It’s 6 am and I’m up because of the cold humid mist that is shrouding our little mountain home. I grudgingly get up to shut the windows and let the cat in. I crawl back under the covers and close my eyes.
As usual, thoughts begin to swirl around in my brain. An image of my childhood pops into my consciousness. Then a feeling begins to wash over me. Cue audio aaaand action :
- YANIK!!! WHAT are you DOING!?!
- I’m drawing. I respond timidly. A knot forms in the pit of my stomach. I’ve never liked being called out like that.
- Sit DOWN!!! she hollers.
I sit down, embarrassed, and I look at my drawing. I can still hear her shouting and out of the corner of my eye, I can see she has her hands on her hips and a frown on her face. But, I don’t need to look at her. I can feel her energy. All the kids are staring at me. Some of them are smirking, some feel sympathetic… I want to hide under the desk.
I feel guilty. But why? A minute ago, I had been so immersed in my little creation that I hadn’t even realized I was standing. I just remember feeling so happy as I picked the colors and watched my picture come to life. I was making it for my dad and I knew that he would be so proud of me.
She was still shouting. By now, I just wanted to cry. I just sat there with my head down.
All of a sudden, I felt something. An energy shift. I looked up and saw my dad! All I could see was his smiling face in the diamond shaped window on the door.
- Teacher asks: What are you doing?
I was saved! - PAPA! I whispered My kindergarten teacher pivoted to face the door and started babbling sheepishly as my father walked in. He glared at her, his nostrils flaring slightly. I later learned that he had witnessed the whole scene.
- Ah! She stammered, her cheeks crimson. -M. Falardeau, your daughter was standing and blah blah blah.
I didn’t care what she said. I ran over to my dad and hugged him. He picked me up and held me in a protective embrace as the teacher tried to justify her anger towards me. I showed him my drawing. He smiled and hugged me again. Patting my back, he glared at the teacher and informed her that we were going home.
~
The cat jumps on the bed and lies down on my chest. I change positions… feeling impatient. This is ridiculous… it’s 6 am, it’s the last day of our vacation, I should be sleeping in. Why am I thinking of this all of a sudden?
- Get up and draw, I answer myself.
30 years have passed since that day and yet, when I think about it I get the same knot and the same feeling of embarrassment and guilt as I watch the scene unfold in my minds eye. It’s insane to still be affected by that one fleeting moment in kindergarten but on a subconscious level, it has shaped my relationship with my art.
It definitely was a pivotal and defining moment in my life. It was then, that I began to associate guilt and shyness with my artistic expression.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve started an art project and then felt guilty about “wasting time” on it. What am I doing? I should be working. I should be cleaning the house, I should be exercising, I should be reading… what am I doing? I’m just drawing.
Aside from being a mother, being creative is what brings me the most joy. But that joy is always wrapped in either fear. (Am I good enough??) or guilt. ( I could be doing something more productive with my time.)
I know in my heart that it’s time to let go of those heavy negative feelings. It’s time for all of us to let go of our fears. It’s time for me to stand up and express myself. I’ve been trying to do that my entire life. It’s been a tango, one step forward, two steps back. I’m so tired of that dance. I need to set a new tempo.
I only get one chance at life. One chance to exist. One chance to discover who I am and then to let it shine.
So, I’m going to ignore the naysayers and the negativity… (especially when I’m the negative naysayer.) and I’m going for it.
They say life isn’t about how many times you get knocked down. But how many times you get back up.
