Within the Adventure, there is hope.

Exiting the Nameless Wood

So, do y’all remember when I said I could see sunlight at the edge of the Nameless Wood? I found the exit, which led me to a whole new adventure full of hope. This adventure isn’t a straight path, as few paths truly are; this one has branched and crossed and branched again. One path unexpectedly led me into an Art Teacher position for K-12 every Friday. Another has started winding back toward my canopy, face paints, crowds, and the whimsical world I build within.

While neither path looks like what I was doing before, both have required a lot of adaptation. Somewhere along the way, I realized that perhaps my goal wasn't to find my way back but to find where I have yet to travel. For the first time in a very long time, that thought brings excitement.

I am an Art Teacher Now

In my last post, I had mentioned that a possible teaching opportunity had appeared on the horizon. That possibility became my reality! My first day teaching was August 14, and I now teach every Friday.

My first day I had the K-1 and 2-3 groups, and MAN was that an eye-opener! I had walked into that art room with a lesson plan, supplies in hand, preparations, backup plans, and what I thought was a reasonable understanding of how the day might go. I was oh so very unprepared. Youngins that age contain a frankly unreasonable amount of energy first thing in the morning, or afternoon... I left that first day completely exhausted, but in a super satisfying way instead of the “no reason exhausted” I had grown accustomed to with my health. The kind of exhaustion that your body just nopes out of the rest of the day, while the other part of you is like, “yea that was exhausting but SO MUCH FUN”.

None of that exhaustion, though, compares to the amount of full my heart felt at the end of each class, as every single student thanked me. Not only did they thank me, but they said how excited they were for this year’s classes. I cried.There was something about seeing their excitement that got me. I had walked into the day unsure of myself in major ways, trying something entirely new, and those kids were already looking forward to doing it again.

Since then, I have learned that teaching art is roughly 30% knowing art, and 70% being adaptable in your expectations. Flexibility in the lesson, time, how I explain, and how long tasks take.

That adaptation wasn’t just for the youngins, though. I am learning how I teach. I am exploring what I need to prepare ahead of time, where I need room to improvise, what wears me out, what energizes me, and how to create lessons that work for the students in front of me instead of an imagined attentive classroom on paper.

The opportunity itself came into my life almost entirely through serendipitous timing. It was not something I had been pursuing or even on my radar. It was mentioned to me, and I jumped at the opportunity.

Now, a month in, I am realizing just how perfectly serendipitous this really was. Teaching has given me a feeling I have struggled with for years, a sense that I am still capable of reinventing myself. Not in the sense of throwing everything away and starting new. It is more like discovering my shape is not, and never was, fixed. There are still skills I can learn, roles to try, and parts of myself I have yet to meet. I am capable of expansion.

A newfound sense of hope in my own growth and capabilities that I didn't know I had, but was in desperate need of. While I have been discovering this newfound piece of myself, I have also rediscovered an old covered path and started to clear it.

Three Dates on the Map

I officially have three full vending events on my calendar. Being able to share that feels so amazing. It’s something I was legitimately unsure I would ever be able to say again.

September 27, I will be at FYT presents Brews and Browse benefiting Carolina Cares.

October 10, I will be at the 19th Annual NC Local Music Benefit for InterAct.

And on October 18, I will be at the PBO Pride 2026: Pride Festival & Parade.

Three dates, three crowds, three opportunities to drag my curious amount of equipment out into the world again and share my whimsy. I am beyond ecstatic. I have majorly missed this part of myself- the crowds, performing my art, conversations, noise, people watching, seeing the smile after some fresh paint or ink is slung; it’s just all amazing experiences that I had given up on feeling again. It’s amazing to know that it’s coming up.

There is also another aspect to this- financial hope. Things have been exceedingly tight, scarily so sometimes. But working reliably every Friday has given me a small amount of dependable income we did not have before. That has changed what we believed was possible. Most importantly, it means I can now promise an event assistant a flat fee in addition to commission and know I have a reliable source of income behind that promise.

I have known for a very long time that having help at events is a need, not a privilege.

Knowing something is necessary and actually being able to afford it are two very different things. Now I finally have a little more room to build support into how I function at events. This matters because there is another reality I have had to accept; though simple, it is difficult. That I cannot work events solo anymore. At first, this felt incredibly shameful, still unpacking why. However, at this point I feel okay with it. Finding reliable folx to assist and work with me- now that part is harder. Needing another adult there does not mean I cannot do events. It just means my events look different now.

Sharing my New Looking-Glass World

Since my events have to be treated differently than before, I have been thinking a lot about what in my setup is actually needed to make it truly sustainable. Thankfully, many of the accommodations I came across were already playing a small part in the way I built my booth over the years. My full outdoor setup is designed with comfort and accommodations in mind, both mine and other folx.

My tent generally has power, which I tote with me. With it, I run a ceiling fan, box fan, and 2 personal fans. I also keep extra seating, even a couch! Blankets and pillows for coziness (and stimming; events can also majorly trigger social anxiety; blankets are great for petting). I usually have power available for customers as well, sometimes a spare charger even. And for atmosphere, I have rope lights and generally have some big band jazz playing somewhere.

Some of these things began because I wanted or needed them, while others were added because I noticed the people around me needed them too. Now I am looking at the whole enterprise through an even clearer lens: they were accommodations the whole time. They help make it possible for me to continue doing something I genuinely love while also making my booth a more comfortable place for the people who visit me.

Someone can sit down in from the heat with a fan, charge their device (I have saved many a kid’s tablet), or simply have a few quieter moments beneath the canopy while the outside hustles and moves. Honestly, that feels completely in line with what I have always wanted Alphanie Artistry to be.

I have always wanted my booth to feel like its own little looking glass world tucked inside the event. Not just a canopy to walk under, get painted, pay, and leave. I want there to be a sense of fanciful whimsy to the entire experience, as though for a few minutes you have stepped slightly sideways from this realm. It could be the music, the comfies, or the sitting down as yourself, and standing up as an art piece. Whatever the combination, I want people to walk away feeling like they encountered something a little unusual, a little otherworldly, and fully authentic.

That authentic otherworldly feeling is what I have missed so much. It isn’t just painting faces or slinging ink. It really is experiencing the whimsy through the eyes of my clients, watching the crowds, performing my art, speaking to others, making someone feel seen while I feel seen. There is a serious magic about that sort of exchange, and I am so incredibly ready to experience it again.

The Nameless Wood led me to Forever Branching Paths.

I think that is what this past square has become for me. Not finding my way back to some old version of myself, but realizing there has never been, nor will there ever be, a singular path forward. There are forever branching paths, crossing and splitting, looping back in ways I could never have imagined.

When Alice and the fawn make their way out of the Nameless Wood, they remember themselves again. Alice may not know exactly where she is going, or what lies ahead, but in that moment none of that matters. Alice recognizes she is Alice. I think I understand that a little differently than before.

A few months back, I was just trying to survive and navigate the Wood. Somewhere along the way, I lost a lot of certainty about what my capabilities had become, what my working life could look like, and where I could possibly fit within.

September finds me standing outside the Wood with new paths stretching like a chessboard in front of me, with a plethora of moves at play. I am teaching Fridays, prepping for vending again, learning how to work WITH my needs instead of against them, and discovering new bits of myself while rediscovering my older pieces.

I may not know where exactly any of these paths ahead lead. However, I do know two things for sure. The paths are forward. And my name is Alphanie. Instead of needing one clear road, I am beginning to feel the excitement of having many possible directions to explore.

The Nameless Wood led me to forever branching paths.

Adventuring those paths is revealing hope.