My Life is So Sweet!

Dale
I haven't been posting much lately, haven't had much time for computer stuff, or cleaning, or sleeping. My life has taken a turn for the fantastic! The guy in this picture is the reason why! Ok, so maybe it's not the best picture for showing off my boyfriend, but I will get some that are better. I like it because dang he's hot! Hangin on to that rock face in those shorts! hmmm So much better than chocolate!

Well, there it is. I have fallen really hard for this guy. Guess what? Feeling's mutual!

Maybe this weekend will bring some time to write about spooning. OH MY HECK!!!! Life is soooooo Great!

Gotta go now, time to get ready for tonights date!

I Offer You My Hand

My hand

I’ve been told that drawing hands is very difficult. I thought it was fun. I had a blast exaggerating the lines and shadows on my hand. The drawing makes my hand look much older, but it definitely has plenty of character.

Probably the most powerful symbol in human existence is the hand. The human hand is so unique with it’s opposable thumbs and limitless dexterity. The hand carries all of the trials and tribulations of a life. It boasts our greatest strengths and exposes our weaknesses. It is used to heal and harm, create and destroy, give and take, help and impair, hold and crush. Our hands offer our hearts to God.

Our hands do our bidding, whatever the cause.

Today I offer you mine.

Dale

I gave a great deal of consideration as to whether I should post this. I'm not sure I know exactly what it says about me, but I can't concern myself with what other people think. Maybe I'm afraid of a Godly reprimand. Maybe I'm afraid is not a good reason to not post this, though. After all, I have made a conscious decision to not base any more of my choices on fear.

So, here it is.

I love that you called me every day this week. Well, except for Wednesday because I called you first. I am so thrilled that you think about me so much, because I can’t stop thinking about you.

It sounds so ridiculous, but I have done everything that seems to have jinxed every past romance. I told all the girls at work, told you I liked you right away, I even bought new underwear. You still call. You still want me. It still feels right.

So Friday night finally came. I met you at Johnny Carino’s in my new outfit. I showed you my pictures of vacation spots and of my art. You were impressed. Cool.

We didn’t smooch much, not because I didn’t want to. I can show some patience, see? Then you took me home. To your home.

You gave me the tour of your house, and said you hoped I would live there with you someday. The tour ended in your bedroom. Ok, so this might be too fast, but what can I say. I don’t want to play games, and the honest truth is, I want this.

It was so wonderful to have a man touch me the way you touched me. Always lovingly, always gently, always warmly. You didn’t move too fast, I never felt rushed. Nothing happened until I was ready for it.
I always thought it was just a cliché, the way women gushed about feeling like they were one with their lover. I’d never felt it before, I thought they were making way too much out of nothing. I thought that until that wonderful night I spent with you. I really did wonder where I ended and you began.

You went on your long planned climbing vacation the next morning. You still call me when you have a signal. It’s a lot more work that a guy playing a girl would go to. I hid my match profile. It took me a little longer than it took you. I believe you really want this. I don’t think you are lying. So I will wait for you to get home Friday. I will give this new romance every chance to work. I am looking toward the future with hope.

I am really looking forward to really getting to know you. I want to learn to climb. I will learn more about you while you teach me than you would guess. It’s nice to know we’ll get there. I love that you want to be my boyfriend, and I am happy to be your girlfriend.

And I will take comfort in knowing that nothing has happened too fast, or not fast enough. It has and will happen just exactly how it should. I’m amazed. I asked for you, and there you are. That is the last jinxer you know - saying you are heaven sent! But that doesn’t mean it isn’t true, either.

Second Date

Neither of us wanted to wait until Friday. You called me on your way home from your ski trip Monday. You were concerned that it would be too late to go for a walk, but I insisted it wasn’t, I wanted so badly to see you, too badly.

