it, who does?

Recycling artworks

Sometimes I’ve done some recycling in my digital art. Here is a very early digital collage called “Witness” (2007) – that later turned into “Screamer” (2013) – one of my most popular digital pieces.

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But I also used the hay wagon in “Engla” from 2008:

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And in “Engla” I recycled my “Weird Baby” (2006):

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.. Which I also made a statue from the year after.

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A taste of Heaven and Hell

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Yesterday, the hormone storm returned. I’m always unprepared and terrified when it happens. – and I get buried underneath a heavy fog of fear and hopelessness. At times I feel like I don’t want to exist anymore – and that’s not me. But that’s how deeply affected we are by hormonal changes. Some women get anti depressants during these days each month, but I’m skeptical when it comes to medication. I guess it goes in line with the fact that I’m against drugs and alcohol.

But I have new ideas for writing projects and I am starting my new job at the gallery tomorrow. Good things are happening and I’m holding on to those when I feel a little lost. My life is finally starting to look like a real life and not just a pile of a broken pieces. I have love in my life, I am creating art again, I’m making new friends who means a lot to me – and I have a new job. My life looks so different now. I can’t believe how many years I spent in bed, or wearing a robe just because I wasn’t doing anything. My life had lost its purpose and I got lost in the comfort of the everyday life routines. That’s why I can never get too comfortable in my life. I am highly allergic to it. But of course, I don’t want my life to be uncomfortable either – I’ve been living in the sufferings of traumas for almost 20 years and it’s just a living hell. There has to be a balance between the comfortable and the uncomfortable. To not be suffering but not falling asleep and get lost in the security of life.

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Even if I still have days with anxiety and panic attacks, it’s nothing compared to how it used to be. Now, the anxiety only last a day or two. I feel very grateful. And it’s an evidence that all my hard work to overcome the PTSD symptoms have paid off. I am proud of the journey I’ve made. Now, it’s time to continue the journey – and I know it will take me to wonderful places. I’ve been to Hell, perhaps I’ll get a taste of Heaven too. Who knows?

The wildflower

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Spring turned into summer in only a week. My body is always sensitive to the transitions of the seasons and especially when the changes are quick and extreme. I feel wild. Like a spring flower that’s caught on fire in the summer heat. Every part of me is alive. Every cell. Every hair. Every thought. Perhaps we all carry a piece of summer in our hearts because it’s so easy to connect with the energy of the season.

I will dedicate all day tomorrow to work on my painting “The Core”. It’s a large scale canvas and at times painting on it feels like taming a beast.  But I’m almost done. I hope I can transfer this glowing energy into the painting. It is about my core and I have to load it with my light and energy.  Because the core is everything. Everything. That’s where all our good things are born. Our strength. Ability to love and to be loved. Happiness. Peace. Power. The soul. The “realness” of our existence. The light within. And the sexual energy. Everything we need to protect.  All those things that makes us  feel vulnerable and naked – and at the same time divine and alive.

Not dark yet

It’s 10 pm and it’s not dark yet. The cemetery looks like a murky landscape of mountains and trees against the sunset. It’s been a strange week and I’m glad it’s about to end. Next week will be great, I can feel it.

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Meditation

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It’s a day of rest. I’m trying to gather new energy because I think I’ve used it all up on my creativity lately. The pollen season is also reaching its climax right now and it makes me feel drained and drowsy. Some allergic Swedes are even fleeing the country to “survive” the predicament. I will continue painting as soon as my health improves. The creative process is taking much longer than I first expected, I’m sort of rusty as a painter but I’m also much more thorough and precise now. Working with digital art has definitely turned me into a perfectionist. I used to be spontaneous and splash paint on the canvas. Now, I can work on details for hours and everything is very controlled and planned. I think it’s probably a combination of being more present since I’ve overcome the disassociating state of PTSD and having my shit together for the first time in my life. That’s why it’s frustrating to be this damn tired – I have so much I want to do! But right now I need to be focused on my breathing and letting go of any negative energy or any doubts. I find my meditation in laughing, at the moment to the Swedish TV and podcast duo Filip and Fredrik.

