To absorb all the change in my life, I retreat inward. I have become a recluse. I do not see it as a negative. I do not communicate with friends as much. It is to be expected, when considering I am far away from their immediate lives and contact. Many times, I sit at my computer, prepare to compose an email to a friend, to update them on life up here, and then I delete the email.
Or, I hide my mail program and move on to something else. I will look at my phone, my contacts and see who I should reach out to. But then I put my phone back down. I do not see the point in calling someone if the conversation is going to be trivial. I do not want to call friends and tell them everything is fine, or everything is not fine. There is no point in those conversations. Maybe I do not feel like sharing. Maybe I do not feel any one else would relate. So, I do not reach out and neither do some friends.
There are times, I tell myself my friends no longer care about me. But is that really the case? It is selfish to think I am that important to people I have considered friends or have had multiple connections with. It’s alright. I do not mean it to sound as terrible as it does. They have their lives to live, just as I have mine. If I am not someone they feel a need to connect with on a daily/weekly basis, that is fine. My closest friends are the ones I can reach out to after months of not communicating and pick up exactly where we last left off.
I do feel alone, isolated. It is self-inflicted and this is fine. It allows me the time to refocus on who I am, what I am. I have spent so much of my adult life caring about others and caring about their problems, that I completely avoided my life. I ignored my health, until it required action. I even ignored my dreams, my goals, because others needed me (or I thought they did).
My brain is scattered. I cannot focus like I use to. My life needs a restart. I am starting to get better, thanks to my return to painting and sketching. Writing helps too. The process of getting what is in my head out and in to the world is healing me. It eases my mind, and my mind is becoming more clear as a result. After so many years are running around not sure of the direction I should take, things are finally making sense.
It is interesting to see that the art I recently completed reflects how I feel about myself. The palate is dark and somber. A piece I finished this morning is filled with blues, green, a deep, blood red, and purple. The mushrooms, I have painted over the past month, are filled with browns, greens, and blue. I feel that it has to do with my upcoming surgery. What I consider a rotting portion of my body is being removed. While I have not expressed it verbally, the content in my current work definitely is revealing the truth of the matter. The parts of my body I have so strongly not wanted, ever, are finally being removed. It’s going to end a monthly battle of anger, frustration, and what I consider a sick, sick joke. It’s all going away soon, on October 29.
Interesting part of my current art piece is my return to a form I painted, four years ago, when I had my first wake up call that something was amiss. It is the form of a Cycladic head. My first go around, I painted it as I saw it, the face a blank canvas, ready to be what ever I wanted it to be. It was also solid in form. The head I completed today, is not centered on the page, but to the right side, part of it being off the page. The shape itself is open, full of holes, shapes. The shapes remain white as does the background. It looks much darker, but it also feels more expressive.
Instead of painting what I saw in a photograph, I painted what I felt and what I saw in my head. I let my inner self express what it needed to express. Life is full of empty spaces, wanting to be filled. It is up to each person to decide how or if they want to fill that space. For me, at this point in my life, I do not want to fill those empty spaces. They do not need to be filled.