Coming home

Back from the holiday and trying to find some equilibrium  The last day was lovely, wandering about Sydney, a ferry ride under the harbor bridge, chocolates to take home. The flight back was beautiful, we skirted the storm. Clouds lay out beneath the plane like a fresh, wrinkled fleece. Out in the north, massive thunderhead clouds rose like huge anvils into the sky. I spent the entire flight watching them burst with lightning, and writing down ideas for paintings. Inspiration at last.

I haven’t made any art for months. Something is wrong when this happens. I’m poisoned by something in my life, or I’m starving for something I need. Just one day in the rain, free and flying with my heart open filled me with joy and new ideas. I’m not spending enough time in Narnia. Too much grief, too much time in the world. Not enough flying.

Coming home was painful. My house feels, not like a home, but like a trap. My life choices hurt, chafe, cut, bite into skin. Everything is difficult. There is so much I must do and it is all so difficult. On the train from Newcastle, in the tiny sewer-stinking toilet, the old scars on my wrist catch the light and I suddenly want a matching set on my other wrist. Grief catches in my throat. The first day home and working on urgent admin – phone calls, emails, enrolling in tafe classes, I’m three hours in before the sense of self loathing kicks in so strong it’s like a punch to the gut. It’s like coming home to find mental illness waiting for me. My life hurts.

So I take a step back from the edge. I spend time alone. I read. My cat comes and cuddles up to me for the first time in months and it feels like a blessing. I watch the rain. I go and buy big canvases from the art shop, hoping the inspiration wont leave, wont collapse, hoping the strength will stay long enough that I can paint. I move slowly, I’m silent, even in my mind, silent. Letting thoughts flow through me very slowly, very quietly. Waiting in the stillness for the pain and sadness to ease, for the joy to settle. For clarity and hope.

I’m working on a set of blog posts about sex which are important to me but very difficult to write. My blog post about it has reached a few thousand words so I’ve decided to break it up into parts. Some days I can think clearly to write and others I edit and rewrite endlessly. I’ve also been revamping the blog, adding new pages, changing the colour scheme. There’s more to be done but I’m happy with the progress so far. I’m also planning to upgrade the DI website which is painfully out of date. I was too busy to keep up with it last year but I’ve a little window now to get some more work done on it. My facepainting page on my wordpress blog is looking good too, although the rest of that site is mostly empty. It’s all a lot of work. Little bits at a time. 

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