This post was from seven years ago when I made the move from Wix to WordPress. I was going to hunt down my very first post from two years before but this caught my eye. It is updated.
One way I spent the summer of 2017 was doing house projects—including painting the family room. It turned out to be a healing experience for me.
It started as a modest project of painting the family room blue. I left the painted wood wall for last. Should I paint it blue, too—or lightly sand it, I wondered? That didn’t turn out to be a simple question.
Thirty-four years ago, it was a lovely wooden wall. My husband had installed a nice oak floor that matched the wooden cabinets in that room. I like the look of natural wood, but I also enjoy the look of wood with a light coat of white paint (where the grain shows through).
After getting my then two young daughters off to school, I felt compelled to paint this room. That day it was too woody. How hard could it be to make the wood look like I envisioned it in my head. With no research, I ended up with a wall covered in paint and no wood grain to be found. My patient husband expressed surprise when he came home from work.
You see, the night before, I’d had my third miscarriage. My way to deal with emotional pain is to get busy. So, I painted and covered up that beautiful wooden wall.
We lived with it until the summer of 2017. Again, I just jumped right in and started sanding the paint off. I started with the distressed look. I tried to like it, but I didn’t. So, I got to work and sanded all the paint off that section of the wall. There was the wood I remembered from years ago peeking out of the white. Determined, I got to work with my little circular sander. It took all my strength to hold it up and push against the wall to chip away at the white paint, but it was happening bit by bit.
My husband came home from work—and stared at the wall. He realized the work we had ahead. He went into the garage and returned with his heavy-duty sander. The paint came off faster with the heavier sander and paper, but it was also heavier to hold up. My arms ached at the end of each day, but my husband would take over when he got home from work. We continued this for several long days into the next weekend.
The family room was off-limits during this time, with sheets hung up to prevent the dust from spreading throughout the house. Each day, the mess would be cleaned up.
Finally, on a Sunday morning, my husband wearily pronounced he was through. He declared this was a project he never wanted to do again—I agreed. All we had left to do was the cleanup and painting of the trim and ceiling. Even with my best efforts, the dust made it throughout the house. Clean up was a whole other project I focused on, while he finished up the painting.
Now, we have a beautiful room and I have the closure needed from some painful experiences. The time came to sand all of that paint away and bring back the beauty again. Writing a memoir that year had helped me see some patterns in my life and let them go—finally. I sanded away what had been buried inside me all these years by painting over a wall.
That summer back in the early 90s expunged and exposed the possibilities that life offers—including the soon to be surprise birth of a son who’s going to be 30 years old this year.
I recently pulled my memoir off the market with the intention to rewrite it in the future. For now though, I feel lucky with the journey writing has taken me.
How about you? Has writing helped you?
Embrace your inner child! D. L. Finn
That wall represents so much. I’m glad it’s back to being natural wood again. xo
It does represent a lot, Darlene. I am glad it is back to its normal state 🙂
Thank you for sharing your experience, Denise. It was painful to have a miscarriage. You just wanted to cover the pain. I’m glad you were ready to see the natural color again.
Thanks, Miriam 🙂 it was good to finally remove that pain layer by layer and see life’s beauty under it. Xo
Isn’t it the truth, Denise? 🙂
HI Denise, what an enormous amount of work you undertook. I see your husband is quiet saintly about your artistic temperament – just like mine.
It was a lot of work. I tend to jump into something and find that out as I go. Yes, very saintly at times, we are lucky! Xo
Indeed, we are. I do the same thing.
That is quite a moving story with so many underlying emotions. Thanks for sharing it.
Thanks, Craig 🙂 It brought so much full circle to heal.
The project sounds tiring — but rich with meaning. As does writing the memoir. And I agree: we develop patterns of behavior, and it takes pausing and looking back to see those. 🌞
It was very a tiring project with a beautiful outcome we enjoy daily, along with my emotional one. Yes, those moments we can pause and reflect those patterns do emerge, Dave.
I know what you mean about writing helping a person. For me, it’s a way of dumping feelings onto paper (most which never ends up in a story) and clarifying my thoughts.
Writing is a safe place to dump those feelings and make some sense of them. Yes, most of it never gets seen but it’s very healing, Priscilla.
I love this look back since it gives you an opportunity to see how far you have come. The wall is a monument to your pain, joy, and relationship with your husband.
Thanks, John 🙂 I have come far but still have the rest of that hill to climb. It is great to have that daily reminder in not only the wall, but in words written.
So true.
Wow, Denise! What a powerful, personal story. You really went on an emotional journey of healing. This was a lovely post.
Thank you, Mae 🙂 It was a powerful journey that finally ended in that house project. Such a healing moment.