I headed out ten minutes too early, and ended up watching the water overrun the giant pillars of basalt and crash into the river below. I tried to be patient, but my excitement exceeded my skill, and I checked the time every minute for the full ten minutes. I fanaticized a dozen ways to greet you, and forgot them all when you came.

You brought your dog, who seemed most uninterested in me. Perhaps she could tell that I wasn’t there to see her. Perhaps it was because she is just too laid back to express her feelings toward me in any outward manner. I wonder, did she like me?

We held hands and walked down the stairs of the Shoshone Falls outlook. The roar of the water couldn’t drown out the pounding of my heart. You decided that if a person drove a boat up under the falls, that he could climb right up the rock face of the falls. I’m really not sure what to think about that, but I know it is a part of you that I find fascinating.

We walked part-way up the centennial trail, and, when we found a private spot, we stopped. We kissed. Your lips were warm and gentle. You held me so close, stroked my hair, caressed my back. Your tongue was shy, so I teased it out. The taste of your mouth sent shocks of excitement throughout my entire body.

The night air took on a chill, but your body pressed against mine kept me warm and tingly. I never wanted to stop. You made me want to do things I shouldn’t even be thinking about yet. Is this moving to fast?

I can’t get over how comfortable I feel with you. I don’t have to prove my worth to you. When you touch me, I feel appreciated. When you look at me I feel beautiful. When you kiss me I feel. I can’t even say I know this feeling, I don’t think I have ever felt it before.

Oh, the chemistry is there. I recognize that. Every nerve ending in my body screams for your attention. Your touch brings to life every hair, every pore, every, well, let’s just say, I want you. I throb in places I forgot existed. I am alive, and vibrant. Inside I feel this can’t move fast enough. It feels so right.

Friday. It’s a long time to wait to hold you again.

First Date

I was so excited to get to meet you. I didn’t want to be early, waiting sucks. I didn’t want to be late, I have more respect for you than that. I was right on time. I was so nervous. You were standing there waiting, and I couldn’t believe how handsome you were.

There is something so classy about an outdoor adventurer. Dressed in black, tall, and gorgeous, you stood waiting with an air of confidence, but I could tell you were nervous. I was so happy to see you, and you seemed genuinely pleased to see me. I wanted to fall into your arms right at that moment, and stay there forever. I didn’t want to know more, I would be disappointed if you were different than my mind made you out to be.

We went into the restaurant prepared for a wait. Could you tell how nervous I was? Was it obvious that my stomach was turning somersaults, my heart swelling with excitement? I tried to calm myself. How amazing that I never felt I had to be anything but who I am. Nervous, excited, hopeful, but never insecure. I was immediately at ease with you.

The host seated us. We sat, pretending to study the menu, stealing glances of each other. I longed to run my fingers through your tousled, blonde hair, and gaze into your honest blue eyes for an eternity. You smiled at me so genuinely, crinkling your strong and dignified nose, and I tried to imagine your well manicured goatee tickling my chin. Your lips were a galaxy away.

Then the dance began. Probing questions were asked, never to the point but always leading to the right answers. How could it be? How could I have actually found another human being who really sees the world as I do? In Idaho! Our words reached out, whirling in circles, chasing, teasing, and catching each other. Before dinner came, they had formed into one single beautiful flame.

I told you some secrets, but not enough to spoil the mystery. The hours passed. All of a sudden it was silent. I looked up and no one was around. They had gone leaving us to each other. Only a handful of wait people lingered. They were so nice to let us stay so long after closing. We had to leave.

You walked me to my car, I dragged my feet. A little small talk and then…you wrapped your arms around me and held me close, and didn’t let go. Then you looked at me, you said something, I can’t remember what, then kissed me. Gently, warmly, perfectly.

I can’t stop thinking about you, and don’t want to. I can’t wait to see you again next Friday. You called me today! I am astounded that you feel the same way. You said so! I love the way this feels.

Memories

Charcoal Shells

This is one of my favorite charcoals because it brings back happy memories. The shells we got on vacation, the day I drew them was happy and peaceful. Not all of my memories are like that. As a matter of fact, my first memories were very unhappy.