Under huden

Innanför min
understa hud
glider tungan
genom mina
täta våtmarker
vilda pärlor
av statiskt regn
vrider tiden
läcker saft
din rörelse
skiftar tyngd
under mitt
tunnaste lager
tålamod
river havet
med en storm
blöder sakta
sitt salta skum
där du retar
varje färg
jag känner till

– Mia Makila – 16

Thoughts from a dark place filled with light

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It’s a night of so many emotions. I feel wide open. Like I can absorb the night and turn it into words. The midnight hour is hiding both my abstractions and my secrets. Like shadows drowning in its own darkness. My body yearning to be touched. A soft flickering light. Or is it my heart? Nights are a destination. A cemetery for memories. A garden of dreams. I bury myself in its stillness. I feel safe here.

It’s been a very intense week. So much is happening at the same time. Even if it’s all good, I feel like I am falling off the edge of my own little world at times. Which is healthy. Sometimes you need the sensation of falling to be able to travel to a new place. Those places you can’t get to in any other way. Like making the impossible possible by inventing a new gravity and laws of physics just by taking chances. Risks. To allow life to expose itself and not just be a comfortable backdrop to your own drama. If I have been in a transitional period recently, I’m now in the period of learning. Learning how to trust. Love. Be. Think. Learning how to act in a  social context. Learning how to balance the good with the bad. How to get use to kindness. How to not confuse my own heart. Learning the anatomy of sensuality. Seduction. Eroticism. Learning how to spot the difference between fear and instincts. Between lust and attraction. And learning how to distinguish between the pointless and the significant.

It’s a process of trial and error. I stumble and fall. Here’s the importance of falling again. I won’t ever learn anything if I’m not allowed to fall once in a while. The most important thing is that I’ll get back up again. That’s how babies learn how to walk. That’s also how you overcome a trauma. It’s the basic element of any evolution or change. I just need to remind myself of that a little more often.

The night is shifting depth in the dark tones. I’m still wide open. I’ll let it blindfold me. Slowly .

A day in Stockholm

I’ve spent a wonderful day with my friend Jenny in Stockholm today – and I got to see my digital baby “Strings Attached” being born at the printer’s office (Proimages) – I really needed this injection of inspiration!

The Alice syndrome

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Ok, so I lied in one of the posts yesterday. I said “it’s not that I am full of doubts” but I guess that’s not completely true. I’ve been struggling with self doubt this week. I am not interested in coming off as a successful person on my blog. Someone who is always in control of her own destiny or knows exactly what she’s doing. I want to be real. Sincere. Honest. About what it’s like to be a person who’s overcome really shitty situations and who’s trying really hard to find a place in the world – a place of happiness and peace. A place where I can be creative and flourish as an artist and as a writer.

Living inside a trauma was hell, surviving the trauma was very hard, living without it is confusing. But I am doing my best, believe me. This is the true story about how I am working towards success and happiness. Some days I do the Alice-shrinking-thing and I feel small and anxious. Other days I feel very strong and focused. It’s all part of the same journey I am making to reach my goals and dreams – and I have accepted its ups and downs.

Unfortunately, it’s very easy for me to get sucked into Alice’s rabbit hole and end up feeling really small. But it’s never in any wonderland – instead it’s always in the ‘normality’ of reality. Normality scares me. It’s like a maze full of outside pressure, expectations and social rules which I don’t understand. I just want to be me in the world outside my own inner wonderland. But I have never been able to do that without getting lost somehow. I hope that one day I’ll learn how to find my way through the maze.

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How many worlds do I keep hidden inside?

These maps are very personal. The maps of “Nyland” [Newland] – a made up island I created during my last year of the abusive marriage. It was a way to disassociate myself from my reality – a place to escape to when I couldn’t stand my own life or the helplessness I felt at the time. I tried to create a place of peace and beauty. And a place that I could control and create in any way I wanted. There, I felt powerful and significant. I made up stories about the history of the cities. I created a climate, I created the nature and its assets on the island. I shaped the lakes and smaller islands connected to the big island – like they served as a safe haven in an already safe place. Places where no one could ever get to me and hurt me. I created a mythology around Nyland – the flag, the history of the nation and the symbols associated with it.

