Elly sat at home, with a glass of tea on the sofa. She stared ahead with a frown on her face. She thought back to the mural she had made for Gloria's little room. It had been so beautiful, such a wonderful feeling of coming alive. She had rediscovered her old hobby, painting, painting in a combination of reality and fantasy. And she had been convinced that it was precisely those murals, that immensely large, that so suited her, that had her heart. She had done the same for the baby Lisa and Sjaak were expecting. She had got the right impressions for that wall too. And the wall in Huib's building, where he was now displaying his woodwork... there she had painted plants and flowers on the walls. Everyone, especially herself, had been enthusiastic, about the work and about the result.

Then things had gone wrong, at least, it felt that way. A friend had asked her to do a mural at her place. They had both been excited, Elly had gone looking for information about the deep-sea world, because her friend had suggested it as a subject. She had loved it, the pictures on the internet, and fantasising about animals and plants in the depths of the sea, how she could change them. Recognisable yet different, like a wink to nature. Everything had seemed fantastic: Elly was living her life, doing what suited her.

But her friend didn't live nearby. That meant she would either have to travel back and forth, an hour and a half there and an hour and a half back, at least... or she would have to go and stay with her. She had chosen staying with her, on Martin's advice. And that had been difficult. The friendship had not been as strong as she had thought. Elly had sensed herself to be too much, and to make matters worse, she had missed Martin so much. Martin, with whom she had made a conscious choice to go through the process of inner healing together, including their relationship. Their bond had grown stronger in a short time, even in the valleys they went through personally or together. No, when she thought back to those four days she had been with her friend, she could not be happy about it. The mural had turned out beautifully, no doubt, but the atmosphere around it and being away from Martin for days had made her think.

She sighed deeply, put her empty glass on the coaster on the table and stared out the window again. How could it be, that in that little room of Gloria's, she was so convinced that this was the work she would always want to do? How could it be, that she had been so happy, but that now she didn't feel like it at all? Was it because of her friend, their friendship, which turned out not to be as good as she had thought? Or was it because of the days she had been away from home? Had she made a mistake or did she have to learn to get over this kind of relational situation? Where, for heaven's sake... where was the problem?

Her mind wandered back to that first time, painting for Gloria. All those birds and butterflies. She chuckled when she saw that heron in front of her, that heron she had made much bluer than she had ever seen him in reality. That heron with that little goldfish in its beak. What a stunningly beautiful picture that was.

She realised, only that subsection of the big picture was imposing itself on her. She furrowed her brow again as a thought came to her that she found quite difficult. She had told Margreet on that day that she didn't like painting on a canvas. She had told her, that she had once bought the biggest canvas they had there at Action and painted on it, but that it was not nearly as much fun as getting to paint an entire wall. The question that now occurred to her was whether that had been true? Did she really have no fun doing smaller paintings? Actually, that mural consisted of a lot of small paintings. A bird here, a butterfly there, a flower next...

With a deep sigh, she relaxed her shoulders that had tightened while brooding. What was the cause, the cause of the idea that it was totally her thing to paint a wall, when now all she saw in front of her was that heron with that little fish. She felt an emotional ball forming in her stomach, and she knew she was once again going through something. Actually, she wasn't waiting for that; she wanted to do something fun. At the same time, she knew with certainty, that she had to get through this first, in order to start doing something she really liked. She knew, that the shit she felt growing in her stomach now, had to do with the problem she had been thinking about, the question of whether murals really suited her, and if not, why not? And why had she kept thinking that?

All kinds of thoughts and memories shot through her. Images from her childhood, in which she asked for attention from her parents, from the teacher, the master, but received no attention or only negative attention. Don't whine like that', how many times had that been hurled at her?

Elly did not understand it at all for a moment. What did memories like that have to do with her painting? There seemed to be no connection between them....

She decided to go through the pain of the memories, waiting in peace for that emotional ball to dissolve again.

It took more than half an hour... then she stood up, stretched combatively and shouted through the living room, "I want you to see me! I finally want to be seen!"

She dropped back onto the sofa and started crying with whooping fits. She wailed again and again, "I want you to see me!" "I'm still here too!"

Slowly the realisation dawned, that that was where her problem had been. She had felt ignored from childhood, not seen, unimportant. Oh yes, Martin had seen her, but he hadn't been able to heal the gaping wound. He loved her, she knew, had no doubt. And she loved him, so it was good. But that gaping wound in her soul, that yearning to be truly seen, neither of them had recognised it, and so had been unable to do anything with it.

And now, now it happened spontaneously, from inside her, she knew from Annerieke and Huib. Annerieke, her loyal friend, who had always been a true friend to her, with whom she had had a much closer relationship than with the other friend, but from whom she had separated herself because she could no longer stand the special relationship Annerieke had with Erik, which she did not recognise in her own marriage. She was genuinely happy that that friendship had now been restored. It was good between Annerieke and herself.

Elly smiled at the memory of the day they got back together. It was so good, Annerieke understood her completely, but also urged her to go into the depths of the process.