Someone was up. I can still see the shaft of amber light that radiated beneath the door.
I was small, still just a baby, alone in my crib, and surrounded by an infinite darkness that was pierced only by that shaft of amber. I was ready to get up and go. I decided I could just climb right out of the crib, which is exactly what I tried to do. I had practiced this climb and was sure I could make it. I held on with everything I had and pulled myself up. Over the rim I flung my foot, and secured it on the other side. Ok, now what?

I was farther than I had ever been, and now, I was stuck! I had gone too far to get back into the crib, yet, if I let go now, I would fall into that abysmal darkness, to be lost forever. I was trying so hard to be quiet, it was not good to disturb mommy. I must have been crying because the door opened and there she was.

Her form silhouetted against the glow of the light behind her. Suddenly the abyss wasn’t so frightening, not compared to the wrath I knew she would bring against me. But something unexpected happened. Instead of yelling, she said “are you ready to get out of bed? Did you get stuck? Here, let me help you.”

The incident shouldn’t have mattered. The trauma of being swallowed into the nothingness surely wasn’t so traumatic. Getting yelled at was not unusual. People aren’t supposed to have memories that date back before age three, and I couldn’t have been three yet. I have a distinct knowledge in that memory of being in a room at the top of the stairs. The only house I lived in like that was one I lived in before three years of age. Unless my mom lied about the age at which I was potty trained.

I also remember my mom telling me about my sister crying a lot, and thinking it was so cute that I stood at the bottom of the stairs yelling “Ki!, oh Ky!” every time she started to cry. I am 16 months older than my sister, so I must have been close to that age.

I know I was being potty trained when we lived at the house on Highland. I remember it because my grandma Irene had come to visit and was leaving. We were walking her out to her car. Something caught my eye.
There was this most beautiful woman riding her bike with such grace and elegance down the street. I watched her bare feet as they somersaulted, heal over toe over heal. I was completely mesmerized. Her long brown hair was twisted into elegant braids. She passed me without even a glance. It was magic.

Of course, my adult memory recognizes that she was probably all of nine or ten, and that she was just a little girl riding her bike up and down the street on a hot summer evening. That would have put me at about 20 months!

As I was watching her ride away down the street, I was suddenly shocked back into “reality” with a swift swat on the butt, and an angry mother yelling that she had told me not to go into the street! I remember my grandmothers face. She was shocked, surely more by my mothers violence than by my act, but I saw it as concurrence at that time. I was sent into the house, crying.

My step dad met me in the kitchen. “Why are you crying?” he asked. I tried to tell him about the beautiful woman on the bike, failing miserably to be understood. “Are you saying you have to go ‘try’?” Try was the word for having a bm in the potty chair. The next thing I knew, that was where I was, in the bathroom, on the potty chair, step dad saying “Try, Cheri, Try!”

So according to these memories, I had to have been living on Highland just before I turned two. I remember that before we moved, my aunt Mila was visiting, trying to shame me into not wetting the bed. My sister was already successfully potty trained then. So that memory had to be closer to four.

I know we moved out of that house when I was four. That was when my great-grandpa Al sold my mom and step dad a house for a more than reasonable price.

I don’t know why any of that is important. Why would my mind hold onto such memories? The one thing they all have in common was the intense fear I felt for my mother. I think that is sad. I wish I didn’t have to be afraid of my mother. I wish that I had a mother that I could love and confide in. Someone who would tell me I’m loved and valued. No matter what, no matter. I can’t make this feeling disappear. A large part of me really doesn’t want to. How can I miss so much a thing I’ve never had?

Fallen Vessel

Fallen Vessel

We are not human beings experiencing a spiritual existence. We are spiritual beings experiencing a human existence. I read this somewhere and BOOM! I knew this was my motto. It so completely describes how I feel about this life. That is why I choose not to deny ego, that is why I choose to continue to have the experience. The fact that I can see this so clearly today is very encouraging. There will be more ups and downs for a while, I know. But there is hope.

