For one of the workshops at 21 Secrets, we were tasked with writing a bio. Here’s mine:
Let me see. . . What can I tell you about me? I’m a 59 year old American woman named Trece.
I deserve a medal for staying married to the same man (for whom I do not feel love) for what will be 34 years in June. And I’ve not broken my vows. Ever.
I had 3 daughters via C-section, though I planned for homebirths. I nursed them all to age 5 and then homeschooled them to age 18. They are the joy of my life, and break my heart daily.
I really don’t like my father (I daren’t say hate). I am waiting for him to die. Then I will be free, and hopefully I’ll inherit some money. Now THAT will free me, indeed.
I’ve had a varied career trying to make money. I’ve been a crafter, sold books, had a preemie clothes business and worked in health insurance.
I took my degree in Theatre because it was fun, and English because I like to read.
I lived abroad for a year, as a teenager.
I am trying on the idea of me as an artist, particularly an Art Journaler.
I have kept journals for 45 years. Sadly, I’ve destroyed most of them. Too much pain and too many things I didn’t want others to know.
I know how to sew (It’s funny. When I wrote this out by hand, I wrote “see”. Hmm. . .) and have 2 good machines. But I don’t sew anymore. I also know how to knit and crochet.
I want to make soap again. As a business. . .
I am aching to find something (besides Jesus) to make my life worth living.
After that, I wrote this:
I am pain.
I am a human doing, not a human being.
If it weren’t for my boxes (the limits that ‘describe’ me), I fear I wouldn’t BE, that I – my essence – would just blow away on the wind, like dust.
After I watched part of one of the class videos, I had to sit with these words:
“As I begin writing, there are absolutely no limits. I become the very thing I love”.
Well, what I love is the ocean. I pondered my feeling of being blown away like dust. In my art, that would translate as glitter, since the glitter I have looks (in its bottle) like sand. But as I thought about becoming what I love, I thought of seafoam. It too, disappears in the wind. Which made me think of Hans Christian Anderson’s Little Mermaid. She sacrificed her SELF – her actual existence – for what – actually WHO – she loved. In the end, she became seafoam.
I think that’s what I’ve done with my life. When I met my hsband, I ceased to be ME. I became instead my imaginings of a “good wife”. My hope now is that I will be able to find my way back to me. I guess that’s why I joined 21 Secrets.