Candy Fantastic
VISUAL TRANSPORTATION SPECIALIST
AND
WORDSMITHERY MAGICIAN
Who Am I?
I'm 45 years in the making. I grew up for the most part in Boulder, Colorado. While not exactly a native, we (my mom and sister included here) moved to Colorado when I was about 3 years old. Life for us was a struggle. Even more so when my mother's new beau turned out to have his own demons. I grew up in a chaotic, abusive household. Sometimes we didn't have much to eat. We learned how to adapt and keep going despite the bs my step dad put us through. When I was 7, the real nightmare began and started a long road of withdrawal and isolation through a situation I didn't know how to escape.
I found my freedoms through various ways that couldnt' be stolen from me, nor could I be punished for. I learned how to escape reality and create magnificent worlds in my head. I rode my bicycle all over Boulder and felt a rush of freedom like nothing else. I swam and hung out with friends as often as possible building the momentum for a mind ripe for the fantastical.
In 1989, tragedy struck in a way that would affect me profoundly. My 6th grade class was in a horrific bus accident. We lost the brakes to our bus as we came down the mountain and went over the edge. 38 students and a bus driver tumbled head over heel in a tin can stopping short of the St Vrain River just outside of Lyons in Boulder County. We lost one classmate that day. One more was seriously injured and the rest were broken bones, bumps, and bruises. This accident would affect me in a way I was unprepared for 30 years later.
A year after the bus accident, I was plucked out of my personal hell and we--the family, including my mom, sister, and new step-dad ( a man I would come to call my father)--moved to Arvada, Colorado where I made new friends and had new adventures. I did ok considering all the doors in my mind's castle that were being locked shut. I rebelled in the ways teenagers do. I smoked, drank, snuck out of the house, etc. My life drastically changed again at the age of 16 when I found out I was pregnant.
I had my oldest kiddo when I was a senior in high school and thanks to my parent's help managed to graduate with a 4.0 while being a teen mom. I had my second kiddo a few years later with hubby #1. My kiddos kept me going over the years. I did my best to parent (many a mistake were made--ask my youngest about the chicken soup incident)--I wrote poetry, doodled, painted, and worked.
I divorced my first husband and rekindled the love between me and my high school sweetheart. We married and were together for five years before things fell apart. We ended up divorcing. I did what I've always done and went to the next relationship-in-waiting. We were engaged for a while, but he had a drinking problem and he became abusive. I broke off the engagement and moved on. In 2011, I came in contact with my childhood abuser and in true-groomed fashion, engaged in a relationship with him. Needless to say, it did not work out. Bring on divorce #3. I spent the next few years trying to figure out how it was that I could even consider engaging with my chilhood abuser, let alone marry him.
Several years later, I met hubby #4 and was sure it was gonna work out this time. He was sweet, supportive, and loving. We met in October and were Married in December of 2017. Another whirlwind decision in a slew of them I've made in my life. In 2018 I was diagnosed with cancer. It was one of the worst years of my life. I became bitter, angry, and resentful at a world that could throw so much at me as a child, then as a teen, and now the big C. I had surgery to have the offending bits removed (I elected not to go through chemo and radiation). I healed and started 2019 feeling a bit worn down, but better.
Hubby #4 and I were doing pretty good and decided that a change of scenery would be good. We decided to move to Michigan where he could be close to his teen son. I had finally moved away from everything awful...
and familiar and wonderful.
In late December of 2019 that hallway of locked doors where I hid all my feelings and darkness broke open. All my neatly boxed traumas spilled out into my life and I tried to end mine. A 5 day stay in a hospital, amazing friends, DBT therapy, some rewiring in my brain, and sheer will kept me going through the next few years of isolation.
In 2020 covid had just started spreading world-wide and I found myself yearning for community and my Colorado friends. I decided in late 2022 that I needed to go back home. The hubby and I had grown apart and I could feel myself becoming someone different, so we parted ways and I moved to Colorado to be with my peoples again. Thanks to a wonderful friend, I was able to afford living in Colorado again.
While in the mountains, I found myself alone and relying entirely too much on substances to keep me going. I was lonely and looking in all the wrong places for a solution.
The 12-step programs would be a huge help in my recovery and discovery of who I was and who I wanted to be. I began therapy again, this time to delve into those locked rooms I'd been ignoring all these years. I'd done art therapy in the past and have written my heart out, but there was one door that I kept locked all the time and it was time to take the door of the hinges. I was done hiding behind substances, people, and busy work.
My inner child needed tending to.
As of May, 2024 I'm nearly two years sober and working on repairing my relationship with myself. I'm cleaning up the detritus, sweeping out the cobwebs, and opening the windows. In airing the castle of my mind, I'm rediscovering myself as an artist and writer. I'm fostering the talent and determination that have gotten me this far and focusing them on sharing my world with you. I'm propelling myself into a future that always seemed just out of reach. My dreams are coming to fruition and I see my future unfolding before me. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for the amazing people I surround myself with.