I am ready to begin my new life. I did something strange and signed up on match.com. I have really gotten a lot of winks and responses on my profile so far. These are keeping so busy right now that I really haven’t had much of a chance to look for what I actually want in a partner. But I do have a pretty good idea. And it looks like there might be some guys out there who are as out there as I am.

So I’m adding a picture today. This one is a pastel drawing of a vase. In an art class the students were supposed to sketch designs that they wanted to sculpt into native Idaho clay. I have this drawing, but I was unable to translate it into clay. I am going to take a pottery class this summer with my work friend. It will be fun. 5 eight hour days in a row, shaping and molding hunks of mud into works of art. I can hardly wait.

Anyway, this vase is a representation of the soul of a woman. The base of the vessel is the beautiful natural wonderful person all of us start out as. The black is the messages we receive over our lifetimes that blacken and threaten to engulf us. It's never too late to realize what is happening and to change our minds about ourselves. We can reclaim our precious flower.

The Bachelor

She looked confused and unsure. She certainly didn’t make them feel as if she really wanted the prize. She said she couldn’t say it because she wasn’t that kind of person. In truth, she didn’t know why. If she had known she would have said “you want me to declare my undying love and devotion for your son to you, and to be honest, nothing would feel better. But to assign words to the feelings and actually say them out loud would make them acutely real. I can’t wear my heart on my sleeve, I have to keep it safe. Right now, it‘s not safe.

“I could though, I could walk this path with him as far as it goes, off into eternity if possible. And I would, if it were just me. But it isn’t just me, is it? Sarah is also a factor.

“And oh what a factor she is. Bubbly, ambitious, goal oriented, Sarah is beautiful and kind. She has never known the pain and disappointment that have made me so private and guarded. She has so many of the qualities I wish I could possess. She is a big factor, and she would help him break my heart.

“So please don’t ask me to give what he cannot.”

She knew she wasn’t safe, but she didn’t know quite how she knew. She chalked it up to the game. She’s an intelligent woman, after all, and surely she knew what she was getting herself into, right? No one really knows how it will really be. Twenty five beautiful women claw and bite their way to the bachelor, as if having him in the end is worth the means. But it’s a cruel, and evil game.

It’s a wild rollercoaster ride designed to throw all of the women off kilter. They put them all in the same house to divert their attention to unimportant matters. He plays them all. He makes them all feel as if they’re the only one he sees.

That’s how he made her feel. She trusted him, and believed that he was being honest with her about his intention. She never would have done this if she hadn’t been so busy trying to prove the him, her and everyone else that she was worthy of his affection. She couldn’t see how wrong the whole thing really was. Why should she prove her worth to him, or any other man for that matter.

The truth nagged at her constantly, but she didn’t understand it. If he loved her the way she deserved to be loved, he would have told her and the entire world, ratings be damned. You know he told the girl he picked. She couldn’t hide it, it was written all over her face.

So while the one walks away with a date for a while, the other one is left to pick up the pieces that are left of her heart. She didn’t wear it on her sleeve, but she didn’t keep is safe, either.

FROZEN

Ice Falls at Shoshone Falls February 25, 2006

I was an explorer not long ago, babbling happily and flowing free.
Now I’m bound to this melancholic scene trapped with brutality.
The river runs before me, heading to the sea.

I crave to mingle within it depths, and journey on out to the deep ocean.
But, I dangle from a rocky precipice, silent and hopeless and frozen.
The sun is shining hotly, still I‘m not in motion.


Shoshone Falls February 25, 2006


Rainbows and waterfalls torture me pounding and glowing with all their might.
Oh! Do they know how I long to be with them and laughing in the sunlight?
But I must wait for my turn, my freedom is in sight.