The thought came to mind, that the gaping wound of not being seen was also not resolved by Annerieke, that Annerieke would not be able to resolve it either. 'I have to go through this myself,' Elly realised, 'and I have just made a start on that.'

The question of painting, what had her heart, small paintings or murals, no longer seemed so important. Somewhere a vague realisation dawned, that she had chosen murals, unconsciously, because she wanted to be seen. Actually, she had tried to shout it out through the size of a mural: 'Look at me, I'm here too, I can do this, I'm making my mark on something, I'm important, me too! Yes, me too!' The suspicion grew stronger that this was why she had chosen super-sized, whereas the small, just such a heron with a goldfish, was just as special.

Elly stood up, stretched and walked to the bathroom.

"I don't get any more beautiful after crying so terribly..." she muttered to her reflection. She grabbed a wash cloth and ran cold water over it. She cooled her face, a few times in a row, dried herself off and looked in the mirror again.

"Hmm, my eyes still need some touching up, but otherwise I'm fine."

She ran a brush through her hair and rubbed her face gently with her hands. It felt good, she realised, that she was visible because of who she was. She didn't need her work or her hobby for that. She smiled at her reflection. "I am becoming more and more who I am, and I am starting to see myself..." She was surprised by the last words she uttered and repeated them, "I'm starting to see myself.... Yes, I'm starting to see myself! Wow, that's a good one! That's what it's all about! I'm starting to see myself!"

Elly walked to the room where she had put away her painting stuff. In an open cupboard, she had placed all her pots of paint, colour by colour, so she could easily find what she needed. Against the side of the cupboard were the crates she had used for transport. She grabbed one crate, took it, put it in her car and got behind the wheel. At the Action, she parked and took her crate unfolded inside. She took a wheeled basket and placed her crate on top of it. She walked to the aisle where she could find painting supplies. She saw a nice assortment of canvases, which she had always walked past since that one time she had worked on a large canvas. She picked up a canvas she was sure would fit a heron with a goldfish on it. A few smaller, square canvases...

Elly tried to think and feel what she needed, what she wanted. Finally, she had her crate almost full. She looked further among the painting supplies, but knew she didn't really need anything. At the brushes, however, she stopped. She had fine brushes, and yet she suddenly decided she wanted to take them with her. This felt a bit like a fresh start with new brushes. She had no idea if the quality was good, but she would find out soon enough.

She had wanted to wander further through the shop without further haste, but she felt a desire to start working on a painting later, before she would cook. So she walked to the checkout, joined the queue. The customer in front of her, a young man, turned around: "So, you must like painting!" And when Elly nodded: "What do you paint?"

"Almost always animals and plants, but usually just different from reality. I once painted a heron in shades of bright blue, and with a goldfish in its beak. A mix of reality and fantasy. I like to play with that a bit. Wait, I have a picture of it on my mobile..."

Elly pulled out her mobile and looked up the website she shared with Huib and Margreet, found the picture and zoomed in a bit on the heron. "Just look, this one."

"Oh, how funny! You know, when you just said it, I wondered if nature wasn't beautiful enough then, but this is just really nice. But this doesn't look like an ordinary painting."

"No, this is part of a mural," Elly said, showing him the complete picture.

"That turned out really beautiful, but you're going to work smaller now?"

"Yes..." sighed Elly, "that's quite a story!"

"You're making me curious, do you want to tell it? Or would you rather not?"

"Yes, but it's your turn soon. If you like to hear it, I'd like to tell you outside."

"Fine, let's do that, I'll wait for you there," the young man replied.

And indeed, when Elly came outside with her full crate, he was there waiting for her.

"I'm Herman by the way, and I also like painting, but mostly the rough work, painting woodwork of houses and so on," he said.

"That needs to be done too, Herman, that usually brightens up houses well. My name is Elly and my story..."

Elly told him about her murals, her idea that it suited her completely, and what she had finally run into. She described roughly what she had gone through that morning and that she now wanted to try out what it would do to her if she started making small paintings.

Herman was a good listener. "I think I understand your process, I went through something similar. I was working at a painting company, but felt rushed and pushed into a pattern there. I got out of that and started working for myself. I like it just fine! And you, when you finish a row of paintings, where will you put them?"

"I have a room with a couple of open cupboards. There are my pots of paint in there, but a big part is still empty. So I think I'll put them in there. For now, I have plenty of room!"

"Awfully nice Elly, I hope we meet again, and I'll hear enthusiastic stories from you then!"

"That would be fun yes! Thanks for this conversation, I enjoyed it Herman!"

"Me too, have a nice day!"

A nice day, yes, it actually was, because of what she had gone through and the new plans she had. Herman's question, where she was going to set them down, did keep her busy along the way. If this became her new hobby, the cupboard would fill up, and then what? Put pictures of these little paintings on the website too? She decided not to worry about that yet. First she would just get started, try it out, and feel what it did to her.

To chapter 18. Ineke meets Rosalie

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