When I began painting the different parts of myself, I wasn't trying to understand or change them. I wanted to give them space.
They Are All Me
I have often found it difficult to understand how I can want two opposite things at once. I can long for closeness and still feel the need to protect myself. I can be confident in one moment and uncertain in the next. Sometimes, these contradictions make me question myself, as though there must be one version of me that is more real than all the others.
From an early age, we learn what helps us feel safe, accepted, and loved. Perhaps we become the strong one because we don't know whom we can lean on. Perhaps we learn to stay quiet to avoid conflict, or to put others first because expressing our own needs feels risky. Within our families, we gradually find ways to relate to one another. We take on roles, adapt to difficulties, and learn responses that help us cope with what is happening around us. These patterns are simply the ways we learn to get through life.
Yet what once helped us feel safe can remain with us long after our circumstances have changed. We may become so accustomed to being responsible, agreeable, or strong that we begin to believe this is all we are. Other parts of us may remain quieter, less familiar, or difficult to express.
I also wonder how much of ourselves we spend trying to maintain the person we believe we should be. One part of us may want to move forward while another is afraid. We may keep going when we are tired, silence feelings that seem inconvenient, or put aside our own needs to keep others happy. When one way of responding becomes so familiar that it takes over, we can lose touch with other things we feel or need. We may appear to be managing everything while feeling divided inside. Perhaps things begin to change when we become curious about these reactions instead of immediately trying to get rid of them.
I am learning that understanding a feeling doesn't mean I have to follow it. I can acknowledge anger without hurting someone, recognise fear without allowing it to make every decision, and take responsibility for my choices without denying the experiences that shaped me. Some parts of ourselves may need understanding, others may need boundaries, and some may simply need time before we can recognise them.
For me, acceptance is not about liking everything I find within myself or deciding that nothing needs to change. It is about no longer believing that the parts I struggle with make me any less worthy of acceptance. I can learn from my past without allowing it to determine everything about my future. I can change without rejecting the person I have been.
When I look at the colours in this painting, I see different feelings and experiences. Some stand out more than others; some are quieter, and some I am still learning to accept. They don't need to be identical or fit neatly together. Each has its place. Perhaps wholeness is not about becoming a single version of ourselves. Perhaps it is about making room for what we carry, understanding it a little more, and allowing ourselves to grow.