I often wonder why when I see a blank white sheet of paper or a blank canvas I feel the urge to write on it or paint it. What is this need inside me to express some sort of emotion or feeling and then to have others see it? Am I looking for attention? am I missing something in my personality? is it the only way I know how to reach out to others? Or am I just a stones throw away from needing to be placed in a rubber room? I look back on some of my paintings and think WOW! was I really at that place in my mind? or I read over old writings and think how the hell did I make it out alive or ever get through that time of my life? I would like to think I did it on my own, just all me, no help from anyone or anything. I know looking back this is not true because I had help along the way, someone always seemed to be looking out for me. Not everyone sees it this way but for me God or my faith that there is something greater than me has kept me going. I am not sure of much but I am sure something has been guiding me and helping me along my path.
If it is true God is everywhere and in all things then those people who were there for me were in a sense God. I often when looking back forget those people who were there when I fell, those that extended a helping hand or a shoulder to cry on. Why do I do that? why do I feel like the only way to feel I accomplished anything is if I did it all on my own? or that it makes me somehow weak to admit I had help along the way. I am a person who as they say wears his heart on his sleeve and care deeply for those people I let into my life. But for some unknown reason to me I have a hard time letting those people know just how much they have shaped my life and helped me.
I wonder if this stems from my upbringing and of my Fathers constant push that I should never show weakness or never let the other guy think you need help in anyway. My Dad had a rough way to go growing up and somewhere along the line he made up his mind he would never show any weakness to anyone. I saw my Father cry only two times in my life, once was when his Father passed away the second time was when my sister passed away. Both of those times I could see although he was crying he was also angered by the fact he was letting his emotions show. Funny I am so different from him in that I am very emotional and have no problem crying or having anyone see me doing so. I never saw it as a weakness but I also never or tried to never let my father see me cry. I think of myself as a child starting out as a blank canvas and the people I have met along the way have helped to color me or paint who I am.
Both my parents came from large families and although they may have not wanted for much they were by no means rich. They knew what it was to not have things and wear hand me downs or second hand clothing. They wanted more for their kids and worked hard to try and make their kids life's better. I would hear my Mom talk about growing up and you could see in her eyes the love she had for her Mom and Dad and even when she talked about the hard times she did so with a gleam in her eye, almost laughingly. My Dad did not speak of his growing up much but when he did he mostly talked about his Dad. His Mother left when he was very young just walked out one day, and I think that did damage to him that effected him the rest of his life. I tell all this just to show I understand why my parents did the things they did and why they brought me up the way they did and that I am not bashing them in anyway.
Both my parents had an attitude that you should not ask for help and that if you were going to make it in this world you were going to do so on your own. Call it pride or what ever but to me they seemed to have this need to try and do everything with out help. Although they had help along the way very seldom did I hear them admit to that fact. I am not sure if it was something they were taught or because of being what some would call poor they just felt ashamed to ask or let anyone know they needed help. OK! I am rambling I know but I guess I am just trying to make sense of my need to do it on my own.
While I was in treatment for drug addiction one of the counselors gave me a piece of paper and written on it was a problem or situation that I had to give an answer as to how I would deal with it. The situation was as follows........You are in a store and you are buying a 70 pound bag of potatoes there are no carts in the store so you must carry them on your back. When you reach the check out the lines are long and not moving very fast the sack starts to become very heavy. What do you do? I said I would set it down and pick it back up when the line started moving. The counselor said you can not sit it down and you have to have them so you can not just put them back and leave. Every answer I gave he said was wrong and I started to get pissed off and the fact he asked me this question on a day my family was there made it even worse. I ended up getting so pissed off I walked out on the session and was saying under my breath some real nasty things about the counselor.
I would stay pissed until the next day when he asked me the same question again. I told him there was no answer, and this made him smile which pissed me off even more. I got so mad I yelled at him (WELL WHY DON'T YOU JUST TELL ME THE BLANKING BLANK BLANK ANSWER!)? Get this answer he gave me............are ya ready for it............ the answer was to ask for someone to help you. Well that just pissed me off even more and made me feel stupid but I could not understand why it pissed me off so much. It would be days before I would have any break through or understanding and see that I was so pissed off because I was unaccustomed to asking for help or accepting help for that mater. I would see that I was in fact carrying around all my emotions like a sack of potatoes and afraid to ask for help in any shape or form. I may have started out with one potato/emotion but over time the sack got full and started crushing me under its weight. I know to some that little story will have no meaning but for me it was a bit of a wake up call . I would have to learn to express my feelings and share them some how and ask for help when I needed it or they would build and build until I would be crushed under the load. And the fact I was no longer able to run to a bottle of booze or pop a pill to deal with them like I had in the past made it a difficult change to make. I had become so used to using substances like pills and booze it became the only way I knew how to deal with life. And God forbid I ask for help or showed I was not superman able to do it all with no help.
So have I gotten better at asking for help you may ask? to that question I would answer somewhat but I still try to do it on my own because I am stubborn and find old habits hard to break even when I know they are doing me harm. So when I see a fresh piece of paper I want to write on it or a blank canvas I want to paint on it I guess its just my way of emptying the potato/emotions to lessen the load. So if you have been there for me in the past and I did not say thank you it was not because I did not appreciate it it is that I did not know how to say thank you or that I was too ashamed that I needed your help at all. As I read over this I am thinking maybe the rubber room is the best answer after all. 8-)
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