First things first. I did not create anything all year.
There. I said it. I feel relieved from my self-imposed guilt. Since when has not creating for art’s sake been a crime or a sin?
I’ve considered changing my blog’s name. I’ve not dwelt in my studio, let alone set foot in this secluded room of my house since last year. I’m almost afraid of seeing all that mishmash of art and scrapbooking supplies. A glaring testament to excess, to indulgence that was left unchecked. But in truth, all that clutter has come to symbolize my disorganized life.
Oh, I will say this much.
My friend and constant companion of fourteen years, THOR, died last February 22nd 2011. I miss your soft paws and your gentle brown eyes, baby.
My mom, with whom I’ve been estranged for more years than I can admit, died last May 12th.
My cousin, Allen, is going through yet another round of chemo.
The kids are alright. They’re acting like typical (translation–obnoxious, moody, hooked on Facebook) teenagers. And maybe, I’m the only one in the world who don’t have perfect teenagers.
El hubby and I are alright. I love coming home to him. He is the only one who can say I’m such a b* and the most difficult person to live with and to figure out and love me anyway. Like he said to me before, he’s in for the long haul.
I wasn’t gonna mention work. That thing that I do 5-6 days a week, twelve hours a day. It really doesn’t sound all that bad! But if I did start writing about work, I will ramble on and on I’m afraid.
In a word–blessed. It’s become clear to me. My work is no longer work. It is a calling. I feel blessed that these children have included me into their lives. I’m not doing anything amazing. But they are. Everytime they’ve completed their first puzzle. Or, when they’ve traced their first shape. Or, when they refuse for the therapy session to end because–well, this I presume–they like to hang out with me.
I thought I was older, and wearier and I couldn’t write.
If I had actually planned it out well enough, I would’ve had more than a few scrapbooking pages to journal about, eh?
Well, along the way, I misplaced myself.