Art therapy has really been my savior! Whether viewing, purchasing (I really need to get that under control 🥺), or creating it (and again, I’m no artist), but all of it really, helps me deal with a lot. It’s been my creative outlet when I can’t cook, when I need to get outside and connect to nature (because I paint on my back porch, warm or cold, dry or drizzling), and when I need to just sit down.
A dear friend recognized this and had been gathering me rocks and other found objects, buying me supplies, etc. We both initially thought that all that I’d be painting was rocks, as a way to deal with my young neighbor’s murder. That’s how it started.
My friend gave me this piece of metal a couple of months back. I gave an eye roll in my head thinking that was doing “the most”. He’s REAL extra. 🙄 Anyway, I graciously accepted the metal piece (it weighs a good 8-10 lbs, btw. You can definitely feel the weight of it.). I’ve been eyeing it from time to time, trying to figure out how to use the holes as eyes and convey “Rashad Mattered”, because that’s where my intention has been with painting. I could never seem to make it work.
Yesterday was stressful, I. BROKE. DOWN. It was hard and I just couldn’t deal. My mother’s visiting, and I’ll leave it at that. At some point, I had to just walk out of the house and onto my back porch to b r e a t h e and call upon God. I picked up the piece and knew EXACTLY what to do. I started with one color, and I had to wait for it to dry before I could apply more colors. This morning, after running out to help a good friend’s mom, who grew up with my mom, I came back to cook my mom breakfast. She was downstairs waiting for me. I was shaking, but then calmed down. I realized that I had just spent time with a mother figure who really appreciated me. She insisted on paying me, but I really didn’t want it. The experience with her was validating and so much appreciated. Over the past year or so, my dearest relationships and experiences have been with women my mom’s age or older. So whether or not, I meet my mother’s approval doesn’t matter. I have so many bonus moms who genuinely care for and appreciate me. The last time I talked with my therapist was two hours before my mother arrived here on March 4th. She was supposed to follow up with available days and times for my session the following week. She has not, and I was thinking that something was wrong, but I get it. This has really been a test of my strength because…whew!!!! I’ve needed her EVERY DAY. I’ve stuck it out though and realized this, and if any of you have issues with your parents, let me offer this, which is the original point that I was trying to make: SOME PARENTS’ ROLES IN OUR LIVES ARE SIMPLY AND ONLY, TO GET US HERE. PERIOD. Hard to accept, but it is what it is. My mother’s and father’s (his story will come later) roles in my life, were JUST to get me here. Not to love me, not to guide me, not to care for me. I’m grateful for them for life. I’m blessed. Their journeys in my life were actually done the day I was born. God bless them both.
Anyway, after cooking my mother’s breakfast, I came back to this piece to add more paint and to paint the other side. God told me it was finished. There was nothing more to add. I thoroughly inspected it. It is finished and I signed it.
Mae Boatwrite 