As a child, I was always drawing, but no one I knew considered art anything more than a pastime. And I was the eldest child - I had duty and responsibility etched in my bones. I studied math and computer science and embarked on a career in software engineering. I always had some creative sideline going, but an identity as an artist was never on the radar screen.

Fast forward into my mid-fifties. I was facing my third act, knowing that whatever I wanted that third act to be, it wasn’t more of the same. My marriage had been on life support for years and I had a demanding and stressful job in an office rife with petty politics. Passion and fulfillment were a distant and seemingly impossible dream. Coaches were at that time encouraging folks to "follow your bliss" and I literally had no idea what that meant. My life was living me rather than me living my life.

It is said that an unstable system will inevitably reach a tipping point, ending in breakthrough or breakdown. A family crisis precipitated that moment for me. Everything broke down. My marriage ended in divorce. I left the city to move back to my rural home town to care for my aging parents, and I began to consciously build a new life.

Gradually, I came to see that the breakdown had actually been a breakthrough. My ex-husband and I remained friends. Our children and grandchildren coped, perhaps even learning something valuable about how roles can change, families can heal, and individuals are free to make this precious life count. I found new love, coming full circle to marry a teenage sweetheart. Most surprising of all, I found a community of artists who encouraged me to own that buried part of myself. It's been a marathon rather than a sprint, but today I am proud to seen, heard, felt, and known as the artist I am. With every day that passes I become more authentically myself.

I am a bird, free and soaring on the wind.

Heart Song, oil and cold wax on cradled board, by Wanda Oliver.