There is a Place I belong, there are people who understand me

Yesterday was the longest amount of time I’ve been away from the babies since they’ve been born. I left my house at 11Am and returned home at 7PM. As I drove east a smoky haze covered the sky falling down and touching the horizon line. The pollution layered my already dissatisfied mood with a touch of depression. I had been looking forward to doing the Rhythm and Presence workshop for months. The first time I signed up I wasn’t able to go because the babies were still babies and that got in my way. This time nothing was going to stop me, my own mind tried. It told me, after my friend said he wasn’t coming along because he was sick, “You’re too tired too, you should go hide, watch a movie, you shouldn’t be around people.” I told my mind to “SHUT UP!” and I got in my car and started to drive in the direction of the workshop. Insecurities crept in along the way, I historically have problems working in front of other people. But the way this workshop was set up overcame that obstacle with “ice breaker” exercises that really got me feeling relaxed and comfortable. I worked like a crazy person, painting, collaging, working with Carl and Heather, learning as much as I could from them. I got to work for around five glorious hours straight. It was fantastic, and depressing at the same time. I finally felt like myself again, I was working, I was in an amazing Art Center, surrounded by wonderful artists. On my way down I started to think I needed anti-depressants again because I’ve been feeling myself sinking deeper into my anti-social self. But once I arrived at the workshop I was fine. I was myself again, all the discontent of the weeks prior slipped out of my system. The paper, paint, chalk and charcoal in my hands expressing ideas to me. The glues bonding pieces, turning one thing into another without a plan, just a direction to go in and a surprise waiting to reveal itself. I needed that, to work with other artists, to remind myself there is a place I belong.


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Thoughts on Motherhood Through the Eyes of an Artist