Sometimes I just have to sit back and reflect...I think back to where I was and who I was to where I am and who I am becoming. I say "becoming" because even at the age of 39 I am still growing, developing...morphing! I don't know that I'd ever be ready to say it's time to grow up and stop enjoying life the way I do now...I think I like jumping in mud puddles way too much.
It wasn't always good though, and I'd be lying if I said my life was or is perfect but I have learned that it is best to make do with the life you have...add glitz, glitter and grunge if you want to personalise it of course.
Looking back...I have had dozens of jobs over the years and it feels like I have lived a dozen lives. Some were good...some were not. I've been in violent relationships that left me scarred both physically and emotionally, afraid of people and totally messed up. My life is what I allowed it to be...now I am not taking all the blame for the broken bones, bruises and shattered soul, but I know that I could have escaped but chose not to. I pity the old me, but that is the past and I can't change it and wouldn't because "all roads lead to here".
I think back on the medications I was on to control my violent mood swings, I remember a point in my life when I thought the world would be so much better off without me...I felt worthless, useless, pathetic, crushed and broken...I tried to kill myself.
I won't go into details of what I tried because it's not important, what is important is the direction I took from there. I chose to live, I chose art.
I had always loved creativity and self expression and I tried alot of different things, hobbies, interests, etc.
In hospital I wrote poetry and sketched with a tiny piece of charcoal. At first my words and images were dark and sorrowful but slowly they began to show light and life, they showed what was inside of me trying to break free...like a moth from a cocoon. At the end of my three month "stay" I was smiling and painting with pastels and my poetry was about the colours in life.
My creative style has changed so much since then and I know it will continue to do so as my tattered moth wings unfurl and strengthen.
Art has been my saviour, it has helped me to see the beauty in things, it has shown me that there is good in the world. Even when bad things happen.
I look at my hands, they are my tools, they are also an extension to my expression...I use my hands to emphasise my thoughts and feelings. I love my hands.
*small pink orb
*large pink orb
*blue aura
*tiny blue orb next to pink orb
*NOTE* these are photos of my hands taken about half an hour before I posted this, they have not been edited in any way, my shirt is black and grey only. The photos were taken by myself with a time delay on my camera, I could not see the positioning of my hands as I was in front of the camera. If you believe in orbs, you will find these images interesting.
