Ballooning in a world beyond Vroom Vroom Balloon
How I slowly but enough self belief to share my talents with the south shore, MA area.
When I find myself in the comparison trap, my imposter syndrome flaring, the fire stoked by watching other people who were inspired by Vroom Vroom Balloon to create their own companies are now making major moves, I know their success doesn’t mean anything in regard to mine, but it still hurts. I’m pulled into thinking of the past four and a half years as a waste of time. This is completely false information, due to the massive amounts of healing and growth I’ve done in the same time.
I must remind myself, those people did not have a mother like mine. They were not trapped in an abusive relationship with their business parent. They were not raised with a hammer of “you are nothing without me” coming from the person who was supposed to love them most- love them unconditionally. The truth is, while my experience is not unique among women, it is unique among the vernacular of female balloon entrepreneurs. The Evil Sunseter fucked me up. She made sure I never grew a sense of self.
I am a child of an emotionally immature parent: The Evil Sunster. That’s what my dad and his friends would call her when I was a child (I knew nothing of the nickname before this instance, only the way he and his comrades would refer to her). He shared this a few weeks back, when I was telling him about a crazy podcast I’m listening to called “How To Destroy Everything,” because the dad is so similar to my mom. When my dad told me about The Evil Sunster, I almost passed out dead of hilarity, and had to immediately text my sister the tidbit. A perfect name for her. The woman is truly evil. Or, not truly evil. Evil enough. Evil enough to lose two of her three children. Evil enough to crush the self confidence of her off spring, so she can rebuild them (what a savior!) into an extension of herself. That’s the narcissism. Evil enough to teach her children that love is conditional and it can be taken away at any moment. That’s the borderline personality disorder. Evil enough to tell everyone her children had mental illnesses, such as autism, even though the top medical professionals in that field evaluated and deemed the child to not have autism. Evil enough to say they hasn’t seen a child act so fearful in the presence of their parent; evil enough to yell at her child she’s “not acting right,” in frotnt of the doctors. That’s the Factitious Disorder Imposed on Another, formally known as Munchausen syndrome by proxy. Evil enough to put herself above all else, even the three innocent humans she brought into the world.
The odds were not stacked in our favor. The will to stay alive was motivated solely by the two younger sisters. Unfortunately, there is one alone with the Evil Sunster. I miss her everyday and I’m here when she’s ready to escape.
I write this newsletter for her. It’s something my mom cannot control. I can share that life is so much better on the other side. I can give proof. I can tell her I love her - I LOVE YOU, TOOT. I pushed myself to foster friendships in a queer community, because of her. I am creating a life to inspire her and to accept her. I’m slowly making space in my home for her. Her picture is on my wall. What kind of mother isolates one child from her siblings? The Evil Sunster. I send my love and energy to my sister, so she can get through whatever hell she’s living inside those isolated walls. We are great at pretending to be okay. We can project the life of perfection The Evil Sister demands. But life inside the head of an emotionally abused child? It’s all wrong. It’s a land of delusion constructed by the borderline parent.
The two of us that have escaped are building lives full of love, connection, happiness and healing.
Of course I don’t have a thriving balloon business at this point in time. I needed space. My mom was my business partner, for christ’s sake. Seven days a week. Dinners after work. I had no freedom. I didn’t know The Evil Sunster and I were two different people. I knew her thoughts, I anticipated her every mood and walked on eggshells to prevent the wrath for us all. It’s too much work for anyone, let alone a child, a teenager, a twenty-something. My relationship with balloons and entrepreneurship has been so tangled in the cords of abuse.
I think I’ve started the balloon biz no less than four times. Let’s take a little look back.
First try: January 21, 2021
Less than three months after departing from Nashville, I did a little order for a birthday balloon garland. Frozen theme! Making balloon is always enjoyable. Taking photos of my pretty work sparks a little joy. My stepmother met me at the beach to photograph this one. An official announcement of my arrival from Nashville, TN to the beautiful east coat harbor town I live in now: Scituate. I wanted to quit the underpaid graphic design position I was working, especially since this five foot balloon garland earned me more than a logo I hand lettered. The logo lives on, in fact I drive by a huge sign of it to and from the t-shirt shop. After a lot of reframing, I’ve let go of the anger. And I guess I will also share that logo with you.
The positive of the graphic design job was this balloon order. It got me back in the grove of actually making balloons again. While it was fun to make, the inflation I purchased on Amazon (not yet ready to splurge $500 on my tried and true Airforce from Conway). If I started a balloon business over today, I’d invest in a good inflator right away. After this balloon garland, I didn’t want to blow anything up. Most inflators are kind of loud, but this was horrendous. JUST SAY NO.
