Ꮚℍ¡ᙏᔕ⟟☾aͥ̆𝕷 ᕔϰᵃ☈☪︎♓︎✌︎ 🚫🧊 :
I feel this so deeply. I'm an artist in so many different modalities since early childhood, constantly wanting to improve and be half decent at all the ways to express one's self. I love vibrant colors, glitter, lights, cool rocks 🪨, keepsakes, scrap booking, photography, ect. In my first marriage, I didn't own paint, I didn't collect anything, he hated glitter, and I got one multi photo frame for my photography but otherwise our home had blank white walls. There was no money (which he controlled) for art supplies but always money for his expensive car parts.
In my second marriage, she pushed me to go back to school for art therapy when we couldn't afford it without sacrificing elsewhere, she bought a bookshelf to display my ceramic art that I made over 5 terms, she got a second bookshelf to encourage my budding plant interest and our rock collection, I have a standing art desk in the middle of the living room, our walls are covered in my art, and there's always glitter or a sequin in our carpet no matter how much we vacuum🥰. I healed through art and read a poem about the prior abuse at a public art event with my wife and our friends in the front row, and I had an upcycled suncatcher piece sought after for a local art gallery for SA survivors. In the last 18 months, I've even found the bravery I once had to photograph the brutality of local 🧊 pr0t3sts through tearg@s and other deterrence methods, my wife right there by my side. She never gets mad that I have a billion art supplies now after 8+ years, and she dreams of turning our garage into a home ceramics studio for me. Life without art to me feels like living life with a lobotomy, and it really breaks my heart to know I allowed myself to live that way for nearly a decade for someone who clearly didn't even like me. If my first marriage was black and white with no depth, like a doodle flip book, my current marriage is full of color and movement and happiness on an IMAX screen. ❤️
2026-09-08 15:58:37