Oh the irony.
The last time I posted, I shared a painting I did of my Nanna. A beautiful woman who was taken from us, yet she is still living. Today I return to this blog to browse and decide whether I want to pick up where I left off and continue writing here, or whether I want to just begin again.
Why?
My world has been rocked harder than I thought possible. I am struggling deeply. I am alone. I need an outlet and as strange as it feels, I am drawn to share it in a more public manner than just writing in my journals. Maybe it's a cry for help? Every single day I long to have meaningful conversation with people who.....who "get" me. Who understand what I am experiencing emotionally. Who I can be myself with. Who won't judge me. Who I can verbally process with. Who I can sit silently with.
Who? Who are those people? Do they even exist? Who checks the boxes? Jesus.
For now, I will ask Him if He would have me write here or begin a fresh, new blog to document the LONG journey ahead. Or should I even write at all? The fog is thick. Every decision I make is tainted by the deepest grief.
For now, I'll do what I came here for today. To post my most recent painting. A portrait of a beautiful woman. The daughter of the woman in my previous post. A portrait of my sweet, sweet mother. My "go-to" person who checked all the boxes. Who I could talk to about anything, anytime. Who was the first person I wanted to share everything with. Who never judged me. Who never said things to try to hurt me. Who loved me no matter what. Who loved me the most. Jesus took her the day after my birthday. Oh how I miss her.
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