If Your Life Were a Painting

If your life were a painting... what would it look like today?

Would it be full of bright colors or softer, quieter ones? Would there be sharp lines and careful brushstrokes? Or would there be places you painted over, started again, and somehow ended up liking even more?

Maybe it wouldn't be just one painting at all.

Maybe it would be a collection.

Lately, I've realized that's exactly what my life looks like.

One painting for the seasons that stretched me. One for the moments that made me laugh. One for the chapters I never expected. One for the people I've met along the way. And maybe one with plenty of blank canvas... waiting for whatever comes next.

This past year, I've found myself painting more. 🎨

Not because I'm trying to become an artist. Honestly, I never saw that coming. If you'd asked me a few years ago, I would've pointed to my kids' artwork hanging on the walls and told you, "They're the artists in the family." 😊

Now here I am... painting.

And somewhere along the way, I stopped worrying about whether I was good at it and started enjoying the simple fact that I was doing it.

Life has a funny way of surprising us sometimes.

Somewhere between the brushstrokes in these paint-by-numbers, I've found a creative outlet. I've found a little more peace. I've learned to pause.

(Although... as I'm painting, my mind is constantly coming up with ideas for writing pieces and presentation material. If only those thoughts could magically transfer from the canvas onto paper. 😉)

Painting has also reminded me that not every blank canvas needs to be filled all at once.

Maybe life doesn't either.

There's something nice about these paintings. Maybe it's because I sometimes like having direction. Tell me where to put the next color, give me a few hours, a podcast or show in the background, and I'm good.

Truthfully, I think I've lived parts of my life that way too.

I've often wished someone would just hand me the instructions.
Tell me the next right step. Tell me what to do. Show me the plan.

Life doesn't usually work that way, though.

And neither do my paintings.

Sometimes I've accidentally picked up the wrong color. Colored over a few numbers completely. Opened up the paint, and the color is completely dry! Sometimes I've intentionally changed one because I was curious what it would look like. More than once I've stepped back and thought...

I actually like my version better.

It made me realize that's true of life too.

Maybe the goal isn't to perfectly follow someone else's picture.

Maybe it's to create one that looks a little more like you.

Or maybe...

Maybe it's giving yourself permission.

Permission to try something new.
Permission to change directions.
Permission to make mistakes.
Permission to enjoy something simply because it brings you joy.
Permission to change your mind.
Permission to sit.
Permission to just be.

A few years ago, during one of the hardest transitions of my life, my life coach and friend, Kim, said something I'll never forget.

"It's time for Nikki to go create the life you love."

At the time, I thought she was talking about rebuilding after divorce. Finding myself again. Starting over. Figuring out what came next.
And she probably was.

But I don't think either of us realized those words would keep speaking to me years later.

Because creating the life you love isn't something you do once.

It's something you keep doing.
It’s something you choose every day.

Life has a way of filling every corner of our calendars before we even realize it.

Schedules. Appointments. Groceries. Laundry. Practices. Games. Work. Meals. Responsibilities. Showing up for the people we love.

And somewhere along the way, many of us spend so much time taking care of everyone else that we slowly lose sight of what fills us.

Not because we're doing anything wrong.

Just because...

Life gets busy.

For years, that's exactly what we do.
We pour into our kids. Our families. The people around us.

And I wouldn't trade those years for anything.

But then something happens that every parent knows is coming.

The schedules change. The house gets quieter. The pantry looks empty. The practices end. The calendars open up.
The kids grow up.

And somewhere in the middle of becoming an empty nester and being divorced, I found myself asking a question I didn't expect.

Now what?

Not because I was unhappy.

Not because I was lost. (Okay... admittedly there were a few chapters where I definitely felt that way. And even moments today. 😉)

But because, for the first time in a long time, I had time.

Time to breathe.
Time to think.
Time to rediscover things I hadn't made time for in years.
Maybe even time to rediscover parts of myself.

Parts of me I hadn't lost.

Parts I maybe hadn't even found yet.

Looking back, I've realized this season of painting has quietly been reminding me of three things:

Pause.
Because I needed to slow down and notice what I might have otherwise walked right by.

Peace.
Because I was craving a lot more of it. Because life doesn’t need to be rushed.

Painting.
Because creating is different than producing.

I didn't go looking for the Three P's.

I think they've always been there.
I just finally slowed down enough to notice them.

When I look at this collection of paintings, I don't just see flowers, books, sunsets, or butterflies.

I see moments.
I see slowing down. Trying something new. Finding joy in creating instead of producing.

Learning that unfinished doesn't mean failing.
That stopping doesn't mean quitting.
That changing direction is okay.

Rediscovering creativity.
Rediscovering curiosity.
Rediscovering peace.

Maybe that's why this collection means more to me than I expected.

It isn't really about the paintings.

It's about the season I'm in.

A season where I've been rediscovering parts of myself that were always there...
And maybe discovering a few that weren't.

Maybe that's what Kim meant.

Maybe creating the life you love isn't one big decision.

Maybe it's hundreds of little ones.

One painting.
One photograph.
One puzzle.
One walk.
One quiet morning.
One conversation.
One laugh.
One book.
One meal.
One sunset.
One hug.
One cup of coffee.
One brushstroke at a time.

Maybe finding yourself isn't about becoming someone new.

Maybe it's about making room for the person who's been there all along.

And maybe it's also giving yourself permission to discover who else you might become.

One brushstroke...
One choice...
One ordinary day at a time.

Because life isn't about creating one perfect painting.

It's about creating a collection you're proud to look back on.

So I'll leave you with this...

If someone looked at the collection of your life lately... what would they see?

❤️