You Can Fool Yourself But You Can't Fool Sisters

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 only 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’d like you to meet Winona and Irma. These sisters don’t hold back, they’re the ones that leave that gut-punch feeling after you’ve agreed to something you know you don’t want to do.

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.

What did you say yes to recently that you did not want to?