Tonight I've been reminiscing on the good times...and the uncomfortable times.
She loved art, she loved the clients, she loved her job. I was barely 19 when I started Art Awakenings. I remember my first day. It was a little scary. I walked into a very small room. She was there, as were two other clients. I was the third person to join the new Art Awakenings studio. We weren't actually in the studio at that time. No, it wasn't quite ready. Apparently they couldn't wait any longer to bring clients in. She greeted me, so friendly and lively. I didn't know what to do. I loved doing arts and crafts, but I was lost in a studio full of art supplies I'd never used. She saw how overwhelmed I was and she got me started on a project. I decoupaged a vase with tissue paper. One of the other clients did one with me. I liked his better.
My second day she introduced me to Sculpey clay. Oh, I wasn't so sure about clay. Aside from play dough, I had never sculpted before. (And can you really consider play dough a material suited for sculpting?) This was a new endeavor for me and it was a little intimidating. She encouraged me to try and I did. I have her to thank for discovering my love of sculpting.
There were many good times had with her during my first stint in the Art Awakenings program. She was a guiding force in my life, a confidante and a great support. She treated me so kindly, almost like family. We became very close.
I have her to thank for many other things, some of which I probably don't even remember. I learned so much from her. After a year or so, I left. I burned out, ran out of inspiration. There was no lack of things to do, I just couldn't find the motivation to do them.
It seems that not long after I quit, I put my name back on the waiting list to go back. I missed Art Awakenings. It was a place to go and I enjoyed it. I looked forward to seeing her again. But the waiting list was long and after a year or so, I nearly forgot I was waiting.
When I finally got back in, they sent me to the other Art Awakenings studio. There were openings there, but not at "my" studio. I regretted the decision to leave in the first place. I found out she was gone, that everything had changed. I still wanted to get back into my studio. I'd been told that transferring was a better way to get in, rather than waiting on the waiting list. So I waited to transfer. The woman running my studio dragged her feet on that one.
And wouldn't you know, she came back. I went in to see her. It was such a happy reunion! She made every accomodation for me. She got me in that same day, let me continue going to the other studio for counseling. It was such a relief, such a happy time for me. I had the best of everything. This was just one more reason to be thankful to have her in my life.
It was like old times, with a few new faces. I was comfortable right away, back in my element. even people who didn't know me were friendly and inviting. We were a spoiled group, with her attentions lavished on us. We had group activities and art lessons. We had endless snacks and relaxed hours. Things were great, wonderful, fabulous.
She asked for help. She was one person running the program. There just wasn't enough time in the day to get all of her work done. They sent her help. One person after another and none of them were good enough. I started to notice that she had a hard time getting along with other staff. She was great with the clients and everyone loved her. But with staff she was short and had endless expectations. It was when she clashed with someone I adored that I started seeing her in a different light.
One day she was gone. No goodbye. She just didn't show up for work. Nobody knew where she was, what happened. It was frightening. We finally got word that she was okay. That she'd officially quit and was working in another position. We never did get our goodbye. No closure. I was devastated. All the clients were. I was inconsolable for weeks. I was grateful to have someone I already knew to help me through that time. But the pain is still there, more than a year later.
She has returned, in another different position. She does not work with Art Awakenings anymore, but with the parent company. She's running a group out of the building we share with the other PSA program. I was anxious over the thought of seeing her. I have some anger toward her. I don't hate her. But I cannot forget the complete abandonment. The pain I felt and still feel.
Today I saw her. I actually saw her. I knew she would be around. I "got the memo." Yet for some reason I was not prepared to see her. I didn't know what to think, how to react. I did not react well.
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