Born an Artist by Aussie Share Your Story contest entry |
Just as the war in the Pacific ended in 1945, I was born in Sydney. Growing up in Sydney I was a total rebel, I hated school and I couldn't wait to leave. Mother was at her wit's end trying to keep me tethered to reality. My father understood, he was a cartoonist.
At age fifteen I found my tether. Mother approached my soon-to-be boss, and told him I was artistic. And so I worked at a design studio converting designs to paper for three years. I had a good grounding in mixing colours and working on graph paper. My life had taken a turn for the better. The years passed and soon I was restless again. Mother was horrified when I applied to be a bus conductress! I love people; six years on the buses brought to me a man who loved me so much, we married in 1969. In hindsight, I just wanted to escape home! He loved me too much, I in turn just needed a friend. His real nature surfaced and it wasn't good. Six months into the marriage disaster struck. I grew up in a family that did not drink alcohol. Unknown to me at age twenty-four, I had married a hardened drinker. He was abusive and tried to own me. I stuck it out until I couldn't take it anymore. After seeing an ad in the paper asking for nurses I was employed the next day. A new chapter, a rewarding time in my life journey. I nursed for six years and found myself drawn to disabled people. During this time I was still dabbling in paint. I spent many happy hours teaching disabled kids how to work with colours. I left nursing to become a supervisor in a sheltered workshop. One day on my way home from work on my motorcycle, I was hit by a car, critically injured and spent three months in hospital. These were very dark days, eventually, the left leg was amputated as the injuries were too severe. My faith was sorely tested. I met a Priest who visited my room whenever he could. Together we prayed for those less fortunate on the wards. I left hospital with renewed faith, humility and hope for the future. I worked hard in rehab and three months after the operation I walked in a temporary leg. It was a life-changing experience. To start over and be a disabled person was so hard. The Government compensation finally came through after three years. It helped but it didn't make up for my happy, previous life. I was down but not out. My next adventure was to start a riding school and so I bought eight horses. I soon realised I was too crippled to care for them and the drought had made it so expensive to feed them. Another idea came to me, I would start a branch of Riding for the Disabled. After donating my horses, our new branch flourished. I was riding again. My art career was put on hold. Being involved with disabled kids was a healing tonic for my emotional self. Being on the back of a horse is so wonderful, you are an able bodied person again. I was even able to take part in an endurance ride and won a medal. I was beaming from ear to ear. When the branch was finally on its feet and there was so many disabled kids having a great time - it was time for me to move on. I bought a house in a little country town. My partner had died and I needed time to be by myself and hopefully get back to my first love, painting. The sweet little town needed an art gallery. And so I put an ad in the local paper for those interesting in learning how to draw and paint. Starting off with three people, it grew steadily and today (twenty-six years on) it is still going and growing. Surrounded by like-minded people, I was healing emotionally. Arts and crafts are a wonderful way of shutting out pain and emotional suffering. You can sit down and feel sorry for yourself or you can get up and try. I have always tried to do my best for others. During the time spent in the country I took to completing diplomas in writing and I was asked to teach painting. Every weekend I taught workshops and was involved in teaching the art of painting with pastels. I am now complete in so many ways. My art is flourishing and my writing of poems and short stories on fanstory keeps my brain quiet. I own my disability, it doesn't own me. Laugh and the world laughs with you, cry and you cry alone.
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