So this is where I am today.  Feeling exposed, vulnerable, arms empty.  I stand as a woman wanting to be a mama, but can’t.  If I were to name this painting it would be called Empty Arms.  Wanting something like this so much feels like a nutrient you need but cannot eat, like you’re cold but cannot warm up.  Winter.  Your everyday looks different, from the moment you wake up to the time you crawl into bed at night, it’s not what you thought it would look like.  Your whole future has now changed.  The fact that this grief is so hard to let go of is because there really is no end.  There is no end, just a slow drip of a dream until one day you decide it’s gone.  You need to decide when to let go and you don’t want to… Having now accepted this I am in a better place.  I can feel happy without sad tears falling and I feel incredible grateful to be here.  But my arms are still empty, and sometimes they feel heavy so I’ll let them fall as colors onto my paper.

I will not be sharing the his faults, my faults, losses, have you trieds, why not justs, as least you’s…no.  This series is to give you a little background so when I paint scenes of children running around carefree or mothers and babies you know where it’s coming from.  It’s coming from a happy place that I’m making for myself to go.  To create moments and pretend they’re from memory.