Thursday May 14, 2009

Just got back from my drawing course. What a great experience. It turns out, a friend of mine as original painting she bought years back, from the artist-instructor for my course! What a small world...I've admired that painting for years and here I am learning from the artist himself. Tonight we were working from a live model. I forgot how tiring drawing for three hours can be!

Before going to class, I dropped by the hospital to visit my father. He was sitting up, which hasn't happened for about a month. I'm feeling hopeful. He's a two bouts with c-difficile - which is a highly contagious bacterial infection people get in hospitals. The first time he got it, he was sent from the rehab hospital to emerg in our local hospital. It turned out he had also had a heart attack. Things just seemed to spin out of control within a very short period of time. Since then, he's been in isolation, which is really, really difficult on him. I was sharing the visiting with my daughter, but she's started her work term and isn't available to visit him...so, it's up to me to visit every night. I get there around 5 or 5:30 and sit with him until his dinner arrives, then I feed him, wash his hands, face and teeth, and get him ready for sleep, then I go home. So my life right now is work-hospital-home-sleep, work-hospital-home-sleep, and so on.

The differences from nurse to nurse is amazing. One time I got there after the food arrived. When I walked into the room, after getting dressed in the isolation gear you have to put on, there was a nurse standing beside his bed with one hand on her hip, the other hand holding a spoon of food in front of my father, and my father's face covered in food. I could not believe my eyes. I quickly dismissed her. Cleaned him up, fed him. Got him ready for bed. Then went straight to complain. Since then, I have not missed a dinner, and haven't seen anything so dispassionate again. Now...I'm hoping and praying the meals (breakfast and lunch) that the nurses DO feed him, go a bit better than what I witnessed.

It sucks being an only child, the responsibility and burden is incredible. Trying to care for a parent, as well as caring for your family...and trying to squeeze out time for yourself is an almost impossible task. I'm not doing anything well and I feel bad all the time. That's why I abandoned all the exercise and "fun" stuff I did. BUT, with this drawing course, I'm trying to get myself back on track and try to care for myself too.

12 Secrets - Chapter 1 - Acknowledging Your Creative Self

My earliest memories of considering my own future were from when I was about 4 or 5 years old. I would pretend I was a math professor. Why? Probably because my father kept calling my his little "professor". I knew enough that a professor was a teacher, so that's what a lot of my pretend play was....that and dreams of being a fashion designer. My mother was a seamstress and worked as a home-sewer. She would get big boxes of apron-pieces delivered to our home and sew them for pay by piecework. I was about 4 when she taught me to sew. We sat at her industrial sewing machine with me in her lap and, while she worked the foot pedal, I fed the fabric through the presser foot. I remember how thrilling it was to take two pieces of fabric and make one thing out them! My mother sewed all my Barbie clothes until I was able to sew my own. My mother told me that the first time she realized I was sewing on my own was when she noticed a button crudely sewn on to my sweater. The button was crudely sewn on with different coloured thread. She asked my father if he had sewn it on, and he said he hadn't, that's when she realized I had done it - I was in kindergarten.

I have such wonderful memories sewing. As a teenager, I made my formal clothes - dresses for weddings, dances, and other similar events. As a working woman in my twenties, I made many of my work wear - suits, skirts, pants, shirts. When I was pregnant, I made many of my maternity wear and when I had my kids, I sewed their play clothes, coats, Sunday clothes, etc. I also enjoy quilt-making, applique, embroidery and needlepoint. My mother taught me to knit when I was about 8 and my aunt taught me to crochet and I have been enjoying both since.

In school, I loved art and started to show real promise by grade 7. I was particularly interested in portraiture and did many detailed portraits, in pencil, of celebrities I was "in crush" with. Unfortunately, I have none of the art from those years as my art teacher kept them for her portfolio. Little did I know what they would mean to me in my later years. I do have my sketch book from my senior year in high school, but everything before that was thrown out (my mom was a bit of a clean freak). I loved drawing! In grade 13, I was focused on going to art school to become a commercial artist. My parents did not support this idea, as they did not see a future - meaning, how would I make money to support myself? This didn't bother me as much as one of my art teacher's comments (which would prove to be the negative voice I still hear in the back of my mind) - she said "Lillian, you couldn't be a commercial artist because you are not confident enough." I wasn't but hearing it from a person in authority sealed the deal for me. I was so devastated.

Since then, I have not stopped creating - through needle-crafts, writing, living, and exploring - but every time I think about living a more fully creative life, I stop. I have enjoyed the journey of Soul Coaching and looked forward to 12 Secrets, but as I was reading Chapter 1 and reflecting on my own life - challenges and successes, I kept thinking "how can I change my life when I have all these responsibilities and commitments?" It's almost like staring at a blank canvas.

Like many of you, I have fibromyalgia. I was diagnosed at 32 and have been living a full-life by focusing on my nutrition and exercise - truly the only things that have really helped me (as medications were a real fiasco). I am 50 years old and I am still pursuing a dream...isn't it too late? Shouldn't I just forget about it and honour all the gifts that I have been given? Can I live with that deep sadness about never have pursued my passion? Is it even still my passion? And the most important question, what if I figure it all out and still can't actually DO anything about it?!?!