Sunday, August 23, 2009
Who do you talk to?
Instead of going to bed and finishing my boring book, I will write the post that I won't be able to write in the morning, because I will be busy waking up and drinking my coffee and petting the dog before I'm off to creative therapy.
Just think of that, creative therapy, as if it is just the most normal thing in the world to go off and be creative in a therapeutic setting. It makes you have expectations, doesn't it? What do you think I will have learned there? Mentally, I mean.
I learned to be comfortable in a group of very diverse people. And to not be so sure of first impressions, but to look deeper than the skin and see the person within and to really listen and look and observe and get to know the other person and find that valuable nugget inside.
I also learned to be sure of myself and to allow myself to do work that I was not at all that comfortable about in front of a group of sometimes very competent people and dare to fail at it and I failed at first, but it didn't matter.
I learned to watch what other people did and to ask questions and to apply what I saw to what I wanted to do myself and make it work and have it turn out right.
I learned to become an observer, or maybe I already was and applied it here, and sometimes silently came to my conclusions about many things and stood corrected many times too.
I learned I was an artist, which I was always supposed to be my whole life, but which fact had become neglected and disused after many years of living a whole different life style. I must never forget that fact now, because it is who I am and already now I feel it slipping away from me and trying to escape like sand through my fingers. It is a good thing that I have sculptures and collages as a testimony to what I am capable of, or I would not believe it myself. I would think it was all in my imagination.
So, I suppose that I learned quite a bit at creative therapy and I don't think I have really mentioned everything here. I've just pulled out a few obvious things from my mind, the stuff that stands out the most. I suppose more than anything, creative therapy builds up your self esteem. I think that would be true for most people who go there and enjoy it. Some people try it and dislike it very much and drop out. That's the system of natural selection at work. Darwin would be pleased, socialism doesn't work here.
In the meantime, I've made a pack of cigarettes and petted the dog extensively. The poor thing doesn't get enough attention. He is so demure that I forget he is there, either that, or he's sleeping right by me and I'm so used to that, that I forget to pet him. Sometimes we need a good hugging session and he doesn't come and ask for it enough. I have to take the initiative and I forget to. Having a dog means you have to pay attention. When he needs some loving, I can't be busy with other things. He comes first, because he is so undemanding.
Do you know I get anxious whenever I hear a motorcycle close by or hear the outside door open and hear heavy footsteps in the entryway? I always have to soothe myself and tell myself not to worry, that nothing bad is going to happen. Now, that says more about me than it does about the men in my life. I always feel that I will be caught out and that I immediately have to cover up. That I'm doing things that are not allowed. Like having my own life. All by myself. Just me.
Well, that's it for tonight. I've said enough. The title doesn't matter. It was just a thought that I didn't want to complete. I'm going to take my medicines and go to bed.
Sleep tight, everyone.