April Showers Bring May Flowers

It’s been a war, a battle and I lay my down my swords. I am tired. A life of fighting to stand upright has worn me out. I want to live in peace and mostly I do except when that ‘little girl’ takes over. And she recently did, pouting for two days, not talking to my partner, not even my sons. And though it didn’t seem like a choice, it’s a choice.

The pain hurts so much I fall back on my earlier defenses, way back to when I was a girl, adolescent, teen, young women, and even now, later middle age…pouting. I’ll show you. You hurt me? Well take this. I won’t talk or even look at you.

But the person hurt most is myself. Although I think I also hurt my husband deeply by my behavior which only makes me feel worse. How does one let those around her know that she expects better treatment when for all the time they’ve known her she hasn’t expected it? I have changed but others don’t notice. And I’m not easing them gently into new patterns of interacting with me.

My latest project made me realize, there is beauty inside fluttering to escape. Though April has been harder than all of winter, the Bejeweled Butterfly is proof than more than seriousness or ‘life and death’ situations reside inside. I have fun and laughter and life. My little studio is a conduit to that place deep down below all the other stuff, a straight path to the soul. I love to see what comes up and out. There’s beauty and love, caring and compassion, for myself and others.

I try not to beat myself up for my two days of pouting and retreating from my most beloved ones. When my ‘little girl’ takes over, it cause more grief and pain. How could it not? She is stuck there. And I need to guide her with love and tenderness. ‘No, that’s not OK, Come on, we will do it this way,’ the voice of a 62 year old woman in control. I tell her, ‘Go back to sleep,’ that is not worth worrying about. (Doesn’t always work, but I’m making progress. I still watch middle of the night programs while I wait for a sleep aid to work, checking the blogging world during the hour it takes to become effective)

So I  work at moving past what I call unacceptable behavior. During my laps in the meadow I remember, it’s being a wife, friend, mother and grand-mother that counts, how to the best at all of those, that’s what matters. Not how I am treated, but how I treat others. Because when I lay my head down on my pillow at night, it’s how I responded to stimuli throughout my day. Did I do so with grace and kindness? That also includes giving myself the right to have angry feelings and expressing them, but in a way others can hear it without being leveled. And erecting boundaries, but ones that still allow sunshine, breeze and safe interactions. It’s about living with my opinion of me and how I act, not what others think about me or how others act. I don’t control that, I control only me, or try to.

The Collection 

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7 thoughts on “April Showers Bring May Flowers

  1. Oh how well I know life as it is when the little girl takes over. This 55 year old woman has not really grown up on the inside. When the little girl takes over, I fear abandonment more than anything, and often react accordingly when a situation comes up, like when my therapist was sick a few months ago, and it seemed to that little girl that she was abandoning me, that it was me she was letting go of. Needless to say, I don’t know how old that little girl is, or if she ever will catch up with me, but my therapist has been looking at some of my old photos, making observations, and using art therapy to try and reach the little girl, and comfort her.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. It’s been a while since I intentionally did any work at recognizing the little girl inside, especially as it relates to how I interact with other people. I’m not sure why, but your post had me thinking about a time when I was in therapy many years ago, and it was the first time I finally understood about the truth of the little girl inside, and why it’s important to not only be aware and acknowledge her existence, but to also be aware of when we’re reverting to automatically interacting with the world on that level. That day, oh so many years ago, (when I was in my thirties), I remember finally understanding how crucial it was to nurture that tender and fragile spirit inside. I felt such compassion and pain for how she had been hurt. It was one of those breakthrough moments, and even though I sometimes lose sight of her these days, in my late fifties, she’s still there.

    This is the first time I realized, by the way, that your butterfly series is three-dimensional, in that each of them have some element that is texturally or physically elevated. I especially love how you incorporated the delicate feathers against the bits of stone or mosaic tiles. The more I study them, the more I appreciate them. Very nicely done. Delicate, and strong. Vibrant, yet quiet, too. Nice.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I wanted to also add how much I like the contrasts you noted; delicate/strong, vibrant yet quiet. I roll the tiles out by hand with a rolling pin, brush on glaze, and fire in the kiln.
      As far as the younger version of myself, I’d rather look at the whole and not feel divided yet am still learning how to accept ‘her’ and fully understand the challenges ‘she’ faced; congratulate ‘her’ and stop the negative bashing which comes more naturally than self acceptance. That work is ongoing.
      Thank you again for your comment.

      Liked by 1 person

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