A week ago I almost fell way, way backwards. Not physically, but emotionally. I still don’t know entirely what triggered it, and I don’t know that I’m entirely past it.
Last week, in yoga class, I was overwhelmed by sadness and frustration. I’ve been off and on sick for almost a month, and I wasn’t doing well in class, and it was just more than I could handle. Then I had the opportunity to go home, and I took it, and the next day I just couldn’t.
…go to work. …think. …get out of bed.
Funny thing is, turns out the college ended up being closed because of a power outage, so thankfully I didn’t miss too much.
I got turned around by a painting experience. C worked out a deal with an artist friend to help design and paint our front room, kitchen, and/or hall. They spent a couple of days last week with paper and crayons, brainstorming ideas, and then presented me with the final drawings and some paint chips. Saturday we picked paint, and then the rest of the weekend she & I painted.
First of all, the results so far are beautiful. Words don’t capture it at all: periwinkle, butter, red; the Japanese floating-cloud shape. Even the cheap green curtains we have look extra exotic now. There will be photos, later.
But also it was a great learning experience. L is impressively meticulous, both in taking care of her tools and in the actual painting. I’ve never seen anyone paint a perfectly straight line on a wall before! More to the point for me, I could learn quietly by watching, with occasional direct tips.
All of which gave me a sense of self-confidence in addition to the total joy of beauty.
And then the cold dry snap broke, so I didn’t feel like my whole face was going to flake off or implode.
Which is by way of saying that I’m feeling better. Not all the way there, but better.
Y’know, I feel even better for having written all that down.