For the most part these are not things he directly told me I had to do. But, as a friend of mine told me early these things are what addicts and alcoholics do. I wonder though, if they always do it conscientiously. This will be a three part series. I will name the thing I gave up, how it was lead away from me and how I am gaining it back.
1. My independence.
I was once a very independent girl, woman or what have you. I lived on my own and worked at a young age. I joined the military before I graduated and left everything I knew behind without a second thought. Never, asked for help and made sure I could find a way to make my way. I could go and do things alone without a second thought.
Over the years I was slowly lead to believe I could not do much without his help. From doing laundry to cleaning house, from changing a tire to painting walls, it was all things he had to do for me, and complain about it.
I am fighting to get that back. Being co-dependent is a hard habit to break and frankly quite ridiculous.
2. Consistent Creative Writing
This is something I have always loved to do. Ever since I could form a written sentence I would write. From short stories to really bad poetry, I was always writing. For much of my youth and into my early 20's I was known for carrying a notebook and a writing instrument of some sort, recording thoughts and feelings.
I guess over the years I have become weak minded and took too much from little comments. Comments about my grammar and the silliness of such things, scoffs and looks of disappointment on his face, read to me that it was foolish to pursue such things. I think the worse is when a notebook of mine was taken over by him for his own unfinished writings.
Last year I picked it up again at the encouragement of a friend I had reconnected with. I have made a promise to myself to free write and I use my writings for various things. Besides this blog, I write about music and review books, that combines other passions with my passion for writing.
I was never an amazing painter, nor was I ever given a blue ribbon at a fair but, I loved painting. Mostly I did acrylic paintings but, oils is where my heart feels joy. Mixing of colors and texture upon the gritty canvas brought such music and release to my soul. I took this up when I took art at my first high school. I continued on mostly with acrylics after I graduated and even, did some watercolors when I was in the Marines. Color makes me happy, it may sound ridiclous to some, but it's a mood lifter.
I stopped painting quite some time ago for various reasons of my own. A few years back my dad cleaned out the locker in his garage. There were treasures to be found, hidden on the bottom of it water damaged the colors were still vibrant. There they were given to me...canvases from my days as a teenage artist (or so I fancied myself). This brought back some spirit in me, a new kindling of an old love so to speak. I talked my way into an oil set and he bought me it and two small canvases.
I put on some hand me down jeans I cut into shorts, I didn't want oils on my dresses. I closed my eyes and I saw a big lush tree on a moon and starlit hill....I painted it. I spent a few days getting the colors and textures just right. When I was finished I got a blank stare and when I asked to purchase more canvases, I was told money was short...but, we bought beer.
With the new year on the horizon I am going to put money aside for things like this. Not just for me but, for my kids. No need for passions to sit silently in ones heart.
to be continued.....