When I was in school I was told I couldn’t ‘do’ art. I was informed in an ever so pitiful manner that I simply didn’t have a talent for artwork and that it was something I should probably give up on – ‘she’ll never be able to do art again’. It was the 80’s and it was Thatcher’s Britain. London still smelled of smog and chestnuts’ roasting in barrels on the side of the road, which the street vendors sold for 20 pence a bag. A day on the train up to town had you blowing black soot out of your nose for a week. We had stiff upper lips, coal miners strikes, the gulf war, old boys clubs and class division.

I went to a school known to be one of the best private girls schools in the country. I was there on scholarship – I played the violin. We wore uniforms and curtsied on our way in and out each day past the headmistress.

We rowed crew and ran around on the courts each year at Wimbledon – ball girls came from the best schools in the county.

When I told them that I wanted extra physics tutoring so I could fulfill my dream to fly planes in the military they laughed and looked at me distastefully – ‘why on earth can’t you get a proper job like becoming a secretary’. They decided the extra help wasn’t warranted.

So when in art class my still life didn’t meet their expectations it was merciful that they only shared their pity and not their scorn.

I left the school deflated and went to complete my compulsory examinations elsewhere. I had met all my requirements for classes and it didn’t include art. But I missed it. I asked the tutor at my new school if it would be ok for me to use the classroom to meet my creative needs so long as I didn’t interfere with their class time. He agreed and so each day I sneaked in and took up my spot perched out of the way on a small black wrought iron balcony, four floors up and hanging over the busy streets of Kensington. He would come in each day and encourage me and tell me how much he loved what I was creating and kept questioning why I wasn’t pursuing art in my education. I thanked him and shrugged off his questioning – the answer I knew was fear. I destroyed every single piece of work I created. Eliminating the reminder or evidence of my inadequacy.

Fast forward through life, travel and college where I painted a little – just enough to convince myself I wasn’t good enough. I reach my thirties and my son is born. I am a professional, I am a wife and I am a mother.

I get the itch to put paint on canvas – large canvas and so I decide to steal a few moments when I can to satisfy this urge.

Late at night, in between diaper changes and feeding, I would sneak out onto the back deck and prop up a canvas and unleash. I knew I had little time to commit to a work of art and no one would be seeing these creations anyway. This was just going to be about the experience and the feeling of letting go of all reason and rationality and just having a moment to myself to do something I enjoyed –without it needing to result in anything. After I would never be satisfied in the result, it would never be good enough and I was going to destroy the work after right?

I started to observe myself as I engaged in my late night adventures and soon noticed something, which turned into a common theme or formula.

Each time I engaged in the application of paint on canvas with my focus on anywhere but what was happening right in that moment, I would become frustrated and irritated. Let me clarify. When I began to think about the end result of this escapade in terms of its value – how ‘good’ would the piece be, how would others perceive it and value it, how would they then value me and what would that mean, I would become defensive and I could feel the stress hormones start to course through my veins. Irritation, snappy, frustration, disappointment – the fight or flight response which we all enter into consciously or not when we feel threatened or stressed in some manner. In my case I was just opening myself up to being told yet again, I had no talent for this stuff. Why didn’t I learn my lesson, stop embarrassing myself and just hush up.

Wow. Every time I pulled out some paint I took this entire backstory with me. I stopped enjoying it naturally and packed my paints away.

My son was walking by this point and become intrigued with these giant size canvases and paints he could see locked away.

Today was art day and so we pulled out a canvas, placed it in the yard away from anything, which would be splattered and got to work. I started to paint with him, gradually getting frustrated that this canvas wouldn’t turn out to be a masterpiece and I heard myself telling him how to put the paint on the board.

“Just shut up Athena,” I told myself. “Let him do what he wants. It’s playtime.”

He started to show me how “we paint aaarwt” and I found myself having let go, not caring about the end result. It was after all his masterpiece and it would naturally be magnificent. We laughed and got messy and had the best time. That piece now hangs on my bedroom wall.

I decided to take a lesson from my son and recommit to painting with truly no investment in the outcome. And when I did, I learned a powerful lesson. Each time I let go and stayed in the present the result would be a canvas I was truly excited by.

Rather than destroy my creations – those constant reminders, and triggers for self-loathing, I actually began to hang them in my home – in plain site – at risk of being seen! …At risk of being judged!

Today, people naturally comment and interestingly there are some pieces, which seem to resonate with folks more than others – those are the ones where I detached from the fear the most. The pieces serve as a constant reminder to me, that the means to the end, determines the type of end you will receive.

Athena Scott-Rublee

From the artist: “This was a piece that I felt a great sense of accomplishment from. It was a canvas I painted many times to come to the final product and what is hard to see from the photo is the amount of texture which is in the paint. It was interesting to experience that feeling of satisfaction and my perception of the value in the work without needing any one else to qualify it for me. It’s an experience I use and go back to when I need to find validation in other everyday events.” – Athena Scott-Rublee

From the artist: “I really focused on the colors and the feeling they gave me for this one. I find that those I am most satisfied with are the ones I have gone back to several times – not because I feel dissatisfied with the product but because I was in no rush to get to the end result… the goal was the process.” – Athena Scott Rublee

From the author: “This was a canvas I intially worked on and was really irritated by the outcome. I walked away and came back with the goal of just having fun and focusing on the rhythm of paint and colors. It’s love it or hate it but those who love it REALLY love it.” -Athena Scott Rublee.

This piece is by one of our founders, Melissa Seligman, who also started Her War Her  Voice. As a military spouse, she got sick of other military spouses being overlooked.

Kristle H. is a military spouse with a disabled husband. She chose knowledge as a way to empower herself against depression.

The ribbon here is wrapped around the hands of military spouses, binding them together in promise of solidarity.