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I Am an Artist

Innocence Tarot The Fool

October Writing Challenge: Writing the Wisdom of Your Soul

Innoncence The Fool

Day #1 The Fool

I am an Artist.

For as far back as I can remember, my happy contained crayons and pencils, fabric, glue and found objects.

Long before I was the big sister, the mom, the wife, I was the artist.

I thought when I had children I had to put away childish things and so my colors and crafts were replaced with practical mediums.

I thought everything I did had to have function and purpose and look like it came out of a department store catalog.

I locked away a part of my soul when I packed up my happy.

It was an amazing revelation the day I went to my little sister's high school art show. Something in her painting collage popped open the locked door where I kept my happy.

I am an Artist.

She was good, but so was I. Her work was moving and so was mine.

What was I thinking?

Why did I think I wasn't worthy enough to do what I loved?

How could I possibly recover those five long painful years without art?

How could I convince my husband's family that I was valuable even if my craft wasn't functional?

Actually I didn't think that. I kept trying to blend art and function and failing under the critical eye of my mother-in-law.

It took a divorce and many years to clear out that closet and get the creativity flowing freely.

It's taken me years to find and fall in love with 'my style'.

My signature.

The 'look' that is only mine.

I look back at that journey and my heart aches for the young mother who thought she wasn't worthy of happiness, who thought she couldn't be who she was.

I cry for the beautiful soul who thought she had to choose between herself and her children. Who offered the ultimate sacrifice.

Sometimes, I go back there and hug the poor little girl, I lift her chin and hold her hand and tell her, "Come on, follow me"

I lead her to our Now. I take her to the boutiques and the galleries where our dolls are on display. I show her the invoices and shipping labels.

I take her home and show her our house and our studio and our happy family.

I show her that we have learned to run a household and a business, that we have succeeded at being a good Mom and an Artist.

She cries. I do too. I hold her hand and we heal.

Have you hugged your younger self, lately?

I promise, what ever mistakes you made, whatever pain you suffered, you were doing the best you could at the time.

Show yourself a little compassion!

Love and kisses

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