You Can Fool Yourself
But You Can't Fool Your Sister
I thought I was in control of my life - until the consequences of my most questionable decisions proved otherwise.
And even though I’m still dealing with the fallout of some of those choices, I wouldn’t change a thing - I’m afraid if I did, I might not experience all the joy or have the people I love most in this world in my life. Yet, intertwined with my joy is a deep well of anger, resentment, and sadness that I’ve come to know as grief.
Grief led me back to painting. At first, I didn’t understand why - I on;y knew that while I was in front of my easel life felt a little less overwhelming. I had never grieved before, I had no idea that I had never allowed myself. But it had shown up and it wasn’t going anywhere.
I spent hours painting - mostly women’s faces - and I began to wonder if it was just another way to avoid all the chaos. But over time, something shifted. I began to look more closely at the women I painted and saw a bigger picture -
They weren’t random. They were reflections.
I’m a master multi-tasker - while I painted I also criticized myself for wasting time and picked apart everything I created. But for some reason, I kept showing up, it was like a drug.
Then one day, I saw her on my canvas - a girl who cared too much about what others thought, whose self-worth depended on outside approval.
She was me.
I laid out my other paintings and I saw it - they each embodied a trait I had been shamed for, the parts of myself that had been criticized, dismissed, or silenced. I decided to give each one a name and thought about when and how they had shown up in my life so I could write their stories.
I knew them because they were part of me - but not all of me.
I now call them my Inner-Sisters. They had held me up and moved me forward all my life. But now, my grief is heavier than they are, and they can no longer carry me. I’ve landed here, it’s unexpected and new and I am working on discovering my own story of me.
Every woman’s story is her own. I share mine as a white, Gen X woman who’s spent a lifetime collecting coping mechanisms - some helpful, many harmful. But along the way I discovered something powerful: I have a voice and I just need to learn to trust it.
Lizzie, this is so beautiful. I love and relate to every word you wrote. Instead of painting, I kept coming back to writing; and it too began to feel like a reflection and even though I am good at wearing a mask, all I could see and feel was shame, and because of that, I stopped writing. You have inspired me to write again. I am so glad you are doing this - keep it up because I have no doubt that this will be so helpful to so many women who don't know other people feel the same way they do, and don't know how to put it into words. And what have I said yes to recently that I did not want to do ? LOL - we can talk about that over wine! Love you, Lizzie so much, and so glad to know you! xoxo You are my secret sister always