For the LOVE of ART
Those Who Don’t Give Up
When I was young, I lived in a small apartment with my mom, dad, 4 brothers and 2 sisters. My childhood was very interesting. As a child, my health was never great. At age 6, I began receiving night terrors which I could never comprehend what was happening. But one thing was for sure. My mom would always be next to me, crying as she rubbed my head and repeating “Are you okay?”
The sole activity that would keep me calm as a child was art. My craftiness allowed me to have a lot of fun with simple everyday objects. We were never financially stable and couldn’t afford those “nice things.” It wasn’t a big concern because there was potential in the materials around me to create my own “nice things.” I found items around the house and glue them together. I broke down cardboard boxes to use as a canvas. It was fun and I was good at it, but I never forced myself to stick to one type of art. I wanted to experiment with everything.
My life became much more complicated when I turned 10. My family was evicted from our home. House to house, home to home, it felt like it would never end. I was unmotivated and couldn’t focus on my art. Then one night, my life went from bad to worse. As I fell asleep, I heard my mom’s voice screaming and crying. Not sure what had happened, I woke up the next day seeing my mom in
in tears. It wasn’t that simple. Taking a look around, I wasn’t home anymore…I was in the hospital. I was admitted the night before after experiencing my first seizure. My mom had to explain to the young me what had happened. I became scared and confused. I didn’t know at the time, that the hospital visits were to become a prevalent part of my life.
I lost all hope for a happy life until we found our new home. It gave me the comfort, protection, and inspiration to paint. Things were finally changing for the better. I made a lot of good friends as I entered high school, but my health continued to worsen. I felt drowsiness, dizziness, nausea, headaches and much more. My sweet sixteen may not have been so sweet. It was the same day a lot of my friends were moving away. Our birthday/going-away party was the most intense and emotional experience I had ever felt. That night I ended up having 5 seizures. It took me 2 whole days to regain consciousness. I cried a lot upon waking up because I knew my friends were
gone for good. I mustered up all my strength to go back into school and, at last, joined an art class. I met so many people with so many things in common with me and was able to find a whole new group of friends. Finding my best friend made me happy and at the same time calmed me down emotionally. We drew together every day and like typical young adults in high school, we passed papers to each other in class. But these weren’t notes, they were drawings and doodles. I left school when I was 18 because of my health. It was not the best choice I made, yet I wouldn’t be here telling my story if I haven’t. Regardless, I quickly became depressed. What do I do with my life? These words kept bringing me deeper and deeper into depression. I lost all hope once again. But one day, as I was lying down, I realized I was sick of what I was doing. I didn’t want to be useless. I wanted to be more than just THAT girl with health problems. So I decided to get up off my feet, save money, and start buying some new art materials.
BELLE