Crying out for freedom
I was an artist, a career I fell into because I believed I wasn’t good at anything else, (communicating and being deeply intuitive wasn’t quite appreciated in school) and while I loved to paint and especially draw, I never felt I was good enough to really make it as an artist. And this thought became my reality.
I had been married at 25, had my first child at 28, my last at 41, and had never been anywhere or done anything special that required me to be brave on my own. My head and heart were crying out for freedom! I was about to have an exhibition, that I had no new work for and I just felt so broken, exhausted and consumed with sadness, I couldn’t begin to lift a paintbrush much less actually create something of beauty.