Works Of Art
Slowly bringing pieces of my past into life after divorce.
I’ve lived in my apartment for almost two years yet in every room I still have artwork leaning against the wall waiting to be hung. I am still not ready.
When I left our marital home of twenty years these pieces came with me, as did the memories they hold within them. I love every one of these sketches and paintings. Countless hours have been spent studying their details while sipping coffee in the early mornings or enjoying wine in quiet moments of the evenings over the years. I thought I would find comfort in bringing them into my new space, but instead I feel sadness.
In grief we are encouraged to sit within our heartache and feel all of the feels that arise. There is power in doing so. I’ve considered bypassing the pain to push through and display the artwork in spots where I won’t often see them but my loft is very small. (The inside of my closet crossed my mind!) I have thought about putting them in storage and I’ve considered taking them back to the house where my ex-husband still lives. That all feels like escape. I know better, and if there is one thing I know for sure it is that there is no fast tracking a healing journey. Avoidance is a dangerously easy avenue to take. These works of art tell stories of my life that need to be brought along on the ride to my next chapter but doing so is hard.
Images that once brought me joy are now difficult to look at, yet still I need them to be in sight.
The emotions these pieces evoke because of all that is embedded within them allows for reflection, and in that there is stillness – an essential part of healing for me. Each time I notice them, I am reminded that grief does not have a timeline. Some would say two years is too long to have bare walls or to be sitting in the heartbreak of memories, but for me it has not yet been long enough. This art is a form of measurement, allowing me to see how far I have come and how much healing there is still to do ahead. The road is long, but steady I am.
The pictures lean against my blank apartment walls, resting on the floorboards where I will keep sweeping and mopping around them each week. Someday I hope to put them on display again and I’ll continue to talk about their beauty in the meantime, even if I can’t bear to study them these days.
It is said that a picture is worth a thousand words, but the stories within them, of both joy and sadness in my life, exceed that count.
I felt this 🩶
You'll know when you are ready. Until then, they are in the buffer zone between the old and the new. You've made good progress to even have them out. If they are too painful to hang maybe treat yourself to one new picture that you can hang and will give you something pretty to look at. A picture that you took? Maybe the ones of you and your sons or your friends. Of happier times. Or maybe something from nature to help ground you and give you peace. Your heart will know what's right.