I am a child watching my mother stress over the colours she uses to paint. She demands perfection in every stroke and motion. It stresses and upsets her. I am her child. I am not controllable nor controlled, I behave as per my own free will. This is more stressful. What will people say?
I am a child, I wish my mother would give me some attention and the love I *know* she has somewhere inside of her for me. She must, right? I am her own flesh and blood. Why would she reject me?
So I painted her a garden of vividity against black and white. I penned a note asking her to let her colours bleed all over the white sheets of paper and make some messy but achingly beautiful art.
She is my mother and she has a beautiful mind. May be it is difficult to express her feelings but I would like to know them, share them even, if she would let me in.
Whether she is as desperate as me for someone to say, "yes, I see you, I accept you, I understand, maybe not fully but enough to know that the colours that bleed from your soul are so painfully beautiful that not everyone cam handle it, maybe even I can't but I still see it, I feel you, I love you."
: For all the mothers struggling with depression, your children do not hate you.
