Purple hued cheeks
Little Emma used to pour her whole being through paint onto paper, coloring her beaming cheeks with hues of deep purple and bold red. Or at least the photos claim. One resides in a photo album from when I was about five years old, overflowing with luminance as my blonde waves cascaded around my peachy cheeks. Smiling so huge my jaw must’ve ached afterward, I hold a mediocrely painted piece of wispy white paper. I’m so filled with pride that I could’ve burst. Fast forward to elementary school where I recall ripping apart painting after painting, steaming with frustration and flooded with defeat. The kind that rumbles throughout your being like a pot of water left to boil for too long, the water seeping onto the floor below. Something somewhere along the way led me to believe that creation had to embody perfection in order to be worthy. Or maybe it was a string of events or a concoction of comments- the perfect storm of adversity to feed the perfection beast thriving in my pre-teen chest. Over the years I’ve been able to squash that demon but there’s been times that it’s reared it’s ugly head again. About 7 months ago after something happened that silenced me in ways I didn’t think were possible, I caught a glimpse of elementary school Emma. Only this time I was ripping apart, figuratively, my writing. Sometimes traumatic events can trigger self doubt and even the gut- wrenching feeling of losing a part of yourself. Every time I would start to write something I’d get a few words in and erase it all, shoving my device away and going back to checking e-mails or doing chores. I was so scared of not producing something perfect that I wouldn’t produce at all. Today, I decide to break the cycle. It’s been 7 months since I’ve really sat down to do any non-collegiate writing and I’m thrilled to be back. Throughout adult life we’re pushed into a pattern of forced reliability that rarely fails to give us reprieve unless we’re eating, sleeping, or vacationing. Sometimes that can transform into denying ourselves one of the most precious gifts- to create, express, and be whole heartedly. Now this is more of a thoughts-pouring-onto-paper post more than anything, but it’ll pave the way for free flowing vibrancy when the moment is right. Has your inner cheek stained, beaming self been silenced? In what ways can you bring her or him back today?
