It is like I am slowly waking up to a world that feels like mine again. A world where I’m not a guest in my own life, where I am not owned by a man’s will to control or manipulate, a world where I don’t have to be perfect for anyone, not even to myself. I am perfect in every moment, with all my flaws and truths.

I am painting again. I’m not very excited by the fact that I’m finally painting again after all the years of self doubt, blockages and mentally paralysis. It just feels so natural. Like coming home. I’m not even that rusty or artistically in bad shape – but I do get tired easily, almost exhausted, after only a couple of hours of working.

And my head is full of new ideas! They are mostly slightly perverse or at least sexually bizarre. I am dealing with things that happened to me, things that’s been haunting me for a long time. It’s time to get rid of it, and using my art as a place for it to find peace at last. A place to put the humiliation, the pain and the rage at rest. All the forbidden feelings. Or at least, emotions that I don’t welcome into my life. I am not wallowing in self-pity anymore – I’m letting go and moving on. I have to face the victim in me, through my art and recognize that it’s not who I am anymore. I will say goodbye to the Lolita, who was the perfect marionette doll to the men who wanted to feel stronger, more powerful or better than me. I will not seek vengeance through my art, but closure and reclaim my self-value and power.

By just being everything I am.