This painting is small. Reminds me of a strange music note, but I have no title idea so ‘strange music note’ may just stick.
Below is a poem/song I wrote touching on a personal matter I rarely acknowledge that has a place in old, very deep fears. This in particular is about memories in childhood and how I thought my art was and is perceived by my mother and other close relations. How my only worth seemed to come from colors I put to paper. Nothing much else ever really being noticed.
Another picture, for you.
Such a pretty picture,
I knew you would say.
Hasn’t it always been this way?
By these simple painted shades
There is still your smile I can save.
And it’s okay with me
If the heavy lines of drawn eyes are
The only ones to make you see my own
With their pain.
You will understand this all someday.
In your own time, in your own way.
When I leave, you will know
I tried my best.
And the pictures I leave behind
Will save you, dear mother
And the devastating news I got this week: my therapist of nearly 5 years will be retiring in April. Great news for him and I tried my best to smile and said my congratulations, but really I felt an awful hurt swell within. He told me this news right before I was set to hand over a small gift. A cd of a few songs linked back to discussions in my therapy sessions over the years, and one new song dedicated specifically to him about my gratitude. So not only was I sinking fast over the fact I’ll be out on my own again and have to start with someone else, I felt foolish and ashamed I did not see it coming sooner. The past two days have been spent with teary eyes and a lifeless feeling inside.
The only thing I’m appreciative about knowing what I know now is that I will be able to say goodbye…He’s helped me further along than anyone else and I wouldn’t change anything at all if it were my choice. I will miss very having such a safe person and place to turn to.