Dbee Robinson Artist - The Fat Struggling Menopausal Artist

  Where My Heart Used to Be They say grief comes in waves, but no one tells you the size, how a calm sea can suddenly rise and darken the skies. They say grief comes in waves, crashing into you like a tsunami tide, dragging away everything you knew, everything safe, everything that survived. One moment I'm standing, holding myself together somehow, the next I'm drowning in memories, asking, "What do I do now?" Each wave finds me unexpectedly— while making tea, while folding clothes, while passing a place we used to go. And yes, you can brush your teeth whilst sobbing. You can answer questions whilst breaking. You can smile at the world while your soul is quietly shaking. It's exhausting. Deep-down, bone-aching, spirit-breaking exhausting. The kind that sleep cannot cure, because sleep itself has become a thief; bringing me dreams of my David, then waking me back to grief. Every part of me is yearning for him. Every heartbeat calls his name. Every sunrise feels the...

For the past few months, I've been quietly working on what became known as ' Project Jacket.' Back in February, while rummaging around in the loft looking for the car log book (...don't ask!), we stumbled across some of David's old Navy kit. The log book remains at large and is probably enjoying a holiday somewhere behind the water tank. That discovery sparked an idea. I decided to repurpose one of David's Navy jackets into something special. A cushion? A teddy bear? A jacket for me? Even a lampshade? The possibilities were endless. After much deliberation, I settled on ... a waistcoat. What followed was months of designing, pinning, tacking, cutting, sewing, unpicking, muttering, cursing, re-sewing, more cursing, and occasionally questioning my life choices. There were times when I genuinely felt the jacket was fighting back. The sleeves came off first. I hoped that might be enough, but it just looked like a jacket that had suffered a tragic gardening accident....