BRAVE ... NOT REALLY

This page is another one about losing a very dear friend.  Tomorrow will be her funeral and I don't know how I'm going to get through it.  But then again, for the sake of my friend's daughters and husband, I will find a way but only with God's help.

It was just a simple background using two colours of green acrylic paint, and I started to collage the edges with monochrome because it felt right for a mourning piece.

And here it is with the collaged edges complete.  This is the simplest way I know to begin a page - to put a frame around it - and I wasn't feeling up to anything fancy.

Below you can see how I then joined all the elements together with a black outline and a little bit of doodling - it makes such a difference and kind of unifies the result.  The image of Frida Kahlo is there because she was a brave woman, and a heroine of mine who lived through a lot of pain ... so her face is to remind me that I can do it too.  Notice how some colour creeps in - it seems I can't help it.

The writing just says how I was feeling - dreading the day and yet wanting to testify to the great love I felt for my friend.

The red flowers were not only to fill up space but to symbolise strength and my wish to celebrate a life well lived, even if it was shorter than any of us hoped.  So these are brave flowers to remind me to give thanks that she was in my life for 35 years ...

I'm so sorry if my posts have been relentlessly negative recently - there has been a lot of difficult stuff to get through.  Its part of the journey of everyone's life and journalling about mine is my therapy. I share it in the hope it might touch your life too.

MANY TEARS ...

I've reached an age where year on year I am saying goodbye to friends - breast cancer claimed one, an unexpected heart attack another.  Now two women who have been a huge influence on and a blessed part of my life over many years are slipping away from me.

I really wanted to make a page to celebrate them both but ended up in tears over my journal, so this is what happened.  I made a simple paint background in pink and blue, intending to say something about the blessings friendship brings ... but then I drew a black line on it.

 And out came the real feelings ... the tears I've shed for each when (more than once) it has looked like it was the end.  I also had to acknowledge that really the tears were for myself, and the great loss their passing will be, and the big hole it will leave in my life. I've prayed very very hard, and surrendered each of them into the hands of God, and so what will be will be, according to Her will and purpose.

But everyone knows that its very hard to lose friends - the people who are the family we choose for ourselves - and tears seem normal and right in the face of so great a loss.  Its also much much better to shed those tears, than to bottle up anger and sadness.

And in the end they are both such faithful servants of their God I have no doubt whatsoever that they will be received in heaven with much rejoicing.  So why am I crying?  Because I'll still be here, without them.    
And that's sad.

WASTING TIME ON FEAR ...

 

This page marks a substantial shift in my thinking, and one that I hope I can hold onto in the coming hours and days.  The nearer we got to the major surgery, the more time I spent praying desperately and frankly allowing my fear to completely overwhelm me.

A day came when I realised that I was assuming the worst rather than hoping for the best, and that this approach didn't make any sense!  Its one thing to be realistic and acknowledge the risks of the operation, or the reality of the survival statistics, but its as if I was so determined to be sensible and pragmatic that I was failing to allow for hope, not to mention grace.

I knew when I set down the paint below that I wanted to describe and record this change in thinking, but not exactly how to do it.  I've learned that all you can do is BEGIN, so that's what I did using ordinary craft paint in three different shades.

Then I added some collage and it shouldn't be any surprise that it turned into a sort of sunrise image ... it really had been about the light dawning!  I've set these pictures side by side so that once again you can see the difference that a black outline and a grey shadow makes.

And then I started writing down everything I'd come to understand, and my decision to choose hope rather than assume the worst.  I do know that bad things might still happen, but overall the statistics for this type of cancer are good, with a high survival rate.  Removal of the bladder sounds really scary, but the more I learn about it the more I realise that its actually quite straightforward to manage and no big deal.  So, as I wrote at the head of the page, I'm not wasting any more energy on fear, I'm hoping and believing that this operation can be a total cure - words used by the surgeon. Maybe I got a bit knocked off course by the sudden death of my friend's husband on the operating table ... and feared a similar outcome.  I'm (trying) not to do that any more.

And then as per usual I got busy writing and drawing etc etc adding squiggly bits and generally filling up the page until it looked finished.  I do feel that a page should always have some human element - a face or an eye - just something to represent myself or humans generally.

The surgery is Monday, and it will be a long day (about 6-8 hours) before we know he's come through it OK, but I and many others will be holding him in prayer the whole time.  I've got my lovely daughters here at home with me, they've rallied to our side magnificently, so if I do have a few wobbles they'll be at my back.

I thank God that this is the kind of cancer on which its possible to operate - many aren't - and that we have a good chance of coming out on the other side of his recovery with a chance to start the retirement fun that's been put on hold.  Bring it on!

THIS IS WHO I AM

 

This page is an exploration of pain really - someone who used to be a very close friend and very special to me doesn't really seem to have time for me any more.  I know its hard that she has to come to me because I can't drive now, and getting on the bus is too much for me, but I thought there were still lots of way for us to connect.  It seems I may have been wrong, at least for her, and this was me working out my feelings of sadness and some anger about a friendship that seems to be ending because I can't do things any more.

The vivid colours I chose may have had more to do with anger and disappointment,than anything else, but are also to do with strongly asserting that I am still ME, and I thought I was valued for that and not for the things I could DO?  I took this picture to show how Neocolour II crayons look before and after you put water on them - just a slightly wet paintbrush.  It looks like wax crayon scribbles and then dissolves into intense colours - alchemy!

And then with the colour blocks laid down I began the infinitely enjoyable process of adding doodly details - initially in the corners.  These are done with Posca paint pens, which are opaque over pretty much any background.

Then I began to add bits of collage - most of these are from colour copies of old journal pages, cut out with a circle punch.  The Modigliani lady is sort of meant to be me, although I am thinner in my imagination than in reality!

And then below you can see how the things on my heart were poured out onto the page .... so that I moved from feeling angry and let down to a deep sadness at what what is being lost.  However she has the right to choose that this isn't right for her any more, and I must have the grace to let go.  In time I may come to celebrate the good times we've had, but right now I haven't got to that place.

And as always getting it out robs the issue of most of its power to cause pain and hurt, and seeing it set out on the page you can begin the process of letting go.  So then I just had fun with the doodly dots, which is an almost meditative process guaranteed to soothe even the most bruised heart.

It pains me to say that I can't be or do most of what I used to, but the process of losing those things has also been a process of inner growth and strength which I believe (hope) has made me a better person.  And its because of that I can let go of something which may simply have had its time.  Well, that's a work in progress for now.