I’m sorry. I know sometimes it feels like I’m re-explaining the same concept… but I guess sometimes it just feels like I just feel the same concept again or something, or I think about it in a different way. I’m still trying to figure it all out, and just doing my best to write through the forest. Anyway…
I’ve been thinking recently, how if life is like a picture we’re painting… and we have a view of what we think it’s gonna be, and it might kind of change and evolve as we paint it… But we’re trying to make it as pretty as we can – to exactly whatever we think pretty means. We’re painstakingly picking the colors and trying so hard to make what we want.
And if we get a color or a shape on paper that just turned out to noooot be so good after all, we try to paint over it as best we can.
And then, one day, sexual assault guy took a bucket of paint and just dumped it all over my painting – like, wtf? What? Oh my goodness! There’s paint everywhere!
And so the beginning of it all is me just trying so so hard to clean up the mess even a little – to just get some of that goop-y paint off of me/off my painting – to even be able to see my painting again.
And then, even when I’ve shaken a fair amount of it off, everything is still red. Even if we assume I’ve gotten all the excess paint off (and goodness, I’m not even sure if I have yet), there’s still this red film just overtop of everything.
And then you have to do all the painstaking work to try to repair everything you already had. It takes layers in every part of your painting before it doesn’t seem like every single thing is red anymore.
It just feels so hard to repaint everything.
[To some extent, all my heart problems did this too. At that time, my whole painting had a huge gallon of blue fall all over it. And my world stopped looking blue eventually. But it’s hard when everything is one color. Or at least, I’m finding it very hard.]