Contributed by Aimee Hofmann
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Gold at the End of the Rainbow |
The scariest yet most exhilarating thing about life is
waking up in the morning. We
actually never know if we’ll have an ordinary day, or the type of day that
changes our lives forever.
I’ve had so many ordinary days in my life. But, one day in October of 2006, my day
became anything but ordinary. Within hours of waking up I found myself lying in
a hospital bed unable to feel or move my legs. I was diagnosed with sudden on-set Transverse Myelitis -- an
inflammation of the spinal cord -- that paralyzed me from the T10 vertebrae of
the spine. The doctor said, “You
may never walk again.”
It stabbed
me in the stomach like a knife.
When a person is not born disabled and then suddenly becomes
disabled, they go through stages of grief similar to the death of a loved one.
There are moments of anger, some panic attacks, any number of meltdowns, fears
like you’ve never felt before, shock, denial, numbness…you name it.
Visitors try to make you feel
better, and while you’re thankful for the flood of support, it often becomes
overwhelming. Well-meaning advice
and comfort were often inadvertently filled with Shoulds: You should be feeling
grateful. You should stay positive.
You should be strong and hopeful.
You should be looking towards the
future and concentrating on getting better. You should be adaptable.
Thirteen years later I am proud to say that I’ve achieved
all those “should” attitudes over time – but it didn’t happen overnight. It took years of hard work,
processing, a lot of internal work, and believe it or not… a lot of painting!
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"Canvas has no judgement ." |
The NYU hospital where I was a patient for two months, ran a
therapeutic painting program for long-term patients who were traumatically
injured. Anyone could go to a
quiet room and just paint. One day I figured, “Why not?” Art had been a huge
part of my life as a favorite form of expression growing up. I was known as the “artistic kid” in the class. I was that
teenage girl who sat for hours in my room drawing and sketching portraits of the
people that I knew. As an adult I
became too busy with work, marriage, and socializing for my art. And now, here was art, coming back into my
life by being stuck in a hospital room with nothing else to do except, well…paint.
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Aimee at Work |
I celebrated my 30th birthday in the hospital as I began the process of learning to adapt to this new life with a disability. I relearned how to do
simple daily tasks, to pick up where my husband and I left off in our
marriage, and I learned how to take care of and adjust to my new body while finding the courage
to get out into the world again. The journey was as overwhelming as the floods of visitors and the emotions that come with sudden acquired disability.
That’s where the canvas came in.
One of the first things I did when I returned home was buy
canvas -- big, clean,
bright white, blank canvas that stared back at me. The canvas had no judgment. The canvas didn’t talk back telling
me what I should be doing or how I should feel. The canvas accepted
anything I felt like expressing that I couldn’t put into words.
Suddenly I just let myself go, pouring and mixing all sorts of
colors, then brushing and blending them away. I spent all my free time painting. I began to feel pure joy again. My soul was finding peace -- yet I was on fire! I felt gratitude - gratitude that
I had found something I was good at that I truly loved.
Painting keeps me in the present moment. I can’t change what
happened to me in the past, and I can’t worry about what will happen to me in
the future. We can’t control what
happens in our lives, but we can control how we embrace the present moment.
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Violet Sunset Kiss |
Each time I finish an art piece, I look at my finished work, and feel a sense of accomplishment and pride. When I see the bright, bold
colors in vibrant patterns I’ve created it becomes evident to me that, while paralysis
may have taken away my ability to walk, it did not take away my ability to
express myself with the color and zest of my spirit.
Over the years there have been a few major life events that
have made me have to pause in my art work (having and raising children), but I always return to
painting. I share my passion for
art with my two children, especially my 5-year old son, who has proven to be
quite a little art prodigy. Every
wall in our home is filled with artwork, making it a home full of love,
happiness, and positive vibes again.
After receiving great feedback from friends and family, I
felt the need to share my work with the rest of the world. The desire to bring vibrancy into the
personal space of others eventually grew strong enough for me to start my own
art studio, Art by Aimee Studio. It took some time to gather the courage
to debut my paintings, which had been sitting on my bedroom floor for so
long.
When you wake up in the morning, not knowing if you’ll have
an ordinary day or an extraordinary day that will change your life, may you
have the courage to face whatever may come. Like the swirls in my paintings, life may bring you through
many twists and turns. But, eventually,
life will lead you back up and around again to the place where you were meant
to be. Through all of this, it is courage that reveals the greatest version of ourselves!
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Aimee Hofmann |
Note: Aimee lives in Westchester with her husband and two
children. Other than being the founder of Art by Aimee Studio. She is a disability advocate and has
been a guest writer/contributor for mobileWOMEN.org. When she’s not painting, she is swimming or cooking yummy
meals for her family.
Prints (on various media: canvas, metal, wood, paper or framed
in 7-9 different sizes) of her artwork can be purchased at Art by Aimee Studio. Please contact
artbyaimeestudio@gmail to inquire about
purchasing original or commissioned pieces. Follow the @artbyaimeestudio page on Facebook or Instagram
purchasing original or commissioned pieces. Follow the @artbyaimeestudio page on Facebook or Instagram
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