Sometimes It Doesn't Take Much To Break Your Heart

When I was living with my parents we had a lot of good talks. I mean, we've always had good talks, there were just more opportunities for them when I was back sharing the same roof.

And I think it was probably the first time I lived with them as an adult. (The time I moved back home after a relationship ended, I didn't feel like an adult, even though my driver's license said I was one.) And I have a few more things figured out, and the things I don't have figured out, I have an idea about.

One of the things we talked about was the past; where we used to live, being a child, how I felt when I was growing up.

Something I tried to articulate was how I never valued the things I was good at when I was growing up. And how this wasn't through poor parenting, or any fault of theirs, just the circumstances.

I was visiting with my parents the other day and we got to talking about my dance, and some of the accomplishments I had with that and how I still struggle a little to feel proud of those accomplishments when I compare them to my brother and all the things he excelled at.

There was a pause in the conversation and my Mom looked up at me and said "you know, if you go back to do your PhD, you should do it in Fine Arts."

And my heart broke. Because I wish we'd been able to have that conversation twenty years ago.

I wish I'd believed that the arts were valuable.

And I wish I'd believed in myself.

And I wish I'd gone down that path and chased that dream.

But perhaps I wasn't ready.

I certainly didn't have the inner strength or conviction for the criticism that comes along with being a creative person.

I'm closer to having that now.

Now I just have to sit with that thought for a while.