I wrote a letter to a dear friend of mine recently, who was struggling. I wanted the letter to be from my younger self, to his younger self. We have different stories, but a lot of our hurt is the same. A lot of our symptoms are the same. I thought it would be meaningful to connect our younger selves to each other. Just like how our current selves are connected, the Little Me’s in us have so much in common. When I was in ceremony in Peru meeting Mother Ayahuasca for the first time, I actually met Little Kate (4-6 years) for the first time too. I talked to her about my friend and his Little Me inside of him. It helped me to release tears that are buried deep within me. So this was a special endeavour.

Well, my Little Kate was shy. I could tell she was watching, unsure. So I took the reins and started writing while in the line up for the ferry from my island home to his island home. The words poured out onto the paper. It beautiful. It felt unfinished though. When I got to his island, I pulled over and asked Little Kate if she wanted to say anything.

Little Kate shared a lot unknowing, a lot of uncertainty. It beautiful. What surprised me though was her expression of self on the paper to say ‘if words fail you, try drawing. Big Kate doesn’t draw very much’. This is funny to me, coz she’s right. She is right about a lot of things. It hurts to hear most times. What she wants and what I do in my day to day life. I wasn’t expecting that to come out. I don’t think I was ready to hear that either.

I did listen though. Since then I have bought a few materials. I replaced the pencil kit that I lost in the library somewhere. I bought two different drawing books. Yet, I didn’t open them. Something kept me from putting pen to paper. Until today.

A friend of mine had suggested in a group chat to try life drawing. It sounded cool, and my classic not enoughness mantra arrived, in all her blazing glory. I listened to that part more than I listened to Little Kate’s request.

Last week, I was not having a good time. Them the breaks for this deep work, which I admit to requesting from whoever in me, around me, guiding me, the powers that be. They delivered my request. I should probably add to my requests ‘in a kind and gentle way’ like has been suggested repeatedly. But I like my work cut out for me. That’s probably another issue to explore, but I digress.

I signed up to the drawing class. I was going to go solo as I hadn’t heard back from my friend, who was busy moving house over the weekend. Last minute I decided to re-remind her and she was keen. So we went together an hour later.

I had no idea what I was doing. I am getting a lot better at doing it anyway. Not ignoring the feeling, but sitting with the feeling, experiencing the feeling of not enoughness, not good enough, being clueless and powering through.

The first time I did this type of art was in Grade 7. Coincidently, the guy teaching us to do it ended up being a new friend in high school, it was his Dad. I can still remember him telling me that my bulge on the male torso was not round enough. Him correcting the shape of it with me sitting there absolutely horrified. It was actually a really good drawing. I hate that I took his feedback as evidence that I wasn’t good enough. Like what, Kate (11 years)? Girl, you are too critical of yourself. Makes me wonder if this feeling of me not feeling good enough for life, or any endeavour that I pursue, does that belong to me? Does it belong to present day me? Or does it belong to a younger version of me?

If I can process that not enoughness from long ago, can it shift and transform into something else? Can it relieve the internal pressure and find an outlet so that more space is created inside of me? Well, time will tell. I shall report back.

So here are my attempts. They make me laugh. I love them. They are not perfect, but not bad for a first attempt. I even used my friend’s Willow Charcoal supplies, which is an ode to two friends who have dieted the Willow plant. It felt extra special. Especially when one of those friends gifted me a drawing as a bookmark for me when she came over to explain the ins and outs of dieting plants.

My friend *did* tell me, a few times, that a 2 hour pose is a long time for a first timer. What does she know? Turns out a lot. Next time we are going to sit at opposite sides of the space and then swap half way through. Turns out if I don’t understand what someone means, I should ask clarifying questions.

I got better at drawing the hands in my attempts, and the bum crack proved quite a challenge.

We can do hard things.

Lots of love,

Kate