Looking back for the photos, I’d already had “The Painted Balloon” brainstormed in the end of 2020. Cannot believe how much time I spent going back and forth on names, when this was clearly what I wanted all along. It was the lack of self belief. If approximately 30 people could instantly tell me how much they loved it, I’d be set. But alas, my sounding board just kept saying, “ChiWOWhua!” then purchased the domain name for me as a birthday gift… Thanks, Dad 🙄 🩷
Here are early editions of logos from January 2021:
Not to my surprise, I didn’t launch The Painted Balloon to the world in an official capacity until April 2023. Let’s not jump ahead though.
Anyway, I felt good about this ballooning, but then I think the garland was passed to a friend of the client that had he own little balloon business. I noticed a fairly immediate shift in the quality of this woman’s work. People asked if I put X balloon up around town. I was only a few moths out of being with my mom everyday and her voice was predominately the one in my head. During our time in business together, my mother fed me constant comparison of other balloon companies, specifically anyone who was attempting calligraphy on balloons or, god forbid, another mother-daughter duo. HELLO?! There is only room for one mother-daughter balloon team in the entire America, get it together, ladies!! As my own person, it’s evident I’ve always been a cheerleader of other female entrepreneurs. My mom had a heavy influence on my brain… I remember receiving screen shots of ballooner’s instagrams where they are, in fact, straight up copying my hand lettering. That wasn’t necessary for me to see. This poor girl in Florida, who copied many, many of my designs was especially targeted by the Evil Sunster. This semi-constant barrage of copycats inspired people in my industry didn’t help motivate me to work harder. Instead, it made feel like a worthless imposter. My anxiety grew. How could I continue to prove my worth to my mother if I was no longer unique. Also, who was she staying up until 3am on a work night stalking other ballooner’s accounts?
This first balloon job on my own felt good and bad. After comedown from the high of actually doing it again, I simply didn’t want to hear to that stupid inflator take another breath ever again and I didn’t have the funds for the Conwin. So I might as well give up! Someone else was making balloons in my little town, so I might as well give up! They even got better after seeing my work, how could I ever be the best again? I might as well give up! Looking back, I can see how well she had me trained.
My nervous system had been in fight/flight/fear since I was an infant. Enough healing hadn’t happened, but I surely enjoyed all the positive compliments I got on Facebook when I shared the pictures of my balloons on the beach.
Maybe one day I would have enough money for a proper inflator. I did find a way to order a helium tank around the same time in 2021. That baby sat in my house for three years unused, hidden behind my tv in the living room. The tank was such a burden on me, even my therapist offered to pick out up and return it to the company I was renting it from… .They still haven’t gotten it back to my knowledge…. Oops. I’ll fix that eventually. There was a lot of impulsivity: do it now, do it perfect, or never do it at all.
Perfectionism won that round.
The next balloons I made were January 1st 2022.
Honestly, I haven’t a clue what they were for… There are only two close up photos of them taken at 12:17am.
A Third Go in February 4, 2022
In November 2021 I started working part time at a local florist: Flowers and Festivities. They got to hear all about my balloon adventures and I would share photos of my work. There was a helium tank for the small balloon orders they’d do every few weeks, when someone wanted to add a birthday balloon to a floral arrangement, things of that nature. One afternoon, I sold an actual balloon bouquet with hand lettering as a get well. My boss and co-worker were in awe of my ability to write directly on the balloon; their adoration helped me believe in myself, but still couldn’t bring myself to take the leap. After ballooning, there was always a come down; depression hit and I felt somehow talented and worlds at the same time.
Creating with my hands in a medium that had absolutely no tie to my mother was healing. Plus, my Grammy loved the little arrangements I’d bring to her for holidays. The job introduced me to the town I’d spent the last year residing in on a new level. I learned the neighborhoods, saw beautiful homes and made many new friends. Delivering joy in a floral arrangement is not far-off from delivering joy with a balloon bouquet. I was a joy-spreader again!
Here are some photos of flower arrangements I created while at Flower and Festivities:
When I see someone else ballooning in may area now, I feel no sickness in my stomach. And, when I know someone was influenced by my work, I smile because it means my art, creativity, talent and the joy I personally spread has traveled even further than I could ever imagine. This last part I learned in the outpatient treatment program- shout out to that dude hosting group therapy that day!
Stay tuned for the next edition of this letter where I share the fourth and biggest go at balloons I have had since leaving Vroom Vroom Balloon in 2020.
I hope you enjoy in watching my journey as an independent artist and entrepreneur. From balloons to beyond! This research for today’s newsletter has been cathartic. Turns out, I’ve done a lot more ballooning in the past four years than I remember. I can surely do this again.
Not sure if you remember me from the hoop days, but I am so glad you escaped. You always deserved so much better.