Living between Art and Multiple Sclerosis
A canvas is rarely as blank as it seems. Even before the first intentional mark, there is often something already there.
An idea.
A feeling.
A color waiting to appear.
Sometimes a previous beginning leaves behind traces: a line that changed direction, a color that no longer feels right, and a layer once covered that never fully disappeared.
Still, the painting can continue. There is room for something new.
I think our lives can be like that, too.
We don’t always get to choose the surface we begin with.
We arrive here carrying experiences, relationships, choices, losses, discoveries, mistakes, joys, and all the small moments that have quietly shaped us along the way.
By the time we realize we want something different, there is already a story beneath us. But that doesn’t mean the story is finished.
The Next Layer Is Still Yours to Create
When I add another layer to a painting, I’m not declaring that everything underneath was wrong. I’m responding to what is already there.
Maybe a color needs more depth. Maybe a shape needs to change. Something unexpected might appear and alter my perception of the whole painting.
The next layer comes from the layers that came before it. But it isn’t limited to them.
That’s an important distinction.
Our past influences us, but it doesn’t have to become a blueprint for everything that comes next.
As a result, we can learn from what we’ve lived without remaining exactly where those experiences left us.
We can change our minds. Try something different. Begin again. Take a different direction.
Not because who we were was wrong, but because we are still becoming.
Growth Doesn’t Require Rejection
However, there is pressure to believe that becoming a better version of ourselves means leaving an older version behind.
Sometimes growth is presented as a clean break. New habits, new goals, and even new identity.
A completely new beginning.
But I’m not sure life works that way.
When I look at a painting, I don’t see each new layer as a rejection of the one beneath it.
The earlier layers are part of what makes the next one possible. Their colors influence what I place above them. Their texture changes the way the paint moves. Even the marks I thought I would cover completely can affect what eventually emerges.
Perhaps we can give ourselves that same grace.
It is possible to want more for ourselves without deeming that we are not enough. We can recognize something we want to change without turning that recognition into shame.
We can be proud of how far we’ve come and still know that there is somewhere else we want to go.
Those things can exist together.
You Don’t Have to Be Finished
A painting in progress doesn’t apologize for being unfinished. Additionally, it doesn’t look at itself and say, I’m not enough yet. Nevertheless, the painting simply continues.
There are days when I know exactly what I want to do next. At other times, I have no idea. I make a mark and see what happens.
Sometimes I love it. Sometimes I cover it. More often than not, that unexpected mark becomes the thing that leads the painting somewhere I never planned to go.
Perhaps there is something comforting in remembering that we can work this way, too. We don’t need complete certainty before taking the next step. We don’t need to know exactly who we will become before allowing ourselves to move in that direction.
A little curiosity can be enough.
A small decision can be enough.
One new layer can be enough.
Honoring Who You Are While Making Room for Who You’re Becoming
This may be the hardest balance of all.
To look at yourself honestly and say:
I like who I am.
And also:
There are things I want to explore, change, learn, or become.
Neither statement cancels the other.
You can appreciate the woman who brought you here without deciding that you have to remain exactly as she is.
One can acknowledge the strength required to arrive here while still desiring something different.
You can honor your story without allowing it to become a limit.
Maybe that is what growth can look like when we stop treating ourselves as a problem that needs to be fixed.
Not a rejection or an escape.
Not becoming someone else.
Just making room.
Create From Here
There will probably always be reasons to wait.
Until you feel ready.
Maybe, until you have more time.
Or until you feel more confident. Perhaps, until you know exactly what you’re doing.
But a canvas doesn’t need certainty before the next mark. It only needs a place for it.
Maybe we can give ourselves permission to begin from the same place. Not from the woman we think we should have been by now. Or, from the woman we used to be. Not from some imagined future version who finally has everything figured out.
From here.
From what you know today or what you’ve learned. Perhaps, from what still feels uncertain. Maybe, from the dreams that are beginning to take shape or, perhaps, from the parts of yourself you are still discovering.
This moment is already a surface you can create from.
And perhaps the question isn’t:
Who do I need to become before I can begin?
Perhaps it’s:
What can I create from who I am today?
A Small Invitation
Take a moment today to notice where you are.
Not where you think you should be or where you thought you would be.
Just here.
Then ask yourself:
What would I like to make room for?
It doesn’t have to be a life-changing answer.
Maybe it’s more creativity.
More rest.
A different way of working.
A relationship with yourself that feels kinder.
A dream you’ve been putting aside.
A new direction.
Or simply the permission to try something you’ve never tried before.
You don’t have to know what the finished picture will look like.
You only have to be willing to make the next mark.
And then see what comes after it.
From the Studio
Every time I return to a painting, I’m reminded that the next layer doesn’t have to compete with everything that came before. It simply adds something.
Sometimes that addition changes everything. Sometimes it is barely noticeable. Either way, the painting moves.
Maybe we can allow ourselves to move like that, too.
We don’t have to erase our history.
We don’t have to reject who we are today.
And we don’t have to stop growing.
We can honor the woman we are and still make room for the woman we are becoming.
The canvas is here.
The layers are here.
And there is still room for the next mark.
