Today we’d like to introduce you to Francisca Harrison.
Francisca, can you briefly walk us through your story – how you started and how you got to where you are today.
It all started when I was growing up in a small Hispanic community located in the heart of sunny Southern California. A little girl’s need to see things through big, bright, colorful lenses because her reality was much more dark and morose.
It definitely had something to do with my cousin Julia. When I was ten years old, I would sit and just stare intently at her, in complete awe as she would put her makeup on in preparation for whatever incredible things I thought teenagers did when they went out. Just sit back, close your eyes and create a visual for this one. Only then will you be able to truly appreciate the moment in time in which this was taking place. Think back to 1983. If that was before your time, think “Stranger Things” minus the aliens. Pat Benatar was every cool girl’s face and hair muse. The second British Invasion was taking America by storm, introducing my young generation to a new genre of music called New Wave, which had its own bold fashion that was exciting and new and just what this girl needed. I’m talking about Adam Ant and Blondie’s Debby Harry, with their big, bold eye colors with the heavily tinted lips to match. That was my introduction into the wonderful world of MAC Cosmetics, a company I would later spend 12 incredible years with. Julia would have all these shiny new products laid out in front of her. She would pull from her tattered, beat up makeup bag. I felt like I was watching an artist go to work on her canvas. I’ll never forget her red lip gloss that made her lips shine like a red candy apple, just like the painted girl on Duran Duran’s Rio album cover.
Fast forward a couple of years to when I was a sophomore. Me kicking off my Doc Marten’s while listening to The Smiths on my boom box, flipping through the pages of Seventeen Magazine. I saw what would be the first of several editorial spreads for legendary designer Jessica McClintock and her Gunne Sax campaign. I remember the ad was moody, elegant, and simple, yet it captured (in hindsight, maybe helped define) the essence of 80’s fashion. It wasn’t just the dresses that she was trying to sell us that got and kept my attention. It was more than that. I was hypnotized by the lighting in the photographs that set a very specific tone and mood. The way it hit the model’s thick, curly, unruly hair, revealing every golden highlight in each individual curl, how her lip shade was the perfect color contrast to her dress… that was no accident, that was pure artistry. The whole photograph narrated a complete story to me. It was magical. It spoke to me like nothing else ever had before.
It was at that moment when I knew that this would be my future. I allowed myself to dream that one day, I would be immersed in the world of beauty and fashion. That someday, I would be a vital part of New York Fashion Week. Little did I realize that I had just added the first item to my bucket list. Thirty years later, I’m proud to say that I checked that goal right off of it! Thirty years, two marriages, six children and many, many life lessons later, to be precise. It has been a long road.
My journey to become a makeup artist began back in 1997 after my divorce from my first husband. I started working at the fragrance counter in Dillard’s at a shopping center in Houston Texas. It was not quite the makeup counter, or working for an actual cosmetic line, but it was definitely a foot in the door. From there I worked hard until I was promoted to a makeup counter, then to another, then to another. I worked my way through every cosmetic counter in every major department store. I built my experience with lines such as Clarins, Estee Lauder, Lancome, Aveda and Bobbi Brown, honing my people skills and truly absorbing the lessons that presented themselves almost everyday. When I was ready, I accepted a position as a Freelance Artist with MAC Cosmetics. That is when my artistry career truly began. I watched my fellow artists work. I listened. I asked a lot of questions. And most importantly, I learned from them. They became my greatest teachers.
Next came a position with Stila Cosmetics. I became an Educational Artist/Market Trainer for the Dallas territory. This position ultimately introduced and transitioned me into the new and exciting world of runway makeup. The very first runway show I worked on was an annual Dallas tradition called “The Pin Show”, which was the brainchild of the creative minds of Julie McCullough and Willie Johnson. Luckily Stila Cosmetics was the proud makeup sponsor, so I felt as though the stars were finally aligning for me! Once I took my first bite of the runway experience, I recalled the first item on my bucket list, so I had my intentions set and focused on New York. I had my eye on the prize, and somehow, someway, I was going to make this dream a reality.
Speaking of reality… It set in. Big time! At the very same time, my career was heading in a very positive and exciting direction, my personal life was not. Residual effects of childhood abuse began to manifest themselves. I had not realized it yet, but I had been creating patterns. Patterns of finding and choosing abusive partners with the exception of my first husband. It was during this time I married husband number 2. We had been together 11 years at this point. It was an extremely toxic and abusive relationship, mentally, physically, and emotionally. He had this incessant need to constantly let me know how worthless he thought I was in every area of my life: as a mother, a spouse, a daughter, a friend, and even as a human being. How could this not make me doubt myself and my ability to be anything more than the failure he saw me as?
