Today I am grateful for my life. We’ve all had periods in our life when we felt like we were swimming upstream against a current that pulled us away from what we really wanted to be doing. What we felt we should be doing.
Maybe your career took an unexpected and unpleasant turn. Maybe your family situation turned into something disturbing. Maybe friends disappointed you, or betrayed your trust. Maybe you need to put all of your hopes and dreams in a drawer in order to survive. Maybe you are in a job where the only consolation is benefits. Maybe you wonder if you will ever pull out of the muck and do what you know you were meant to do.
Maybe it’s quilting or designing clothes. Maybe it’s knitting or crocheting. Maybe it’s gardening or raising animals. Maybe you want to play piano or sing. Maybe you want to sculpt or paint. Maybe you want to write. Maybe you want to join groups and be on committees but you can’t because all of your energy is used up doing what you have to do. I get it. I spent a lot of time there. A lot of time. I know what it feels like to have drawers full of dreams that you can’t let yourself open because it will hurt too much when you have to close them again. Hang in there. It will get better. I promise.
I started a new painting the other day. Since I now have the easel in a permanent position in the sunroom, I just got a little water, sat down and started. The light coming in the windows was perfect. I set the TV to play tunes from Broadway and Film. I was in heaven.
Each time I start a painting I’m nervous because I have no clue what I’m doing. Then, like a long distance runner, I find my stride and just go with the flow. . .get out of my own way. This painting is not big, but it is a lot of straight lines and somewhat out of my comfort zone. I was struggling and focusing on a particular section, certain I was screwing it up. Then I stepped away. I came back later and sat in front of it again.
That’s where John found me bawling like a baby. He didn’t even ask why. He knew. “You nailed it, didn’t you?” He said. I nodded. “I’m just so happy with my life right now,” I blubbered. “I know we don’t have a lot of money, but I write every single day and I can sit down and paint whenever I want to! For the first time in a very, very long time I feel like I am living as my genuine self. I feel wealthy beyond my wildest dreams and I am so very grateful!” He smiled and turned away. The card-carrying curmudgeon would not want me to see that tear creeping down his own cheek.