This week an email was sent to me and my colleagues asking us if we would like to share our bucket lists. This piqued my interest for a moment, and then I felt like sobbing. I couldn’t think of anything at all. 

I’ve had a rich life. I’ve travelled, had kids, lived in many places, eaten at interesting places. I have already been privileged to have experience many of the things that go on a bucket list. I’ve had my adventures. I’m in my quiet years now, and that is fine. But lately I worry that the only thing I have to look forward to is brushing my teeth and doing the dishes. 

I have a sort of “workout” I do. I get some tempera paints and big cheap paper set up, put on some music and do some movement, and then I paint intuitively. 

Actually, I really hate it. It is not artistic bliss. I usually hate the paintings that result from the process, I don’t really like painting with tempera paints, and I don’t like painting large.  

Painting that way pisses me off. But here are five reasons why I do it anyway. 

It forces a conversation with my inner critic.

And by conversation, I mean a dysfunctional one in which I ignore what the Critic is saying, or agree with it pathetically, or argue with it and feel angry and defensive. It’s a confrontation that allows me to externalize the voice and be more objective about what it is saying.

I saw this comic the other day, and loved it. I often confuse my introversion for depression. I have not set up my life to support my introversion. I am a teacher, a parent and I have an extrovert partner.   When I get overwhelmed and need to recharge, I often fail to recognize my need for alone time, and […]