Tuesday, July 5, 2011
A random tidbit about me, I'm a complete art junkie. There are few things that can replace the joy that I have by going to an art museum and spending hours looking at AMAZING works. From Matisse, Van Gogh, Renoir, Valencia Johnson, Grant Wood, and Jackson Pollock, I thrive off of seeing these amazing works of art. However, I don't have the opportunity to spend the time with my favorite artists like I used to.
While pregnant I couldn't wait for my daughter to be born, and for the two of us to go walking around the St. Louis' Art Museum together. As a matter of fact, I imagined a lot of things would happen after I had my daughter. I imagined that I would have a painless natural birth (meaning that I would be hopped up on any and all pain killers that they stuck in my IV), and once my daughter came out, the doctor would hand her over to my husband, and the three of us (me, with the body I had BEFORE the pregnancy) would look wistfully up in the sky as a light came shining down on us, encompassing us in our new family joy. Now, I'm not sure if this vision came from the drugs that was given to me to prepare me for my c-section, or maybe I had visions of Norman Rockwell happy family paintings dancing in my head, but it was a nice dream.
However, after my c-section, and the small shaking fit I had afterwards, I was taken into reality when nothing was how I had envisioned it. In life, we're sold an imagine of fantasy that can really set us up for failure. Like the still lives in the paintings I love, I failed to remember that these works were just a venue for the artists to express how they wish the world was, or how they interpreted it to be. Each vision is not necessarily a reality; and like the precious veneer of my favorite paintings, if not handled correctly, my fantasies of marriage and parenthood began to expose some cracks.
As I've gotten better at being able to accept my reality, and puddy up the holes in my new life, I've been able to pick up the paintbrush myself and decided to shape and mold my own vision of how I would like my life to be. I might not ever be able to dance in a meadow like Renoir's sisters, or dip my feet and play in Monet's water lilies, but I succeed in the portrait that I have drawn for myself.
This week, let's discuss!!