Tracks of my life

Mom does a good job at not complaining about the 'tracks of my life' left around the house.  She will generally allow me to take my time to do the dishes without rolling into the kitchen to tackle the job herself.  She is relieved that the dirty clothes don't leak out of my bedroom, but rarely mentions it.  There are clumps of me here and there:  bags of things that follow me home from work; opened envelopes which I don't feel like dealing with right now.  It is a kindness on her part to not treat this woman as a teenager.  I am sure she has had to bite her tongue frequently.

I have spent so many years in this house which is settled around mom and dad, no room for the many years of my memories or creative inclinations without feeling like I am encroaching on their space.  Sublimating,  no space to 'do my own thing' outside of my room -- which has no room for creativity, I have allowed my creative side to decay.

At some point I realized I was going slowly insane.  Sadly, I don't think I am overstating my mental frame of mind too much.  So the solution was to pick up with something I have always wanted to do, because after all, I live here too.  Never mind the mess because, well, I live here too.

We compromised (unspoken) with me using the dining room.  Truly the last time it was used for anything was jigsaw puzzles, which we lost heart over after Dad died.  That was what I would put out to try and keep his mind active.  A bonus for it was Mom would do them too.  It got her away from the TV, away from the computer.  But it has been a couple of years since we attempted one of those.

I love to paint, to create.  So I dived in with a series of lessons at quite a financial deal.  I roped my sister into joining me.  We enjoyed the time together, even though our inclinations went in slightly different directions.  I found I have some talent with the water colors; it is untrained and I have so much to learn. Her talent leans toward drawing; she creates some beautiful scenes with her graphite.  However, life has interfered and we no longer have the time to share while we create.  Someday....

It is easier when there is more than just me painting, someone else to critique, encourage.  But I could still focus on my own if I would just make the time for it.  Or there hadn't been that stray comment (by me, I am sure) of what was I going to do with all of this.  There is no room on our walls for my creations, so they sit stacked in a corner.  I actually bought a table to organize the bits and pieces  so it doesn't take up the dining room table when I am not painting.  It sits in the corner of the dining room, waiting, calling me.

Since I have invested time and money into water colors, mom has understood about leaving the dining room to me.  However, the stray thought about what I was going to do with all of the paintings stopped me cold and I haven't picked a brush up for a couple of months. There is talent, then there is ability.  Practice feeds the ability, talent needs to be encouraged.  But there must be a lot of practice.....which leaves a lot of stray (oh my gosh, what am I going to do with this?) paintings stacked.  In the dining room.

Mom tries to be subtle.  Tonight she said that we could clean dad's side of the closet out and have an area to stack my paintings (a place to put away my mess?) and things.  Perhaps I read more into things than I should.  She was being kind.  I see it as a failure.  I really want to paint.

I started this blog to display my paintings, brainstorm on what I am trying to learn.  I don't want to put it away, even if it is another two months before I pick up another brush.  I really want to paint, to create.  So, I have decided that my room will be my gallery.  I have felt better since I decided this. No more stacking in the corner.  My mind is, once again dissecting images, wondering how to approach an idea with water colors blending together.  Never mind the offer of the closet.  I can't wait to begin again.