Life...

I haven't posted in awhile..and its because life is just so hard for me. Lately I have just felt like I don't really have the energy to do much of anything...especially being creative. To lay it all out there, I have been in a struggle all my life really.  My parents were alcoholics and my brother and I were in and out of foster homes for the first 5 years of our lives. Finally being taken away for good, I was 5 he was 6. We were taken to the hospital after being left alone for days, they found us eating dry oatmeal out of a can. Both of us sick with fevers. At the hospital a local preacher told a family in the church about us. They decided we were "cute" and took us home. They became our permanent foster family. With me having a heart condition, fully adopting us would mean they would have to pay for my surgery. So this was a better deal for them. I know it all sounds cold and love less...its because it was. There were good times and bad times growing up in this family. But I would have to say the bad outweighed the good. For the 13 years I lived there I would be sexually abused by the foster father most nights. Knowing I came from an abusive past, he decided to continue that in my life. And for me back then...there was no speaking out. There was no one I could tell. Because after living through numerous foster homes, we were finally in a place we could stay, and I couldn't speak up and ruin that for my brother who was loving his life there. Life was easier for him there. He no longer had to be the protector of me...or for himself. He endured years of abuse at the hand of our mother and father. He was the one at age 5 and younger who would run down the street, blocks away to the police station when our drunk father would come and argue and fight with our drunk mother. Plus life for me was better there then where we had been so you learn to adapt. I learned to become someone else to survive. I was a completely different person at school. I thrived at school, I longed to be at school, don't get me wrong when I say I thrived at school, it doesn't me I thrived IN school. I was an average student, only was on honor roll my senior year for one semester because I had easy classes. Art being one of them. School is where I felt safe. Where I had friends who cared for me, who protected me, I didn't have that at home. To this day, my class means the world to me. Art was my outlet I was always drawing, In third grade we read a book called , "A Cricket in Time Square" I believe it was called. And while we read through that book I had been obsessed with drawing floor plans for houses. So I would take a piece of paper while the teacher read and I would draw up a floor plan of a house for the cricket we were reading about! We did mini courses each year, from making milk carton candles , leather belts, and camping in the mountains. (I grew up in Montana) I did any type of art class I could do. I was lucky in the fact that my foster mother was artistic and spent her every waking hours either sewing, quilting, painting etc. But while she did that, we usually had to do the cooking and the cleaning. She would sew us clothes and she would say , "if you want me to sew clothes for you then you are going to have to pick up the slack and get the cleaning and cooking done. Well, I really hated her sewing my clothes. I would of rather had store bought. But it was just her excuse to do what she wanted than do than work. I learned to cook from a very young age. I would lock myself in the bathroom for hours and clean . I would clean out the whole kitchen. My room was always clean and everything in its place, bed made right after getting out of bed.  It was expected. When we weren't expected to work,(which was rare as we had to clean churches, library, school,court house, all through my growing up years) I would be in my room drawing, dreaming. Art was always my go to, my escape. It still is. Except when the world gets me down sometimes..My boys are all grown and have moved away. I have my 13 year old daughter still home,which helps. More than art my kids mean the world to me. With the way I grew up a family was important to me. Having a sense of family, belonging, being apart of something real and true. They make my life complete. So when my boys grew up and moved away, my heart slowly broke, and it aches for them. I feel like i'm not whole. Someday's art helps mend my broken heart, someday's I'm a mess. I have two grandsons now as well and I long to be with them and watch them grow. We live in a community that is not very friendly to outsiders. We have lived here for 8.5 and are still considered outsiders.  We just want to move out of state to be closer to out sons and grandsons. It just seems to be taking too long to work out so we can. So I keep praying that God will work it all out for us soon. Please pray as well ,as most days I don't even want to get out of bed. Thanks for listening.