Personal journal 01.20.2017

      I sit and stare at the screen with frustration in my heart. One piece of artwork continues to elude finishing. It is one I have done over and over until my heart hurts, my spirit hurts, my hands hurt from the work. Sketch after sketch and I really do not even know why I keep pursuing this one piece. It is not dissimilar to the vision inside my mind from my 20’s which will not leave me. No matter what I have been through it is there taunting me until I sketch it again and again. Now there is this new one and I have no clear understanding of why it is this way yet again with a very different piece.      My mind continues to nudge me to create this piece and I keep attempting to escape it’s touch. This is not unlike those moments when people in public touch me and invade my space. I want to run and yet I will myself to stay in place, to smile instead of moving into a protective stance.

      Not long ago I was at an art event and for once was enjoying the company I was with. I stood looking at a painting which intrigued me as a group of people crowded past. As the group passed I felt a hand very deliberately pass across the top of my buttocks and slip down. This astonished me in that I had previously believed this type of behavior was no longer going to happen. I’ve taken a stand, several years ago against this type of behavior and yet right there in the middle of an enjoyable moment? There it was, stealing away the joy I felt and ever since I’ve not been comfortable going to any other similar events.

      I want to, I need to go to more public events and yet I still feel this ‘thing’ inside me holding me back. Not fear, most would think it is fear. It is this other ‘thing’ the one of being made to feel as if I am only an object to touch, to ridicule, to try and get close to and it is this ‘thing’ I buck against. I want to be free of this and yet this ‘thing’ pursues me constantly in the most unexpected places.

      It is the one which says I have no say in who touches my body or comes into my space. It is the ‘thing’ which says I am nothing but an object to own, to use and to discard at will because I have no worth.

      When did the world circle back to this place? I had really thought all the incredible moments which had brought about so much change were here to stay.

 

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