Potholes of Shoshone Falls, Feb 25, 2006

The water I’m watching with such yearning was once as frozen and tortured as I.
Now it has the freedom to frolic and play and make rainbows that dance in the sky.
Soon I’ll get to join them, when time has passed me by.


Shoshone Falls, natural bridge. Feb 25,2006



Shoshone Falls February 25, 2006



Ice falls watching the Snake River flow to the sea.

I will again be an explorer, flowing free, no longer frozen, playing happily in the light that comes from the sun so high.

Depression

Stay Afloat

I don’t know the exact point when things began to change. I felt so strong and confident about where I was and where I was headed. There was peacefulness to my existence. I was happy just being in the moment, knowing that the days ahead would take care of themselves.

I have a faint recollection of the melody playing inside my head, but I thought for sure it would not be a threat this time. Oh January, you never announce your arrival, and you never leave in silence. I always dread your visits. Why must you be so unkind?

I’ve spent the past several days trying to sleep it off, to no avail. I read the words of others, yet feel no reprieve. I breathe in deeply, breathe out with intent, and yet suffer a fear of tomorrow. Tomorrow always comes for me. That should bring comfort this late in February, but apprehension is all I have. I don’t know why I wake up each and every day, but I am not always happy for it.

The wonders of modern medicine intervene when I want to cry. I don’t cry. I think I miss that. At least I feel alive when I cry. But now, I only feel hollow inside, unmoved by the sunshine, I am alone, and indifferent. I am now most dangerous to myself, for I have no will to live. My will to die is still not stronger than my fear of dying, but for how long? The race is on. Again.

I guess all the medicine in the world won’t stop this cycle. There are pathways in my brain that have been used so often throughout my life that they are easier to use than all the others. I need to find a way to prevent their use. I think in the winter I become so fatigued that I have to turn on the autopilot just to get out of bed every day and get to work. Getting enough sleep is not possible for me.

I look forward to May.

Back Off!

Back Off! It has been that kind of a week. I keep staying up till all hours of the night playing with my new computer. I am soooo tired right now that I really do think I am very possibly asleep. It was definitly not because of any meltdowns, just ordinary every day kind of noise. But by the time the end of the school day approached, I was gone. I roamed the halls and worked really hard to get realease students to actually leave the campus like they're supposed to. I bared my teeth.

I drew this in charcoal. I was helping a student in his art class who is quite self sufficient in art. The fact that I have been going to art classes for the past several years as a part of my job, is why I have been able to get to where I am with my art today.

I am really looking forward to finishing my acrylic painting and work some more on a couple of oils this week end. But more than anything else, I'm sleepy and need a long nap.

Happy Valentines Day!

Valentine bouquet Another Valentine's Day come and gone. My valentines came in the form of a good friend and great kids. Still no significant other, which is a common theme for me on Valentine's day, yet this year it hasn't bothered me in the least. The school office filled up with thousands of dollars worth of red, pink and white artistic compilations that will only be enjoyed for a few short days. The flowers my friend bought me were very sweet and beautiful, the dinner with my kids was great. The items were only temporary. The flowers will die, the dinner will be processed and eliminated (with any luck at all) and the cards will be recylcled. The memories, however, are forever. I have them now, they will remain with me.

Neither gift was given as a trade for my affection. They weren't given to declare a love that must be returned. They were simply genuine gifts of sincerity - yes, I thought enough of you to actually think of you when you were not present. I like you enough of you to show you that. You see, you do matter!

I do matter!


What makes this drawing a Valentine's Day Bouquet? What doesn't make it a Valentine's Day Bouquet? What is it? What is it not?

What it is is a special part of who I am, and I think enough of the viewer to share it with you, which makes it a sincere gift. Once again I give back a small piece of my (he)art.

Have You Seen This Alien?

Have You Seen This Alien?

I was sitting on my couch one Saturday afternoon, watching cooking shows on PBS and working on a cross stitch project. I looked up at my VCR and froze. I saw two round black eyes staring at me. It looked so strange, like an alien depicted in those unsolved mysteries shows.

