It was only a few short days ago I wrote about how incredibly happy I felt. I know depression will likely be in my future (since I’ve been dealing with it my whole life) but I’m grateful to say it’s not back yet. What has returned, however, is a pretty intense melancholy.
If you’ve been reading any of my posts from over the past week, then you know I’ve been missing someone very much: my ex boyfriend. Today marks a year since that amazing night we took a walk in the dark and hiked through the trail across the street from my home. A year since our first kiss. A year since we decided to be together, and a year since we shared how long those feelings had been present for both of us.
Assuming you haven’t been reading my blog, my heart was broken pretty bad by my ex husband. We had been together about thirteen years, and it ended after a lot of continued deception. It took a lot to love again, and unfortunately, it didn’t end well with my ex boyfriend, either. We got together a month and a day after my divorce was final, and it only lasted five months. We’d been friends for a few years and I thought I knew him pretty well, so that made it even harder. I’ve written about that at length in previous posts so I won’t go there again.
The loss has been hitting me pretty hard lately and I think this is for a couple reasons. I’ve been doing a lot better emotionally. Passion about mental health issues was something we shared, and we admittedly both struggled while we were together. I want so much to share with him how much better I’m doing. I feel like so many things could be so much different…assuming he’s also doing better.
There’s also the obvious anniversary. We got together a year ago today, and of course, Valentine’s Day is tomorrow. Valentine’s Day rubs all that shit in. I realize it’s just another hallmark holiday, and my ex husband and I always saw it as that. We still used it as another excuse to do something romantic together. I thought I’d spend last Valentine’s Day as the first that I was single since the age of 16…but no, this year is the year I’ll be doing that. Valentine’s two years ago was somewhat painful, our marriage was on the edge but I still had a tiny bit of hope. We split in March. So it’s a painful time of year for a couple reasons.
Tomorrow is my last day of PTO, back to work on Thursday. I’ve been trying to figure out how to spend the day. It’s still a little up in the air, but I can at least speak to today.
I was really, really feeling the pain all day. I felt like I could burst into tears at any moment but I just wasn’t quite there yet. I finally cried a little on my way home from the store.
Speaking of the store, I bought myself a few small things as a gesture of self-care. All the Valentine’s stuff was out, so I figured what the hell. I got myself a tiny purple rose plant. The flowers it has are dying and I figured it was the least likely to be bought for that reason, but it has plenty of buds and I like purple. I also got myself a candle, sushi, and a beer. Small, small gestures to self-soothe I suppose.
I also decided to finish up an oil pastel I’ve been working on for a bit. It’s the first time I’ve actually used a step-by-step guide (from Pinterest) for my art. Usually I just make shit up. I’ve been putting off finishing this one because I wasn’t sure if it would look nearly as cool as the guide. It doesn’t, but it’s still decent. I got really excited while finishing it, and that was really what I needed to help my mood. Art is incredibly therapeutic, and this was more evidence of how much it helps me.
If you’re curious, here’s what I did: https://instagram.com/p/BfKNaHaABHJ/
I want to make a point to you all by sharing this (and my other art if you browse through my instagram). A lot of people look at what I do and pretty consistently respond by saying (about themselves), “I’m not that artistic” or “I’ve never been good at art.”
You know what? I HATED art class in middle school. Absolutely fucking hated it. Looking back I think I understand why. I didn’t have the patience for it. I didn’t understand what I was doing. And maybe most importantly, I was too busy comparing my work to everyone else’s work. Every single one of us that makes art is very quick to criticize ourselves, but if we saw someone else do the same thing we might think it’s great. Comparison is awful for our creativity. The only way it’s good (as said by a friend and coworker who also paints) is that we can learn from what someone else is doing. He’s got a good point. That’s really the one good purpose comparison serves.
I say that for all of you out there who say the thing I once said: “I’m not artistic”. You’ve got an inner artist, believe me. Stop hiding them and try something new. Write, dance, paint, draw, sing, play an instrument, burn images into wood, cook, do interior decorating, cross stitch, knit, crochet, etc etc. You’re artistic. It took me until now at the age of 31 to realize I can paint and use oil pastels. It’s random, but here I am. And it’s incredibly therapeutic. If you pick an art but don’t know how to get started, watch some videos on YouTube or hop on Pinterest. You’ll have a basic idea of techniques and some ideas for what to create in no time.
My art and all the little self-care gestures I mentioned in this post might not heal my aching heart. But it sure will help soothe the pain a little, and maybe even bring a smile to my face. I know it can do the same for you. Shout out to the people hurting this time of year, we’re not alone…even if we feel that way. Much love to you all, and thanks as always for stopping by.
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