Nonetheless, I continued to work extremely hard. I focused on my goal and kept pushing forward. I began working runway shows with the legendary Jan Strimple, founder at Jan Strimple Productions. Next, I would get to work with the amazing Rachael Zoe on a show for her runway collection. Opportunities I had never even imagined were beginning to present themselves thanks to Stila. Twenty years of training and experience in the cosmetic industry were my ticket to these incredible opportunities. And I was getting one step closer to my dream.
My time with Stila readied me for my new position with NARS Cosmetics as an Educational Artist/Market Trainer. I juggled between my new position and traveling back and forth from Dallas to California to work as a makeup artist for the Envy Talent Agency in Los Angeles. It was through the head of Envy that I would be recommended to the extraordinary woman that I have worked with the past three years. A woman who taught me how to build upon my skill set, as well as how the industry works. A woman who I greatly respect and has become an incredible mentor to me. She is Ms. April Love, founder of the April Love Makeup Academy, located in San Gabriel, California. She was looking for a few artists to join her team for New York Fashion Week that fall season. And on December 23rd, 2017, just two days before Christmas, April asked if I would like to be a member of her team for New York Fashion Week! The moment I had worked so hard for and dreamed about my whole life had finally arrived and it was a feeling like no other. I did it! I was on my way to New York!!
I will never forget the exact moment when I shared the news with my kids. We all jumped up and down, hugging each other with tears in our eyes. Happy tears are the best. With this accomplishment also came a sense of validation. I had accomplished what my husband told me I could never attain. My hope was that he would be happy for, or dare I say it, proud of me. My reality was that he found a way to dismiss it as if it were nothing. This crushed me and buried any sense of achievement that I allowed myself to have. At that time, I did not understand that I would never find self-validation by seeking it from others. A lesson I would later learn through some very painful experiences. I moved ahead with the oh so familiar process of getting over it, as he had always instructed me to do.
I was scheduled to fly out for NYFW the second week of February. I had spent weeks prepping my makeup kit perfectly. It was ready and waiting for that 3-hour flight to New York. My suitcases were filled with the perfect outfits for the perfect trip. I had visualized this moment in my head since I was 16 years old. I was about to live my dream and NOTHING was going to stop me…
But what’s the old saying?
“Want to make God laugh?
Tell him your plans.”
What was supposed to be one of the most exciting weeks of my professional life turned into the most nightmarish time in my personal one. I know now that this was my biggest “tower moment.” Life, as I had always known it, was about to change in a very drastic way. Early one afternoon a few weeks before I was set to leave for New York, I was having a very low-key kind of a Sunday. My husband and my youngest son were out for the day. It was just myself and my youngest daughter hanging out at the house. I was on the phone with my second eldest daughter, who was then living in New York. We were trying to put together some meet-up plans for my upcoming trip. Out of nowhere, I heard a loud scream from upstairs. I sprang off the couch and ran up to see what had happened. The screams were coming from my daughter’s restroom so I threw open the door to find my 16-year-old daughter covered in blood in the bathtub. She had cut open her wrists in an attempt to take her own life. I think I went into shock. I knew what I was seeing in front of me but I could not process it: My youngest daughter was there in a pool of her own blood on what was up until then just a normal Sunday. I just remember asking her over and over again, “What did you do!?”
There was so much blood. I reached for the closest things I could find. I wrapped two t-shirts around her wrists in hopes of creating some form of a tourniquet. Anything to try and stop the bleeding until I could get her to the emergency room where her arms would be stitched up and wrapped in gauzes. Once admitted, several physicians would evaluate her, then barrage me with what seemed like a never-ending list of questions: “Did she seem depressed to you?” “Does she use drugs?” “Were there any signs?” I answered them almost robotically. I was there physically, but mentally all I could see was the same scene playing over and over again in my head. My daughter covered in blood in that upstairs bathroom, begging me to let her die. After what felt like the longest day of my life, my daughter was admitted into a psychiatric hospital to treat her depression, anxiety, as well as drug and alcohol dependence. She would spend the next year and a half in and out of hospitals and treatment centers battling her demons.
I went home that night and when I entered that house, I knew nothing in it would ever look the same. I tried to unwind and go to bed but whether my eyes were open or shut, all I could see was the same horrific scene. It was then that I was about to see and feel what 40 years of abuse and abusive relationships had done to me and how that had trickled down into my children’s lives.
My biological father left shortly after I was born. He never put forth any effort to have a relationship with me. After that I watched my mother suffer through physical abuse with my stepfather. He was bipolar and an alcoholic. One day my mother packed up me, my younger sister and as many things as she could shove into our car and left him. We went to live with my grandparents in El Sereno, located in the northeast end of Los Angeles. That is where we would reside for the next five years. Five years that would forever change me and mold me into the person I was to become. It was the most extreme form of chaos and dysfunction you could ever imagine seeing, much less live through.
