Hey... — Marie Martello Art

It’s been seven months.

It doesn’t really feel any different than month six, or even five. The only difference is that I don’t completely break down every time I think of her or see a picture of her.

But every time the beginning of the month comes around, there is a sense of dread that looms over me. Like a sense of too much time passing and I start to panic. I ask myself: Am I healing? What have I done to accomplish healing? Is it even a journey if we are talking about grief? What the actual fuck is wrong with me?

I also thought that when I came back to painting that it would be a spark. Like a fire being ignited from within and all the poison and pain, tears would explode onto a canvas. Then, I would dramatically turn to the world and say, “Here! I have returned and through the darkness, there is light revealed!!”

It’s bullshit. It’s a slow leak. It’s a hard push. It is a slow crack with a hammer and chisel when your hands already ache from holding your head up. Your fingers are sore from spreading your smile, showing your teeth so others won’t forget what they look like; so no one will worry. The absolute truth of it all is that you’ve built a shell. Hell, “shell” isn’t even the right word… it is a hollow rock that you put all of your important attributes inside. All of your precious and intimate things you could ever think of, you packaged them up neatly and placed them into this hollow meteor, sealed it up, and shot it so far inside your soul that you aren’t sure if it even existed in the first place. Maybe it’ll burn up on impact….

In turn, I’ve become angrier. When I say angry, I mean more sensitive. Sensitive to criticism and emotional pain. To stress. I feel raw on the outside so I can hide every bit of my inside. My vulnerability has become more precious to me than anything in the world.

I can’t blame it all on grief. These are flaws. These things are me and my coping mechanisms. That’s one thing therapy has taught me over the years. I’ve been on ‘fight or flight mode’ and this was the thing…the straw.

If you were looking for an update, I apologize. I don’t have one for you. Just the slow ache that is my life right now. I am nerve endings. An open wound. All I can really give you are words, typed on a platform that no one really checks in on, within pages of mediocre art.

For those who keep up with my silly little life, thank you.

My gratitude always goes out to you. Thanks for watching, for reading, for caring.

….and I’ll keep trying. Every day, I’ll keep at it.

“I realize today that nothing in the world is more distasteful to a man than to take the path that leads to himself.”
― Hermann Hesse, Demian: Die Geschichte von Emil Sinclairs Jugend