This is a little something I wrote in April of 2009, thought I’d share:

as a result of the trauma this past summer, every day i feel pain, sadness and fear. sometimes it’s overwhelming, making me unable to get out of bed, maintain a regular heartbeat, eat, or sleep. fortunately, those times are rare ov late. most of the time it’s just a feeling that lies mostly dormant under the skin, deep down in my chest. but it’s always there.

i try not to let it affect how i interract with the world. i’m able to find many joys in family and friends. music and books. i sing with my kids, i say my zikr, i dream, i cuddle, i gaze out the window and marvel at the green shoots braving the snow. but it feels as though these are just layers on top of the sadness, and that if you look just a little deeper, scratch away the surface, all the hurt comes up.

for awhile it felt as though my hurt was the canvas, and all of my pleasant experiences were just paint on it, covering it up for awhile, but no matter how thick i threw it on, no matter how many layers were applied, the canvas would still be there, lying underneath, unchanging and full of pain.

but this morning i came to realize that that trauma and all the insecurities and deceptions and abuse and fear and depression and… everything that came with it is also just a layer. it is not the canvas. deeper down underneath there’s a core of me that is the foundation, the base. G*d and i live there. all these experiences and relationships -painful and joyous- add to the work of art that is me. add depth. texture. colour. shadows and light.

i am not my pain. i am not my joy. one aspect may dominate and become a focal point for awhile, but they are just part of the big picture, the ongoing piece of art that is me.

some may some may find it lovely, others hideous. heck, some may not even acknowledge that it’s art, look and think “i could have painted that, and would’ve done it better”. but gosh darnit, i think it’s beautiful. i’d hang me on the wall.

what kind of art are you?