In the span of thirteen months I met my husband, got married, became a first-time homeowner and a new mom. A lot was going on in a short amount of time —and I was tired throughout much of it.
Motherhood was fulfilling but marriage was not. My emotional needs were not being met. And I, being a veteran of this situation, knew exactly what to do: bury my needs. I felt neglected.
A few years later, when my new life became more settled and routine, I had a bit of time to create. Since I had not yet begun resisting my creative urges, I welcomed the creative time. Small crucifixes emerged — women nailed to a cross encased in wire or a stocking. I realized a chrysalis was taking shape, a space between what I needed and what I wasn't getting.
I believed my chrysalis held the promise of a miracle: that somehow, someway, someday my loneliness would be transformed into a union of shared emotional intimacy: a space where my genuine, unmasked self is honored and cared for.