It was there, in the “safety” of my grandparent’s house that I endured years of sexual abuse from two older cousins.Where I witnessed explosive arguments and violent, physical altercations often fueled by drugs and alcohol. Where I witnessed countless incidents of police being called to our residence to break up a fight or arrest one of my uncles for being under the influence of heroin or PCP. When I tried to escape by playing outside, I would often find drug paraphernalia strewn around the yard. Everything from spoons to armbands that I would just have to navigate around. And let’s not forget the abuse. Having a parent who knew you were being sexually abused but did absolutely nothing to pull me out of that environment because it was the same environment she had been raised in. She was taught that you dust those things under the rug where they belong. That you do not vocalize those things because it is family and you protect family. There was a level of hypocrisy in that I could never quite wrap my head around. This was not how normal families existed. The truly tragic thing was that I would go on to live my life believing that it was. I did not stand a chance at living a normal life.
So when my parents divorced is right about the time I developed an eating disorder, and also when the sexual abuse by my cousins began. Food became comfort for me. My grandmother would call me a glutton and a slob. (The matriarch of Hell’s Kitchen) I would often be told by other family members how unattractive and ignorant I was. I had no self-esteem whatsoever. I could not even fathom what that was. I felt dirty all the time. I lived in fear. My cousin who was sexually abusing me would tell me how angry everyone would be at me if I told anyone what he was doing to me. About how upset and disappointed my mother would be in me. I believed him. I was eight years old. At that same age, I developed a severe case of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD). To protect myself, I would do everything in a series of even numbers. The logic behind it for an 8-year-old mind was if I had done everything in my life up to that very moment (the moment my cousin ripped my childhood away from me) once maybe if I did everything twice or in even numbers vs. odd numbers, my cousin would stay away from me, so I did that up until I was 17 years old. It was then that I started to experiment with drugs. The drugs altered my brain chemistry and resulted in the OCD dissipating, some silver lining. Another thing I found myself doing was wearing layers upon layers of clothing even in the hot summertime because I was ashamed of my body. I also thought/hoped/needed those layers of clothes to act as a barrier between me and my abuser, like a suit of armor that protected me when I felt that no one else was.
This resulted in years upon years of creating and repeating some very toxic patterns in my life. Going from one abusive relationship to the next because somewhere along the line the abuse had evolved into a form of comfort. It was familiar and one of the very few things in my life that was consistent. As much as I had always craved normalcy in my life, it was completely foreign to me and when finally presented with it I could not find comfort in it. All I had ever known was the chaos. Anything better than abusive or demeaning behavior toward me was just not something I felt worthy of, hence me self sabotaging any and all healthy relationships that did cross my path. This is exactly what happened to my first marriage. Try to find happiness in that equation. Unfortunately, you cannot.
Back to Fashion Week, my daughter was still in the hospital and I was now suffering from a severe case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). I would later discover this was not exclusively because of my daughter’s suicide attempt. That event was merely a catalyst that opened the door for all the past traumas I had experienced to come flooding back in. The straw that broke the camel’s back, if you will. It all catches up to you, one way or another. You can count on it. So other than going back and forth to the hospital for my daughter or going to work, I did not even bother to get out of my pajamas. I had lost interest in just about everything. I was no longer excited about Fashion Week and had decided not to go. I felt incredibly uneasy with the idea of being 1500 miles away in the event something was to happen to her. As I struggled with this decision, my husband was not providing any kind of support to me or toward his daughter’s predicament. He never even once visited her while she was hospitalized.
It was then that my oldest daughter and my son-in-law stepped in and lovingly insisted that I go to New York. They knew that I had been dreaming of this moment since I was sixteen and that if I did not go I would regret it for the rest of my life. They promised to hold down the fort for the week that I would be gone. This was my kid being my champion, saying and doing what I hoped my husband would. I knew then that I would not only do this for myself, but for my kids. They had seen enough of me at my lowest. It was time they saw me shine. At the time, I did not understand why God was presenting me with this incredible opportunity while coinciding it with what felt like the worst time of my entire life. I could not make any real sense of it. It felt like the universe was playing a cruel joke on me. It all makes perfect sense now. I decided to trust that God had a plan. Even though I had no earthly clue what that plan was… I was going to trust in it. And so I did.
