The Weight of Secrets

  “For our captors demanded a song from us. Our tormentors insisted on a joyful hymn: “Sing us one of the songs of Jerusalem!” But how can we sing songs of the Lord while in a pagan land?” Psalm 137:3-4

 

  Today’s art is special to me. The graphic figure of the kneeling, pregnant woman is one I used back in 2011. She was paramount in being able to break down the insurmountable grief that was choking my ability to articulate how I felt. She helped encapsulate the different facets of personal pain, breaking it down into somewhat manageable pieces. I spent about three months on that journey, producing a dozen or so images. It is unlikely they will be shared because the images are all deeply personal.

  Following the last blog, I felt led to resurrect her. This time it’s different. This time she is meant to be shared.

  A friend asked me to explain what it was all about so I thought I should explain to you, dear readers, what the significance is of the various elements.

  First and foremost is the fact she is pregnant. I felt it was representative of one of the fundamental aspects of being a woman. We are carriers but first have to be the receivers. For our womb to be filled, it takes two. Using the womb to contain an image of what she is carrying is an opportunity to voice the other mental, emotional and physical burdens we bear. Her pregnancy is a result of toxic interactions which created the pain in the first place.  

  It’s important to add I feel this is a huge part of being a women and why many of us who have experienced abuse wait so long to disclose it. It’s one of the key pieces of how God designed us. It’s humanity that twisted this beautiful gift.

  The weight brings us to our knees. Kneeling is also a pose of supplication before God. Her kneeling image is inviting Him into the pain of her terrible burden.

  The red dragon in the background is added because the dragon represents how pain has teeth and claws. They are dipped in the poison of shame and guilt and false responsibility. Christians might also view the dragon as a representation of demonic forces and influences. They are a huge part of the battle we wage.

  It’s no wonder she is weeping.

  The silver and black outline represents containment and illustrates how we end up trapped in our pain especially in instances of sexual or physical abuse. We end up trapped by a conspiracy of silence for untold reasons.

  As I painted the “SHHHHing” man, my tears flowed down. This time it’s different because while the tears poured out for my own experiences, they also rained down for all the other women coming forward through www.hagarsvoice.com. As I wept, I realized resurrecting this image is not just for my own benefit, it is an opportunity to visually voice the corporate grief of my sisters: the women joined together by trauma, abuse and secrecy.

 

  To end on a positive note, God has silenced the nasty little voice, my own red dragon, that insists on telling me I should be “over it” by now.

  I was one of the silent women who carried secrets my entire life. I was in my mid 40’s before starting to talk about what had happened to me. (Smile) Just unraveling the pain of my marriage is taking a long time simply because all of my experiences have interwoven emotional connections. It’s complicated beyond belief. I am only 57.

  There have also been huge triggers lately. Triggers don’t just stir up the memories of events because our bodies remember and our heart does, too.

  I have no idea if I will ever be “over it” until God takes me home and wipes away every tear from my face. I believe all the ugly stuff can be redeemed here on earth regardless of the sorrow it stirs up in my soul.

  If art is part of that redemption, I am deeply grateful and honoured to hold God’s paintbrush.