Where is the number for my shrink?

I got a couple of magazines in the mail this week. The cover of “the Artist’s magazine” for April makes me want to cry. It makes me so depressed. Because it is such a beautiful image. It is an oil painting of a beautiful woman, very captivating, by Casey Baugh, an artist my daughter’s age. The kind of painting I have always thought I would do….eventually.

I need therapy.

The reason it depresses me is that I could have been doing that kind of art for the last 30 years and I didn’t. I can start now. But I really feel the shortness of time. At best I have 10, 15, 20 or 25 years. Maybe that’s enough. I could blame it on someone other than myself. Well, others did influence me. Or, rather, not support me. Back in college. I did not have a lot of supporters. And I didn’t have the… whatever… it takes, to go on anyway because it was something I loved.

My mother sure as hell did not support me. I give her credit for one thing, she let me go for my degree in art and not push me to do business or something. She determined in her own mind a degree in art was better than no degree at all. And in those days, it really was kind of true. Any college degree opened doors. But no sooner did I graduate with my Bachelor’s in Art, then she was after me to take the civil service exam and get a job with the government. And I did. And of course, there was Skip. My first husband made one memorable comment, “Artists all have these little egos.” No support. And, finally, there was Marvin Klavin, one of my college painting instructors. Who said, if you’re going to paint like that why not just take a photo? I think I cut that class the rest of the semester.

But, really, the blame is all mine. OK, what would my shrink have said? What does my husband say? Jon says, you had your children. Since you raised them as a single woman you had a job that allowed you to do that. You had the freedom to take off for school plays, when a child was sick. And a steady paycheck.

I’d like to be a person with no regrets. Every thing that happened in the past made me the person I am right now. (And I do like myself, most of the time.) Gave me two beautiful children. And good, intelligent, beautiful children. And a husband that loves me dearly. A husband that wants me to paint. A husband that, surprisingly, lets me be just who I am. And loves me in spite of myself, exactly as I am. Not everybody gets one of those! I know from experience.

But, I do have regrets, and fears, and ANXIETY!

Where is that number for my shrink?

I have done a little work on a watercolor this week. I don’t love it. Everything I do right now is like an exercise.

Sigh………………………………..