February in New York City is magical, any month is actually. Still, I felt so incredibly guilty being there. All I could think about was my daughter and how it felt like I had failed her as well as the rest of my children. I remember the morning of the first day of fashion week. I was trying to talk myself out of going. I had so much anxiety, depression and good old self-loathing going on. I was convinced I was going to fall flat on my face that day. I was petrified. My palms were sweating. My stomach was in knots. I then remember telling myself, “This is what you have wanted your whole life. Even if I manage to completely screw this up and I am asked to leave and never return I will have New York Fashion Week to add to my resume.” I also felt that it would be incredibly irresponsible of me to let April, the team, or more importantly myself down. I had a responsibility and a goal to attend to… AND I DID AND I NAILED IT!
When I returned to Dallas, life quickly took on a different direction and it all seemed to be moving rather quickly. In time my daughter was discharged from the hospital and we began the arduous task of trying to work with and understand her bipolar diagnosis. There was therapy, lots of it. There was the medications and the countless hits and misses trying to find the combination that worked for her. It was challenging. But remember that I had other children to care for too. You try keeping your youngest somewhat balanced through this very unbalanced situation. Afterall, his big sister was his best friend. This was very confusing to him and hit him extremely hard. But life went on. It had to. So with all this on my plate, I was offered my next big work event, L.A. Fashion Week.
Working the second biggest fashion week in the country had its benefits. For one, my work there would appear in my first big publication, Vogue China. Wow! It was another dream come true, but more like the type of dream that you laugh at yourself for having because you think you know how unrealistic it is. I could not believe that all of this was really happening. I would continue to work with the April Love Pro Team for the upcoming spring and fall seasons for New York, Los Angeles and eventually Miami Fashion Week. Throughout the years my work would appear in Cosmopolitan, Elle, Harper’s Bazaar, The L.A. Times Lifestyle Section, New York Style Guide as well as Lovin Malta. I would also have the opportunity to work under the direction of such greats as Scott Barnes, a top celebrity makeup artist.
For the very first time in my entire life I felt like I was good at something. I was proud of what I was accomplishing. Unfortunately my husband did not share my excitement. He resented my career and relished having yet another reason to harbor further animosity towards me. He would make me feel guilty for what I was doing. He would say I was a horrible parent and a selfish person for doing what I was doing. I think what he hated most about it was that I was succeeding, which made me happy and provided me with some form of self esteem. He was not interested in letting any of those things happen. Who would I be in this scenario if I did not feel like I was beneath him? That was the only role he was interested in casting me in.
One day I asked him if there was ever going to be anything that I did that would even slightly impress him? If he would ever be proud of me or anything I did. His response I will never forget. He said, “Never, I will never support you. I will never encourage you. I will never be proud of anything you do, ever. Please never forget that.” I went to my bedroom and cried like I had so many times before. The pain felt so deep and yet so familiar. The familiarity is what scared me for the very first time. I had put myself in a position to be mentally, emotionally and physically abused by this person for 13 years. I knew that if I did not leave him I would eventually take my own life and I knew that moment was upon me. All I could think about were my kids. What it would do to them if I did something like that. I did not want to add any more pain to their lives. So with my hands trembling and legs shaking I looked into the eyes of the cruelest, coldest and most heartless human being I have ever experienced in my 48 years of life. He almost destroyed me, but I refused to let him. I was done with his abuse.
We finalized our divorce in July of 2019. I moved out of the house. I let him keep everything in it. I was so worn down. I knew what I was entitled to, but I had no desire to go another 12 rounds with him in a long, drawn-out divorce and custody battle, He had sucked the life and soul out of me. What little bit I was holding on to for dear life I did not want to invest in him or the situation any further. As much as I wanted full custody of my son, I knew it would tear him apart to feel like he had to choose. He expressed something to the sort on many occasions. I could not bear the idea of putting any of my kids through any more drama. We had all been through enough, so I agreed to 50/50 custody. I agreed to a lot of things based purely on exhaustion and fear. The fear I had toward my ex-husband was very real and often felt paralyzing. His mental abuse had definitely taken its toll on me.
Agreeing to 50/50 custody was for my son and only for him. In doing such I felt trapped in a situation with a person I so desperately wanted to just completely eliminate from my life. All I wanted to do was put as much distance as I possibly could between myself and my ex. My hope was to either move to New York or back home to California, the two places that made the most sense in terms of my career. I felt like putting Texas in my rear view mirror. It was a place that harbored nothing but painful memories for me. I was ready for a complete change.The only way that was going to happen was if I moved without my son because there was no way that his father was going to let him move out of state with me. This was my Hell. Francisca the woman needed a change, but Francisca the mother could not leave her son. So the job offers began to roll in and I would decline every single one of them. As exciting as they were, I could not bear the thought of not being with him. I decided to rent a room through an Airbnb. It seemed like a practical, inexpensive and temporary move until I could figure out what my next step was. This was in October of 2019. In the next couple of months I would start to heavily feel the impact of how the cosmetic industry was changing because of the Youtube Influencer trend and the wonderful world of online shopping. Life was about to get hard again.
