Gingerbread Me

How would you describe symbolically through colors and
symbols your wellbeing? Create a figure by drawing an outline
of who you are. Fill in with colors and symbols.
—"Spiritual Wellbeing"

Gingerbread Me? A Gingerbread Girl.
Her dress is a conscious choice,
my indicator: I am Woman and I am
a woman. I am a female who savors
long and layered cotton skirts. I am
enchanted by free-flowing movement,
the caress of softly swishing fabric.

The neon-crisp Grinch-green highlighter
is a most intriguing selection. Why didn't
I choose Gingerbread brown?

Since childhood, the fictional
character clenched most tightly
within me is The Grinch.

I attempt to give the Green Me some hair, floppy-pointy Grinch-like hair. The result is not what I'd hoped for artistically. It reminds me to share imperfection, the crumby broken gingerbread pieces of me, hurts mended together by icing.

Eyes. Open. Brown eyes. Big brown eyes. I mindfully consider the placement of the lashes, elect peripheral vision.

I choose to look slightly left

rather than face

straight on

my portrait-creator.

My politics, too, are quite a bit left of center. I am learning tolerance, moving toward seeing both sides. One day I will simply look up, politically disconnect altogether, give allegiance to my Creator.

Next is a small and simple heart.

A quick pink outline in the traditional location, following those rules of anatomy.

Thinking about The Grinch and the growth of his heart, I add layers of color and outlines of time.

In Whoville they say
that The Grinch's small heart
grew three sizes that day.

I find the pink marker, fill the emptiness at the center of my heart.

Hair. Long brown hair, shoulder length,
the way I see myself in this life.

Gray bangs for the current me,
the woman in her 'wisdom' years.

Who is this gray-haired woman?
I am not used to seeing her. Yet.

Sometimes, catching my reflection in
the passenger side mirror of our Jeep,
I am startled by my almond blossom hair.

Hands.

Arms open, in motion. I hug people often.

I just recently discovered that people exist who prefer not to be hugged.
Perhaps I hug people too often?
I may need to ask hug-permission?

A rule of anatomy, five fingers on each side, leaves my open and ready hands looking like stiffly awkward appendages.

Glancing at the drawings of my classmates, I am aware there is no mouth on Green Me and that a mouth exists in Me.

I find the green highlighter, swish a smile broken. A mouth with a gap.

After decades of causing hurt with my cruel words, I am trying to do better, hanging in the gap for a moment,
thinking before I speak.

No shoes. This is intentional.

I am often un-pedicured and barefoot beneath my feminine flowing skirts.

Time is up. I share my drawing with my classmates.

The woman on my right responds, "You have a beautiful heart!"

My brown eyes brim with tears.

Rw
.

Animation Credit The Grinch

"Emotional Wellbeing" part of Mental Health and Substance Abuse Curriculum for Laity, copyright 2011