Vulnerable

I've often spoken easily with Dave or friends or my sisters about the parts of my relationship with Mom that weren't straightforward, and I've been wanting to put some of that complication into a painting, but I'm surprised at how contracted and vulnerable I feel each time I think about actually starting.

Commit the feelings to paint? I shrink back instantly.

That said, I acknowledge my recurring self-protective resistance and head to my studio anyway.

I pick up a brush. The brush is a gateway. I shift reflexively into painting mind, into an open, neutral space. I find myself all in—with color, texture, decision-making, and the physical and sensory activity. No hesitation, no uncomfortable feelings.

Whew!

But, now.

Contracted and vulnerable again.

Here's what's at stake. I didn't always feel worthy of love and belonging when I was with Mom—I scrambled for her love and defended myself over and over again against the possibility that I wouldn't feel it.

Guess I'm still scrambling, aren't I, Mom!

But.

I've painted this painting. Written these words. Now I'm posting. All is well.

Self-Defense
10x8", mixed media on watercolor paper
abstract
2015
$80