The companies which are termed “prestige lines” were taking a huge hit. They were no longer drawing in the clientele and robust sales they had grown accustomed to over the past decades The industry was changing. The cosmetic lines that were once solely found in such upscale stores as Saks 5th Avenue, Barney’s, Neiman Marcus and Nordstrom were now making the shift into mass retail locations such as Ulta in an attempt to keep up with the lines whose products were being used and recommended by the growing group of YouTube influencers. One no longer had to enter a luxury department store to get that personal consultation from an artist, because now they were getting them from anyone that had a YouTube channel who called themselves a “makeup artist”.
Now folks could watch a 20 minute video on makeup application then click a link to buy the products they just watched being used with the influencer now making the profit. The only problem with that was there was a particular “go to look” that was all the rage. The consumers being unaware and ill informed that not all products work the same on everyone. There are a lot of different factors that play a part in how the actual makeup application will play out on each individual. Facial features as well as skin type and tone play a huge role in the selection and application processes The idea that one product works for everyone is just not the case. Regardless the struggle to compete with the influencers and the brands they endorsed was on. Budgets for these cosmetic lines would begin to be cut. Account Executives as well as Global Artists would lose their jobs. Freelancers would soon follow. The lines that were able to keep their freelancers had a shrinking budget to work with. This meant that if you were now scheduled in store your only objective was to make those daily sales goals. It felt like it had become less and less about the artistry. It also put a lot of added pressure on the artists. If you did not hit those numbers, you could be certain that your hours for the following weeks would be cut. Many of us were now working for two or three different lines just to keep our head above water, but somehow I was not drowning. Nothing short of a worldwide pandemic was going to stop me… Oh, hello 2020.
On February 4th, 2020 I would fly out to New York once again for Fashion Week. I was, of course, completely unaware of the fact that it would be the last Fashion Week I would work for the foreseeable future. There was talk of a Virus out of Asia and questions as to if it would reach the States. All anyone really knew at this point was that there were confirmed cases in China and parts of Italy. We were all a little nervous, because people fly in from all over the world for Fashion Week. There are hundreds of people who occupy the venue daily and we would be working closely alongside most, if not all of them. Toward the end of the week the media would start reporting of confirmed cases in New York. No one could predict that in just two short weeks the city of New York would completely shut down because they were in the midst of a pandemic. We wrapped up another season of Fashion Week and I flew back home to Dallas on February 10th. Three weeks later the state of Texas would begin a mandatory quarantine. I as well as many, many others in my industry would receive the news that we were all being furloughed until further notice. Most would never have work assignments to return to, myself included. Bring it on 2020.
Now for those of you who are not aware, there is a very large portion of people who suffer from such mental disorders as depression, anxiety, bipolar, etc. within my industry. Their artistry in whatever form that happens to take, is a huge outlet and a healthy coping mechanism for most. When that option is stripped away, and you are forced to be confined to your home, along with losing your daily interactions with the people you look forward to seeing, it can feel like a very unwanted change. Unwanted changes, all by themselves, can often trigger bouts of anxiety. On top of that factor you are also now unemployed, and need to quickly figure out how to support yourself and your family. If that does not feel like enough stress, add the fear of a deadly virus that you know little to nothing about. You are constantly being fed so much different information, as well as misinformation about it through the media, that you are unsure what is fact and what is fiction. Always carrying around that fear in the back of your mind, that at any given moment you or one of your loved one’s could fall victim to the virus. When you suffer with depression and anxiety every single day has the possibility of feeling just like this, COVID or no COVID. A lot of us tend to hold back from sharing our struggles with any of these things. Often we feel embarrassed and ashamed because of the very unfair stigma attached to mental illnesses.
Until now.
Welcome to the new normal.
The CDC report shows that 40.9% of adults say they’ve had at least one mental health effect, including symptoms of anxiety or depression (30.9%), symptoms of trauma or stressor-related disorder (26.3%), and starting or increasing substance use to cope (13.3%).
Women have been turning to alcohol for relief from the COVID-19 pandemic at alarming rates, with a 41% increase in heavy, or binge, drinking episodes since March. Alcohol consumption for people over age 30 is up in general, with a 14% overall increase, according to research published in the Journal of the American Medical Association Network Open. Conducted by the RAND Corp. and supported by the National Institute of Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism.
Suspected overdoses nationally — not all of them fatal — jumped 18% in March compared with last year, 29% in April and 42% in May, according to the Overdose Detection Mapping Application Program, a federal initiative that collects data from ambulance teams, hospitals and police.