I couldn't see where the reflection was coming from, maybe behind me? I slowly turned around to look. No, there were no aliens behind me. I sat for a few more minutes, then got up the courage to get off the couch and move in for a closer look.

The two black round eyes were the volume control buttons on my VCR. What was making the reflection for the rest of the creature, I could not tell. It is gone now, except for in this drawing diary, and now on this blog. I will never forget you alien reflection! In my memory and in my (he)art you shall live on forever!

Summer Eagles

Summer Eagle This oil on canvas board was an impressionist depiction of an couple of eagles taking in the last of the hot summer evenings in the Idaho desert. Came out of my head, down my arm through my fingers along the brush and onto the canvas. It was a kind of magic really. Not perfect, but not bad for one of my learning curves.

Pastel Shell

Pastel Shell This pastel drawing was done in November of 2004. I sat watching tv and helping my son with a homework art project and decided, hey, I'll just draw one of these shells I got on our last vacation! So here it is. I believe I was really starting to see!

My Eye!

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My Eye! No really! It is my eye! My eye as I saw in in a make-up mirror! This was the first Charcoal drawing I ever did that I really thought was right on. Created on January 27, 2004, it was the object of much admiration, not just mine either! I was offered many opportunities to draw people for free too! Unfortunately for them, I am no longer free and easy. Hot and ready, yes, but I am no longer free for the taking.

Autism

Autism. When my son was diagnosed, I don’t think anyone really knew what it was at all. Things aren’t much better now. The Pediatric Neuropsychiatrist who made the official diagnosis wasn’t the best thing that could have happened. He was kind enough to imply that there was no cure, but that my son could grow up to be an independent productive member of society, or, he could end up in an institution - all depending on how I handled it.

No, he wasn’t calling me a refrigerator mother, but he was putting a heavy burden on my back. There were no services in our town. The closest we had was Mike Day in Boise, and he was simply too busy to be of any real assistance to us. He tried, and had some great ideas about how my son should be educated, but the local school district, my employer, dug in their heals.

After four years of waiting, my son finally got accepted into an ABA program that was coming to our town. The first therapist we had was extremely gifted. She is one of those people who sees the person underneath the behavior. She taught me how to be non-emotional and far more accepting of the symptoms that were a part of his autism.

My son got a lot better in the short time she was with him. I unfortunately stayed with the program for too long after she was gone. The others, while they were good at saying “no that’s wrong” and putting kids in time-out, were absolutely clueless as to how to help their clients navigate effectively through their lives with their disability. A lot of stress was added to my son’s life. I limited their services to working with him in school, because the school district has really strong heals, until he was functioning well enough to not need them any more. I gave them a couple of months of social, then pulled him. It was more harmful than good.

We cruised along for several years without private services. Then his high school teacher suggested he see a counselor friend of hers. He seemed nice, and it felt to me as though God put him in my path for my son. It worked well at first. Then he wanted to put Zach on medications. I should have, and wish now that I would have, said no, no, no, and stuck with it. He used my insecurity and fears against me and now, my son is on Seroquel. Now he’s 18 and decides for himself, but he still hasn’t chosen to stop. He is also on and Zoloft, and should probably stay with that as he does seem much happier now.

The real problem is, that even though this counselor (Mike) has a son with an ASD, I don’t think he understands it at all. My son didn’t develop the skill to recognize the shadows were just shadows, so Mike decided that he was hallucinating. My son has been bullied and teased and used and abused by so many people in his life that he has some real paranoia to have to deal with. But Mike is sure this is Schizo related. I think Mike needs to read some of the blogs by autistics. My son is just like them. The way he thinks, the way he feels.

At this time, it really looks like my son will live an independent life. I don’t know how productive he will be at this point, but SSI will be there for him. He dreams of attending college and moving out on his own. I see no reason why he shouldn’t.