One year into creating Nyland, I finally found the strength to leave my abuser and the project disappeared into the mess of the divorce. And then I just forgot about it.

Now, I am thinking about the project as an evidence that I have so many worlds inside me. Places to visit, stories to tell. Characters to explore. This, in combination with my passion for drowning in the complex worlds of TV series, makes me wonder if I would be able to create a made up Universe to share with other people – like J.K. Rowling or Tolkien but with my own mythology. What is hiding deep inside me? I can sense something… somewhere… but I guess only time will tell exactly what is to be found in my inner treasure chest of imagination and creativity.

Comfort vs Growth

I can’t seem to shake off the feeling of not having any solid ground to stand on right now. The only solid thing at the moment – is me. Which is ironic because it used to be the exact opposite – I used to live in a comfort zone where I was full of chaos and confusion. It’s comforting in a way, to know that just because my reality is shifting in its form and size, I stay intact.

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It’s not that I’m full of doubts, it’s more that I’m about work really hard to reach my dreams and ambitions – and I want to understand what I’m getting myself into, what I’m actually about to achieve. I’m asking “can I really do this?”, not as a doubt but more like forming an agreement with myself. Could I write the books I want to write? Could I ever leave Sweden and move to America? Could I be successful and make a lot of money? What do I have to sacrifice in order to be able to achieve my goals? What I’m a willing to let go of to get further ahead? What is sacred and what is unimportant when I start to think about it?  What is standing in between me  and my goals? Time? Money? Self esteem? Insecurities?

The key to success and achieving goals is to always remember that every decision to make means choosing between comfort and growth. Most people are not willing to sacrifice the comfort and security of a “normal “life to go for their wildest dreams and aspirations. Daring greatly and taking risks means sacrificing certainties and the stillness of an untouched reality. My reality will always be flexible for new dimensions and weight. At times it will be heavy in order to shift, like it’s doing right now. Other times I’ll ride it like a wave to get to a new dimension within it. An artist has to be open-minded to these things. Things most people miss out on. But that’s just the thing – I have to acknowledge and appreciate  all that instead of ignoring it. This is the purpose of my existence. It scares the hell out of me at times – to know that loss and sacrifices are part of the deal I have with my dreams.

I will always choose growth instead of comfort, because the time I made the opposite decision – the comfort almost killed me. I’m made for bigger things than to live a normal life. And I haven’t even really started yet. But I’m on my way. I just have to understand where exactly I’m going from here.

Welcome, reality

Ok, so here it comes – the hangover to all the good changes that are in motion right now. I’m freaking out a little. My world has been so small for such a long period of time –  it’s just been me and my own inner Universe – and now it’s expanding, so fast and with so much intensity and I feel like it’s being invaded by reality. It’s healthy but it makes me feel vulnerable and anxious. I’ve been spoiled with clean hours – hours free from any expectations or pressure from the outside. Those hours used to pass with a slow movement, almost like they never existed inside my apartment, like it was only an illusion just to keep up with the world outside it. Now they feel manipulated and distorted. Cut in half. Speeded up. Attacked. I need to get used to this. It’s just a matter of adjustment. But it still feels strange. I feel a little stressed by it. I haven’t had the time to create anything this week. Hopefully I will find some time tomorrow.

Life has changed its rhythm and I have to accept it. I will even try to embrace it.

10 minutes

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Life is really kind to me right now.  Doors are beginning to open up for me and I am finding new opportunities, possibilities and a chance to grow all the time. It looks like I’m getting an internship at a local gallery – what a dream! I know this opportunity will give me a lot of new knowledge and experience and it’s just the perfect workplace for me at this point. I feel really connected to the concept of the gallery and its purpose. I’m so excited!