I know I have presented you with a lot of different information. All of which was very important for me to convey in order for me to be able to clearly show you the path I am headed down, I needed to be able to give you a glimpse of the path I had traveled on. Now I will tie this all together for you.
Since COVID-19 hit in March of 2020 I have scrambled to keep myself together spiritually, mentally and financially. Starting over after a divorce is a scary experience. Being on your own for the first time after a 13 year abusive relationship coupled with the madness of a worldwide pandemic, has been ineffable, to say the least. I accepted the challenges that lay before me in rebuilding myself after what can only be described as 40 years of unremitting pain and I planned on using my career as a lifeboat. It was the one thing I felt I could depend on. The one thing that was mine that no one could take away from me. I was striving for mental and emotional stability, but in the meantime, my financial stability would accord me some peace of mind while I was actively working on the others. When the pandemic took even that from me, it was as if the rug had been pulled out from under me. I felt defeated. It was as if every single person who had ever told me I would amount to nothing was right. I had spent my whole life trying to prove to others as well as myself, sadly in that order, that they were wrong. I questioned that greatly now. The depression that was setting in was intense. I could not find employment anywhere in the retail market because I was overqualified. I had to drop the illusion that I was going to make wages that were anywhere close to what I had been making pre-COVID. For months, it simply had come down to how to survive.
One terribly hot afternoon in August my car decided to go out on me, completely. This was a gut punch being that I had taken a job with Uber Eats and my vehicle was critical to my livelihood. I needed to call the dealership but first I needed to call AT&T to see if I could arrange a payment plan as I was late on my phone bill and desperate to keep my phone on. It was on that call that I would speak to a representative that was meant to shift my narrative.
She was a call center representative who had been working from home since March. After just a few moments of speaking to her I could tell she was a very sweet and very empathetic woman. She made sure that she could find a payment arrangement that I could work with so my service would not be interrupted. We talked for what was a good hour. We were talking about how life had played out for both of us since March. I am a very open person. I have no qualms with being honest and sharing from a very honest place. I came to find out that is exactly what she needed that day. I told her about how I found some form of comfort in the fact that I was not going through all these rough hurdles on my own. Many were in similar circumstances. I shared with her how running had become something I looked forward to daily. Breathing in the outside air, taking in nature, stopping by the creek after my run and just sitting on the rocks listening to the water, the birds, frogs, everything I discovered I had not paid much attention to prior to this. It had become a way of working through the anxiety.
Sharing that quickly opened her up to sharing how she had just purchased a bike and started riding. Turns out that she was forced to work from home out of her makeshift home office. Working ten hours, never being able to leave that spot, that she had come to dread. Ten hours a day, with no interaction with the outside world except on her work phone. She lamented how she missed the simple joys of life once taken for granted, like smiling and waving to people in the grocery store. She began to cry. She confided that she was now suffering from depression and anxiety and to combat that her and her husband made it a point to take evening bike rides together. I told her, “It is all going to be okay”. That we would be okay. I gave her some suggestions on how she could work with her depression and anxiety. Most importantly though, I wanted to make sure that she knew she was not a lesser person for experiencing this. She was not broken or defeated, merely challenged right now and never alone. In her soft voice, still cracking from weeping she said, “Thank you so much Francisca. I needed to get this out. I had no idea when I picked up your call today that this would transpire, but I am so very grateful that it did.” Words from a woman that I will never forget.
It was then that I had my “a ha moment” Things seemed clearer. There were no longer questions as to why my life had been so challenging. Why I was born into my circumstances? Why was I born into such a broken dysfunctional family? Why had I spent my life in abusive situations? Why had the struggle been so fierce to the point of feeling like I could not hold on another day? That phone call was why. I was meant to live through every single one of those experiences. The experiences that could have and should have broken me, because I did not let them. I understand now that I was meant to feel them deeply. I needed them to impact me fully. They needed to bring me to my knees, so that when I stood up I could teach others how to do the same. The past two years has been an evolving process for me, both personally and professionally.
I obviously have a passion for beauty. Through this evolution I have grown to realize that my love for beauty exceeds far beyond the physical realm. As a matter of fact I am a firm believer that inner beauty is essential. Our beauty flows from the inside out. I know now that I want to teach people how to find and nurture their inner beauty. How to not only recognize it but acknowledge it. How to harness it, share it, create from it as well as build upon it. I am so grateful that my career as a makeup artist has taught me to not only see but appreciate the beauty in everyone, and also how to interact with all sorts of people in every stage of life. That it is a catalyst for which I could create and have a platform to get my voice out there, to be heard because I have something important to say and a doozy of a story to tell.