It was a difficult road, but we seem to have made it successfully. And to be honest, I don’t think I am the reason for my son’s success. He deserves all the credit for that.

I think I’ll start working on a Neurodiversity blog. Neurotypical people think that, because they are in the majority, they are right. I would like to disprove that notion.

A New Year, A New Computer

Whew! I made it through another January! It was so close, but I think I'm out the other end now.

Last weekend, I went to look at cd/dvd burners and realized that the way to go is to get one in a new computer. And since I was getting a new computer, why not replace the old bubble jet with a new printer/scanner/copier? So now I can add some of the things that really speak to my relationship with all that is.

My art is rough, but getting better. I hid it away my whole life to protect it from my mother. Now that she is no longer a threat, I can develop that which really makes me me!

This is my first painting! It is oil on canvas and a practice of grapes. I am currently working on a still life of grapes for my friend because she liked these so much. The leaves don't really look much like grape leaves, but I really learned a lot about painting with oil during this process.

Not bad for my first, is it?

I've been reading some blogs written by people who have autism. It is a real eye opener. Maybe sometime I'll put some of those links on this site and discuss my views on all of it, but not now.

January

There is an agonizing ache in my heart. It is not for lack of affection, for there is no kindness there to share. It is a dreary throb, monotonous and thin. Barely enough to keep me alive, not enough by which to live. January howls through my bones, the suns warmth barely interrupts the long nights. The days are gray, dismal, gloomy, tedious.

The freeze of winter creeps across my soul. My nerves shatter with even the slightest touch. My eyes would cry if not for the ice that binds them. My mind desires long sleeps. The strain of life tears at my back. Oh what I would give for an escape from this madness. What cost would be exacted? What have I left to give?

The pull of my Chippewa ancestors is strong. It is the time for hibernating, yet this life of mine requires that I conduct myself with purpose. But only an ache lives where that purpose should be. I have no taste for the next 50 days. I wish only to sleep until spring.

Hide and Seek

I know what it is like to not have a self. For most of my life I had no ego to call home. My name was uttered with no reverence or meaning. I was laughed at, spit on, and beaten. A silent darkness washed over my coagulating life. I stood too long in the thick black mud of rejection and my feet sank deep into it’s pain. Humiliation crept up my legs and fear gripped my heart. I was so tortured by loneliness that I nearly vanquished in its void.

But something unexpected took hold. The bright sun thawed my eyes and I began to see. A new me was beginning to unfold. My self worth blossomed. The breezes of spring tickled my tongue, and then, with no doubt, I said my name. Cheri. I shouted it out into the infinite! Cheri! When it echoed back, I knew I was valued. Cheri! I am loved and accepted, unconditionally. By me. I am Cheri.

There is so much joy in finding one’s self. A sweet peace washes over you when you finally realize that you are loved and accepted unconditionally. By you. I came to that place where I knew how to love and accept myself. That is how I found Cheri. It was the discovery of me.

Sometimes a cold wind howls, and a dark cloud obscures the sun. Still, my first reaction is to hide. I know the cold lurks just beyond. I must hide. A thick black mud patiently waits to engulf me. I hide. I close my eyes. I hide. I pray for guidance. And hide. I know not who I pray to, but I have faith they listen. While I hide. And then, just as suddenly as the storm came, I push it away. I find me hiding and hold my hiding face in my seeking hands. My seeking eyes look deep into my hiding eyes. I remember I have value and am accepted, unconditionally. Whether I’m lost or found. Whether I seek or hide. I am! I feel joy - again. I am at peace - again.

Perhaps it’s because there is so much joy in the discovery and rediscovering. Retreating and seeking becomes a theme to a life. Today, my seeking hands hold my hiding face. Today, my seeking eyes look deep into my hiding eyes. Today, I remember! I have worth! I am unconditionally loved and accepted. By me. I am Cheri!


Today, I express my gratitude with sweat, and paint.