If I told my story, my truth, in detail, many would think I'm a lair.
To say that I'm a survivor would not be precise as it remains to be yet known if I've truly survived. But I've lived through 10 lives worth of trauma, some self imposed, but suffer I have and it's finality seems nowhere in site.
I've been through it all.
Humbled by force.
I'm 4 years sober from a 10 year trauma coaster on narcotics, which many have lost their lives to.
Escaping our pains is a dangerous game.
6 months ago I found what was missing from me for the last 30 years... And my fingers have yet to be clean of acrylic.
I'm 38 years old with a disability that provides me with nonstop pain in my left leg, spasms and muscle locking, cramping and feelings of glass shards running up my calves down to my toes. CRPS is what my addiction left me with.
Funny how the universe works, now that I need, require pain medication, I just can't risk going back into the abyss.
When I was 8 years old I painted a piece which was chosen by the Air Force Base Hospital Staff to adorn the wall of the cancer wing. It, Art, was always in me... I just now gave it the attention it deserved. And now I can't live without it.
My style has yet to be discovered but the journey to that moment, if it ever comes, is one of intuitive and carefree expressions, cathartic communication that speaks all that is me into every canvas I create.
I hope to learn about the artist that came before me, especially their struggles and pains, while looking to know my contemporaries, the masters of today. If I'm never noticed then the music of my life hasn't changed a tune ... So long I have my paint and brush then a lonely song I will sing.
If you haven't been told today...
I love you.