And my painting “The Core” will be finished soon. I can’t wait to share it with you. I am already planning my next painting. And the next. And the next…

In 10 minutes, Johnny will call me from California. I wish my phone could swallow me whole and transport me and my body all the way to the States, because I miss him so much. I want to smell his face. Be forehead to forehead and feel our thoughts blending in an invisible stream of sensual energy and love. Some days are cruel. The days when the missing turns into a disease. Other days, like today, I just feel so happy to know that there is a home for me out there. I used to feel homeless for such a long time. Possibly all my life. Even though I’ve always had a home, an actual apartment or a house and people around me who claim they love me. But I’ve been so lonely. There is no other emotional torture worse than feeling lonely in a relationship. To have someone but not having any access to them. To be spooned at night, but feeling like you are replaceable. To share a romantic dinner with someone who never looks into your eyes. To feel like a guest in your own house. To long for silence and solitude instead of togetherness and company. So I am very grateful for what I share with Johnny, even if he’s half a world away. I’d rather share a geographical distance with someone than an emotional one.

5 minutes now…

Hello spring!

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The view from my window right now; the cemetery and the Valborg celebration in the park behind it, with a bonfire (to the left of the chapel) and fireworks

I am out of sync with this day, like I never really woke up at all today. It’s the evening of Valborg – the last day of April and as a European tradition, it’s time to officially welcome spring. I can hear a choir singing traditional Swedish songs of spring and hope, all the way from the park behind the cemetery outside my window. I’m still very allergic but I welcome spring, in many ways this year. I am anticipating so many wonderful things to come. A new collection of artworks. Art shows. Writing projects. A new job. Johnny coming back to Sweden to visit me again. More happiness. More creativity. More of everything that is good. But first, I have to survive the pollen season before I can celebrate all the good things to come without any distractions.

Now, I can hear a brass orchestra making a salute. I guess it’s officially spring now. Time for growth. Optimism. Hope. Colors. Creative explosions. More light. Butterflies. Love. I told you – everything good is just around the corner.

Painting childhood memories

Before I even got to celebrate my very first birthday, I had developed a serious case of atopic eczema and a lot of different allergies that would make my skin break out in violent rashes that would itch and make me scratch myself until I was without any skin on my hands, and I had to wear bandages. My parents treated it with alcohol and strong cortisone ointment, twice a day, every day for years and years. I was always visiting hospitals and doctors, one doctor even used me as a research object because of my serious illness. 


This was a very painful experience, both for me and my parents who would hear me scream and cry because of the itching, the bleeding sores and wounds, and the excruciatingly painful alcohol treatments. I couldn’t stop myself from itching and my fingers, hands, became my worst enemies. The same hands that loved to create and make beautiful art. The same hands that were my best friends. My body had urges and desires to hurt myself, to cause myself pain and torments, and I was helpless and could not resist these urges. 

And this is only the physical experience of my childhood physical trauma. Of course I felt awkward about the red spots and rashes, the constant itching, all the allergies and the way it became a social handicap for me. 

Some kids where disgusted with me because I was always scratching myself and my body was full of bleeding wounds, scabs, with pus and my eyes were puffy and swollen because of all the allergies. Most of my classmates accepted me, but some kids were bullying me and teasing me because of my physical appearance.


I remember one kid told me he was not allowed to touch me because his mother had told him I might be contagious. That one REALLY hurt. And it was completely untrue. Even so, I felt so disgusted by my own body – and even though I was a victim of this disease, I felt like a perpetrator – to myself and others, by just being me. 

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In first grade, when I was 7 years old, the entire class got a children’s version of The Bible. And our teacher was reading it out loud, I guess it was the basic ‘stories’ from the Bible and it took us some months to study it while she was reading the biblical stories. After she finished reading from it and we had all the basic biblical dramas alive in our heads, she asked us to paint something from it, that had made a big impression on us. Most kids made drawings of angels, the crucifixion or the virgin Mary.

But I made a drawing of a poor leper (with sores all over his body) in a monk’s robe, visiting Christ.

According to the Gospels, when Jesus came down from the mountainside, large crowds followed him. A very sick leper came and knelt before him and said, “Lord, if you are willing, you can make me clean.”

 

Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man. “I am willing,” he said. “Be clean!” Immediately he was cured of his leprosy. I am sure I felt a connection to this poor, sick man who just wanted to feel clean and accepted for his physical existence.