The Back Story Matters

Sometimes a piece of art speaks to me after it’s done.  Well really for me, it’s God speaking to me through my art.  This has only happened a few times and this is one of them (click HERE for the other time).

This piece is all about layers, seen and unseen, dark and light.  Can you already tell where I’m going with this?  Yes, we are all made of unique layers, some buried so deep we don’t even remember what they are, and some on top that we allow others to see.  And then there’s always a few unsightly layers, we work tirelessly to cover up, but our back stories are part of who we are, and they matter.  All of these things make up our back stories, and they matter.

In this post I’ll be getting deeply personal, but I feel it’s important to be vulnerable and share these stories as you never know who might need to hear this.

The Back Story

This piece is actually the story of my son.  My 16 year old son is coming home today after being at a Youth Center in Utah for 15 months.

When you see our family, you’ll see one snapshot of one day, one moment actually, and you’ll make a judgment in your mind about us.  We all do this automatically when we see people, we have thoughts about them and we make assumptions even when we are people who try hard to not be ‘judgy’.

BUT, here’s what you won’t see:

My son suffered severe neglect during the first 18 months of his life and then suffered another year and a half in the foster care system being moved in and out of  4 different homes.  When he came to us, we were his 5th foster home. This boy was hurting, scared, angry, and desperate to get control of any thread of his life he could.  He suffered heart breaking night terrors, difficulty with attachment (and can you blame him?!), and was far behind on verbal skills.  The lack of verbal skills meant he couldn’t help us understand what he needed, all he could do was rage, and he was constantly in the ‘fight’ of fight or flight.

My husband, Travis, and I entered this foster parent world feeling pretty equipped to handle this (if you’ve ever been a foster or adoptive parent, insert laugh here).  I mean, I had a master’s degree in Special Education and had been teaching special education for 14 years, working with some kids who presented VERY difficult behaviors.  Not only did I have the educational background, I also had the heart for these kids, and a husband on the same page.  Travis was a Trooper in the State Patrol and had been trained to deal with difficult situations.  We had this!

Yeah, no.  When our son came to us, he blew all of our book smarts and experience out of the water.  At this point, the educational setting, and the State Patrol world, did not train their employees (my husband and I) about how trauma affects a person.  This knowledge was out there, but it hadn’t worked its way into our settings.  All we knew was behavior management, you know, sticker charts, rewards and consequences, love and logic.

NONE of it was helpful in helping our son.  In fact, these tried and true methods only made things worse.  Pretty quickly we realized we were in over our heads and began to reach out for help.

Here’s where we got it right:

1. We gave relentless love and grace (much like God gives us)
2. We didn’t give up
3. We sought as much help as we could find

Thankfully, we were able to give this boy a permanent home through adoption (and adopt his brother who came into the world a year later, but that’s another story).

Adoption has been the single best thing and hardest thing my husband and I have ever experienced and we wouldn’t change it for the world.

Through the  next several years we all grew together, made a LOT of mistakes, experienced a lot of  ‘hard’, and made some pretty awesome memories.

Then age 14 hit, and when I tell you that puberty and trauma brain are a perfect storm, know that is the understatement of the century.  Our family, held together by a few strong threads and many weak ones, started unraveling.  I won’t go into to details, but know this, it was the hardest year of our lives so far, and we were judged incessantly by well meaning people who had lots of advice to give us, not knowing our journey.

When things became unsafe for all involved, we had to make a big move and get him to a place where we knew he was safe and we could breathe.  Enter the Youth Center in Utah.  This decision was the hardest thing I’ve had to make thus far in my life.  BUT, after 15 months of intense structure and therapy, our son is coming home a new person.

If you saw us today, you’d get a very different snapshot, but the average stranger would not see the underpainting, the layers of dirt, grit, patches of light, and deeply grooved patterns on our souls from all these years.  Our family’s back story is essential in understanding us.

The Artwork

When I started this piece, I had no idea it was going to be about back stories.

I started with a patchwork of collage papers I had made that were piling up (after watching a Youtube video by Shawn Petite about this idea).

Then I added some ‘grunge’ marks, scribbles, and a few words  that were on my heart to the patchwork:

Next, I cut it up!  Yes, CUT it up.  When you watch Shawn’s video, you’ll understand that this is an essential part of the process.  I glued 4 squares onto some square wooden cradles I happened to have on hand:

I picked my favorite one to start with, chose a saying from a little book I have called, “The Little Book of Love Letters to the World” and began layering.

Here’s where I was at one point, but the light yellow and pink area felt too ‘exposed’ and bright.

After struggling to find the right thing to do with that bright spot, I decided to add some grunge over it:

I was immediately sad that the bright spot was muted and thought I had ruined it and would probably have to just paint over the entire thing and start over, so I left it alone and slept on it.

When I woke up the next morning, I realized what this painting was teaching me.  Hope is bright and pure, but it’s extremely vulnerable.  We often want to cover it up by saying things like “I’m cautiously optimistic”, which is what I had been saying about my son coming home.  I didn’t want to be look naive that things would be all roses from now on.

As the time got closer and closer to our son coming home, I began to lose the “Cautiously optimistic” statement, and simply share that I was “ridiculously excited”, because that’s what was true.  No matter what happens next, I am ridiculously excited to have our son home and our family whole again.  We will deal with whatever comes next together.

I’m no longer sad that I tried to cover up the bright hopeful part of this painting, because I can still see it in there.  And the attempt to cover it up reminds me not to try to cover my vulnerable parts so quickly in the future.

I truly hope this story spoke to you and helped you in some way.  If it did, I’d love to hear from you, just reply to this email.

Your Turn

Do you have a piece of art with a back story that is deeply personal and difficult to share?  Do you hide the back story or share it?  If you shared it, who could it help?

Here’s something serendipitous; while I was writing this, I took a minute to go check my e-mail and one of the people I follow sent an email  titled, “They Story Behind the Story” about back stories and how they are very important!  His name is Terry Rice, check him out, he’s very inspiring.  Here’s a quote from his email that completely resonates:

“Your story is already powerful enough to change your trajectory. You just need to stop hiding it.

Your struggles have shaped you. Your experiences have prepared you. Your authenticity is your advantage.

Start using them today.

Stay focused. Stay bold. Stay Savage.

—Terry

Real Quick: Mike’s journey from grief to growth isn’t unique. What’s unique is that he decided to build with his truth instead of hiding from it. That decision changed everything for him. What truth are you hiding that could change everything for you?”

Terry Rice

 

Alright friends, go forth and share your stories!  Reply to this email and share yours with me if you’d like, I would truly enjoy hearing your back story.

Kimberly Snider, Virtuoso, Signing off

P.S. If you want to read the other time God spoke to me after I finished a piece of art, read  it HERE.

For links to all the things I have to offer, click HERE