I am currently writing a book. A story about my life and experiences, in the hopes of inspiring people who have suffered through abuse. I hope to bring comfort and understanding to people who struggle with mental illnesses. I intend to dust off my public speaking skills. Believe it or not, I won many awards in high school during my two year stretch as a member of the San Gabriel High School Debate Team. (not to toot my own horn, lol) I credit my amazing debate coach, another important mentor in my life Mr. Doug Campbell (whom I keep in contact with to this very day) for helping a shy, timid, scared little girl find her voice. It is time to get back out there and let that voice be heard once again.
In the words of the great Maya Angelou (a woman whose life journey has always been an inspiration to me). “You can’t really know where you are going until you know where you have been.” I know where I have been and I know now where I am going. And while I am journeying that brand new path, I intend to shine my light so brightly that it will only be able to guide and help others find that beautiful light within themselves.
Great, so let’s dig a little deeper into the story – has it been an easy path overall and if not, what were the challenges you’ve had to overcome?
The road has been anything but smooth. It’s funny though. I used to resent that. Now I embrace it because I know every single moment of my life, both good and bad, was meant to happen exactly as it did. If only so that I could stand where I currently stand today. A flawed human being with a lifetime of knowledge and a heart that is filled with love, empathy, understanding, a higher perspective, and promise.
My journey has included the highest highs and the lowest lows, from giving birth to six magnificent children, to enduring several failed and abusive relationships. I have experienced the complete magic of accomplishing one of my life-long goals by being a part of New York Fashion Week and learning how truly special that is. I am fortunate and so grateful to have had my dream turn into a reality. I watched with pride as my daughter graduated in the top 10 of her college class. I have been there for the births of my gorgeous grandchildren. But then there are the lows, like the day I sat in the airport cradling my newborn son Alec, while trying to avoid eye contact from the countless travelers who looked at me with pity because my nose was broken and bandaged and my face was bruised and swollen from the beating his father bestowed on me the previous night.
Or when he held a box cutter to my throat and whispered, “I should kill you right now.” As I closed my eyes and waited for death, the only thing I could see were my children’s faces. I know that it was divine intervention that allowed me to open my eyes as he unclenched my throat and allowed me to walk back to my car. I started my vehicle as quickly as I could, slammed my foot on the gas and drove as quickly as I could to the nearest gas station where I parked my car and cried hysterically, shaking and thanking God for sparing my life. I meant what I said when I said the road was anything but smooth.
The funny thing about life is it will bring you moments of pure happiness you never even thought were possible. Moments you wish would never ever end. It can also bring you moments that will absolutely bring you to your knees. How we choose to deal with those moments, and all the moments in between, is what shapes and defines us. When you experience abuse your perception of who you are and how you see yourself becomes very distorted. Where there was once trust, now lives fear. Where there was once innocence there is now guilt. The self love you once relied on is now bullied into a corner by self loathing.
The dynamic of negative feelings we create within ourselves is far greater than any damage anyone else could cause us. People who have been abused often get caught in the pattern of being with abusive partners and allow others in their inner circles to orchestrate the path to their demise, and can take on a victim mentality. This is due to not being able to set clear healthy boundaries for yourself, as well as just becoming complacent with the routine of being the victim. It becomes far easier to not question someone who tells you that you are worthless and damaged than it is to believe someone who tells you that you are beautiful and priceless. This is due to the negative rhetoric that plays over and over in our heads day in and day out. This can manifest into mental illness or unhealthy self-sabotaging behavior. Conditions ranging from alcoholism, drug abuse, sex addictions, self mutilation, codependency, narcissistic behavior and suicidal thoughts can present themselves, but it does not have to be like this.
Through my numerous struggles and challenges, I have learned a HELL of a lot. I have learned that you will always be bigger than your challenges, no matter how astronomically huge they may seem to be. As human beings we have the divine power to not only endure and overcome our bad experiences but to learn from them and flourish in spite of them. I, and I alone, am the only person who has the power to create my happiness. No other person can create that for me. I have learned that you cannot put the expectation on others to fill in your gaps and to love you unconditionally if you do not have the courage to love yourself in the same manner first. The energy you put out into this world is what you will draw in. There will always be people who will try to dim your light. Get them out of your way. They have as much power as you give them, so give them none. Your light is your life so nurture it and protect it, like the precious gem it is. Never compare yourself or your circumstances to others. People will only allow you to see what they want you to see. Most would not have ever guessed what I was going through behind the fine curtains of my seemingly “perfect life”.
You have no idea what someone may be going through, so remember to say a kind word or two or pass on a selfless gesture when you can. It can have such a positive and powerful impact on someone who may have really needed that shift in their day. And who knows, you could actually save a life just by saying, “I hope you are having a good day!” Anything’s possible.
