Space is a gift

For Christmas last year I was given a book to ‘alter.’ It was a beautifully handmade book with lots of space for me to add to.  The intentions of the maker and the giver came from their hearts to me who was suffering from anxiety and depression. The book was for me, to cheer me, to encourage me and lift effects of such illness. At first, I was delighted with the generous gift and for a while it did cheer me.

Soon, the pristine pages became seemingly untouchable and beyond my reach.

It was then not immediately but gradually that I realised that I had spent far too long, aching to please others and my mother who was particularly difficult and often cruel.

When I retired when I was in a position to please only myself I thought I would be okay and for a while I was in a honeymoon state. However, in time I became the bully, the very one who blighted my working life. Making demands for perfection, high expectation and false hope, striving to make the best, being the best, it was exhausting and not any fun. I was not seeing that if I disregarded the rod of tyranny and applied kindness, I might have found a different way.

The healing process was not immediate there was no divine intervention … recovering from a lifetime of anxiety and depression is not the aim even if it were possible. I had to learn to live beside ‘it’ like a faithful friend and dissuading gently the sadness, anger and fear and the other side effects that can thwart the healing process but sometimes inspire the artist within.

So, I remain truly thankful for that.

So back to the book, as I look at the leaves of perfection and love. It was a gift made by a friend given to me another and they want me to cherish it. Like I would any gift and that was hard. It seemed to represent something unattainable.

I had to find tools and find a place where I could be me.  The muddle minded and skew-whiff person and be happy with that.

So for the next days and weeks and then months I made tentative marks on the each of the pages. Sitting with myself, with pens, pencils, brushes, paint and inks for a few or many minutes each day, I allowed my mind to let go of thoughts whether good or bad as if I were meditating and utilise the energy that ensued to add shapes and colour. It has been a long slow process and not always joyful and it isn’t finished yet …. but it has proved to be a perfect gift … Thank you