Ah, the joys of home ownership! 😊
Never ending, Timothy on many levels.
A really good way of working (literally) yourself through a difficult time. I shared your emotions when my IVF failed. Told on Easter Sunday. So now I have a great 40 year old son we adopted when he was three days old.
Keeping busy is my first response to any worry or emotional pain. Painting covers up the imperfections and sanding exposes them again. I am sorry you know that pain and what a day to be told, Noelle. But, you had a great outcome and blessing, too, to adopt your son after!
What a story! And I see why you love your husband. He’s a keeper.
It was one of those life moments, Jacqui:) He is definitely a keeper and we will be married 41 years in June!
Yes, that’s how I deal with emotional trauma and stress, with writing and staying busy.
It’s a good way to slowly process things isn’t it, Dawn?
I love this story! The wall is such a great analogy: the painting, the un-painting, and exposing the beauty of the natural wood, all show your transformation into the woman you’ve become, Denise. 💖
Thanks, Colleen 🙂 Our beauty is just under the heavy surface we painted. A huge lesson this round.
Oh, yes. I’ve been there too. I know how this goes.
Since you already know I started this writing journey with a true story that had to be told, I think that’s your answer. I love how the sanding, painting, sanding and clean up was so therapeutic. Sometimes we don’t even know what we need. Love this, Denise! Thank you for sharing.
I’m so happy you started your writing journey to not only tell a story that needed to be told but explore your writing talent too! I agree sometimes we don’t always know what we need but are usually guided there. xo
When I started reading your post. and looked at the photos, the first thing I thought was that someone in the future would want the paint taken off that wall.
Great insight, Liz. That paint definitely needed to come off!
It seems that it was a big project. “He declared this was a project he never wanted to do again—I agreed.” I remember helping my dad build a summer house when I was young. It took years. I’ve never used Wix. I am curious about the difference.
I can imagine building a summer house would take years, Thomas! I was a while ago I used Wix and they didn’t have all the things WordPress offered. I would imagine now they have caught up.
Writing is so therapeutic Denise! It absorbs all the emotions and aches. Thanks for sharing your experiences.
It really is, Balroop 🙂 It allows us to let out things we normally might not do. xo
Thank you for sharing this heartfelt post, Denise.
It is a lesson of full circle we all deal with art some point, Mark.
Thanks for sharing your story, Denise, and I’m sorry to hear about your miscarriage, but happy to hear about your son’s surprise birth also. I do the same. I have to distract my mind by keeping busy. I understand the need to paint because I’ve done it a million times in our house. Funny thing is, our walls inside are mahogany which is beautiful but makes the house dark. When we sell in a few years, our friend who is a realtor suggested painting over them with white to brighten up the rooms. 🙂 We’ve always loved the wood, but I can see his point too, and new buyers are a different group than years ago. So, we shall see. But I think if we do, we’ll hire professionals. xoxo
Thank you, Lauren:) I couldn’t imagine not keeping busy, seems to be a common way to deal with stressful situations. I do like to paint too and love color. We have dark wood, redwood, in our bathroom that I wouldn’t want to paint over too. They did paint my mother’s dark paneling before selling the house to lighten it up. I figure people will want yo redo a house they way they want, including my crazy colors. .lol
I’m sorry about the miscarriages. (Something else we have in common) Is that a green couch I spy?
Thanks for sharing.
scoxoxo
Sorry you dealt with that too 🙁 it’s blue. My ocean themed room.
Thought it was green and immediately thought of Silence:)
Lol… need a green couch now
I think Mae nailed it with the emotional journey of healing, Denise. You and your husband also have the patience of a saint stripping that paint off the wall, lol.
Yes, definitely an emotional journey come full circle, Teri. Stripping paint is not a job I’d like to have, that is for sure 🙂
I’m so glad you shared this again, Denise. I was so moved by the emotion you captured in the painted over and then stripped and renewed wall. What an apt (physical) metaphor for the hard process of healing. I learn a lot about myself through writing, mostly through journaling, but my characters often teach me things about life too. Beautiful post.
Wishing you an amazing weekend.
scoxo
Thanks for sharing that heartfelt story with us Denise. Eventually we need to strip off layers so we can breathe new life.<3
Yes, at some point those layers of protection do us no good. xo
We must unpeel the layers carefully, and in our own time. <3
What a beautiful story, Denise. Having had several miscarriages, I can relate to your pain. {{{hugs}}}
Gorgeous wood wall!
Thank you, Sue. Sorry you had to deal with that, too, and the pain with it. Yes, I enjoy this wall now that it is natural wood again. Xo
Such a touching story, Denise. Filled with pain, persistence, love and beauty.
Thank you, Carol 🙂 I love how life manages to take us full circle interesting ways.