Lastly and probably most importantly I have learned that fear is a very powerful thing and if you allow it to it will control every aspect of your life. Fear will hinder you from ever knowing your full potential. Fear has been my co-pilot for far too long. That fear of strangers, family, friends, relationships, intimacy, the future… I have spent my life living under the expectations and standards of others, never being true to who I really was or how I really felt. Always being afraid that I would disappoint others if I allowed myself to feel, speak up for myself, and be who I truly was. It never made me happy and worst it kept me from allowing myself to discover who I really was.
So the point of sharing my experiences, of putting pen to paper and forcing myself to let it all out, of putting it all out there for my children, friends and family to read was to let you all know that the moment I allowed myself to end that cycle, that familiar routine of abuse, my life long embrace of self-doubt, my undeserved shame, my secrets (now my truths), and allowed myself to forgive me just for being human, only then did my life drastically change for the better. It feels easier to breathe now.
Was it easy? Not a bit.
Was it worth it? More than I could have ever hoped to imagine.
“Even if your hands are shaking
And your faith is broken
Even as the eyes are closing
Do it with a heart wide open (a wide heart)
Say what you need to say’.
John Mayer
We’d love to hear more about your work.
I am in the business of creating beauty. The past 21 years I have created beauty through makeup, which I am still doing today. The world of fashion and runway is on hold right now during this pandemic. Currently I am a color specialist for Sephora. I specialize in consulting and assisting clients with their beauty questions and needs creatively and safely in a time when physical contact is greatly limited. My 20- plus years of experience in skincare and makeup has enabled me to service our clients by adhering to our COVID-19 safety guidelines, addressing their needs, possessing expert knowledge of our product line, and having a great eye for detail.
I also perform private online consultations via Zoom. After our full one hour consultation I provide my clients with a list of products that cater to their personal skincare and makeup needs. I began providing this service at the start of the pandemic. Zoom allows my clients the peace of mind of receiving their consultations from the safety and comfort of their own homes. Let’s be real. Color matching is challenging when you are shopping online. My job and expertise is removing the guesswork from that process.
As for my future endeavors, my plan is to finish writing my book. I also would like to throw my hat in the arena of public speaking. I want to be an advocate for people who suffer from abuse and mental illness. I feel that with all my experiences that it is now time to teach. This will begin with devoting my time to local women’s shelters. When all is aligned and ready my plan is to open a wellness center that focuses on all things beauty. A place where you can focus on both your inner and outer beauty. My center will provide Reiki, yoga, as well as meditation classes. I want to have a spa that provides massage therapy and aesthetic facials with products that promote wellness with essential oil ingredients as well as CBD that are formulated in- house by the clients that are specially tailored to their individual needs.
Currently I am known for my accomplishments in the makeup industry. I am proud of what I have accomplished. It was done with nothing but heart. My endeavors with my book, my wellness centers, and my outreach are my new passion. I want to reach and help as many people as I possibly can. I want to share what I have learned and help them discover the beauty within themselves. I cannot think of a better way to spend the rest of my life..
Do you look back particularly fondly on any memories from childhood?
My favorite memory from childhood was most definitely celebrating the 4th of July, Every Independence Day from the time I was 7 until I was 17 my whole family would get together including aunts uncles, cousins, friends and just about everyone we could think of. The night before my mom and my aunts would stay up cooking all night preparing the most delish dishes ever for our big celebration. The following morning we would all wake up at 7 am, pack up all the cars, and head to Huntington Beach. We always got an early start because we knew that beach would fill to capacity every single year. We would find a spot with a fire pit and set up umbrellas, tents, grills… you name it, we had it. The local rock radio station KLOS would play the top 100 favorite rock songs of all time: Led Zeppelin, The Doors, Pink Floyd, Peter Frampton, etc., all throughout the day. We would all bet on what the top 5 for that year would be.
My cousins and I spent 95% of the time in the water. We would boogie board, tackle some tasty waves, and get our butts tossed back to the shore about a hundred times. Every single time we came up from the water we would laugh at who ate it the worst. We played. We ate. We talked. We laughed. The 4th of July was always always a great time for me because I knew that for a day, like all our holidays, that we lived the life of a normal family.
When the sun set into the Pacific we would all caravan to my aunt’s house. Sunburned and tired but still excited we would all huddle together and watch the fireworks. For those precious hours, all was right in my world. Those remain the most cherished memories of my youth.
Contact Info:
- Website: http://www.linktr.ee/artistrybyfrancisca
- Email: artistrybyfrancisca@gmail.com
- Facebook: www.facebook.com/artistrybyfrancisc
- Instagram: artistrybyfrancisca
Image Credits:
Art Hearts Fashion
Johnathan Sutton
Carlos Hauanes
Harper’s Bazaar
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