If you say you’re an artist, where’s the ‘proof’?
I have been asked a few times why I don’t have any artwork, why everything I have is what I just (literally, in some case) created?
Well, here it is, I’m going to tell you.
Forgive me if I break down occasionally, or if I stumble in my telling my story. It’s still a bit raw.
I was married, for 22 years. Yes,…that’s almost a quarter of a century!
A lifetime for some.
I married a good provider, some would say
A handsome man, a good man;
Just, I found, NOT the man for ME.
I don’t wish to speak ill of my ex,
I have two fantastic beautiful children from him,
I learn a LOT about myself from him.
I also realized how very incompatible we actually were, it just took me twenty-some YEARS to figure it out!
Why did it take that long?
I’ll tell you why,…
I didn’t KNOW me, mySELF! (I still not always sure I do, I do know I have a better handle on it though!)
I THOUGHT I knew what I wanted out of life and,…
I THOUGHT that this man would go there with me.
I thought wrong.
The older we got the further apart we got.
I was a completely different person OUTSIDE of my home.
I didn’t realize it until a work friend came over and commented on how reserved I was at home.
(I was more ‘myself’ at work!).
She didn’t understand until she met my ex.
He is a very reserved, ‘realist’ (negative, in my mind) quiet person.
I, on the other hand, am anything BUT any of those things!
How could two people SO COMPLETELY different end up together? (Kids, will do it)
We, as I grew to find out, had NOTHING in common.
I LOVE books, he hated to read.
I adore ALL kinds of music from all over the world, he only likes one genre.
I LOVE art and creative making of any kind, he, well,…did not.
He wanted to ‘live out his years’ in one place (‘his death house’, as he SO quaintly put it), I want to travel the world!
He wanted us to be ‘friends’, I did NOT!
He was, I’m sorry to say, not someone I would have picked as a friend and yet we were married!!
I decided one day, that I was not going to stay in a marriage that didn’t make me happy.
I would leave before things got to the point of my resenting him (I was VERY close to that point!)
It was a series of events, that created that trigger, that lightbulb to go off, that realization that things were NOT working.
Small things that built up, things I didn’t notice, until my family and friends (TRUE friends) started to tell me (once I started ASKING!).
I hadn’t been happy for a VERY long time, years even,
I hadn’t been honest with myself or my husband.
By the time I started to realize these things, we had gotten to the point where I couldn’t talk to him.
I would get so pissed off/upset/whatever and start to cry.
We NEVER had good communication skills.
No offense to him, but when you can’t talk to your husband without feeling belittled, you stop talking!
We didn’t talk about politics, religion, and on money (barely).
On the former two he had set view points and well,…let’s just leave it at that.
The latter,… THAT I’ll admit was on me, I sucked at anything to do with money.
I left, my daughter had gotten married and moved out; my son was 15 and didn’t want to leave his dad alone.
He said he knew that I’d be fine and would be OK, his dad wouldn’t.
Um,…okay. (Heart breaking inside!)
My son and I used to be close, very close.
That is one thing from all of this I do regret.
Leaving him with his father.
Certain people are good people they just aren’t good at showing their emotions and that is difficult to grow up with.
I am an emotional person (much as I a loathe to admit it!);
my ex, well, let’s just say his father wasn’t an emotionally forthcoming person and it runs in the family.
I left my son there, with someone who probably shut down and shutoff (I don’t know).
It killed me.
I moved to Georgia (the one place, ironically, I swore as a kid, I would never move, and now I LOVE!).
When I left, all I took were my books, my art supplies, and that was about it.
All my ‘work’, I left.
Now, understand, when I say ‘work’ I don’t mean only paintings, drawings.
By work, I mean, a wide variety of things.
I’ve taught myself how to sew; quilts, clothes, Halloween costumes, dolls, teddy bears, etc.
(On a side note, my first attempt at sewing clothes, I made my daughter (who was two) a dress. Lmao!! It was four sizes too big! It didn’t fit her until she was six!)
I taught myself how to fix anything around the house.
I taught myself to draw, to paint, to explore, to grow creatively.
I used art and writing and reading and meditation to grow, to understand myself.
I used it as my therapist.
I wasn’t comfortable telling someone else things about myself I wasn’t even sure about,
so I used art and my other creative outlets to learn more about myself.
But,…when I left, I left that part of me.
I didn’t want ANY of it.
So all my work, all the pieces of myself from that time, I left.
Some may not understand, some may wonder why I didn’t take my work.
All work, EVERYTHING, anyone creates has a piece of them in it.
It has something of your soul in it.
That is a wonderful thing, because that means that when you want to release the crap, the SHIT, the bad, the negative, you CAN!
You can pour it all into the creation and then move on.
If you decide you want to keep that piece to remind you of where you DON’T want to return, you can.
If you want to release it and let it go and NEVER see it again, you can,…and I DID!
I understand that my story is rather on the boring side.
No major abuse, no physical trauma.
I know there are others out there that have had a VERY difficult time of things.
I believe art can help.
Art can help anyone in any situation.
Help to grow, to learn, to expand.