When I’d been sober for about a year, I began to feel an undercurrent of restlessness. I had settled into the rhythm of recovery, with its regular meetings, steps, and one-day-at-a-time work. The novelty of being sober had worn off. My friends in recovery assured me that this was an expected part of the recovery process. My sponsor suggested I take some time to listen to the restlessness and discover what was missing from my life. I did—but I didn’t have to listen long. I knew what it was. I was missing a creative outlet. For me, that outlet had always been writing. But I’d been in a ten-year cocoon of substance abuse, and in those ten years I hadn’t written even one word that mattered. I was afraid to write after that ten-year silence. But I craved creativity of some kind.
Not long after I had that discussion with my sponsor and friends in recovery, I went to Walmart, hoping something in the arts and crafts section would spark my interest. I saw a few paint-by-number kits and remembered how, as a young girl, I’d always wanted to paint. I had tried a few times, decided I wasn’t gifted in that way, and given up. Looking at these simple paint-by-numbers, I thought that I might be able to paint one—I knew it wouldn’t be great art, but I thought it might fill the creative vacuum inside of me until the day came when I could write again.
The painting I chose, of a horse, was fairly easy. When I worked on it, I became absorbed in the act of painting in almost the same way I used to get completely caught up in writing. And I enjoyed it so much that when I finished it, I ordered another paint-by-number kit. As I worked on that one, I realized that I was “writing” while I was painting. The meditative motion of filling in spaces with colors freed up my mind to begin playing with words the way I used to. The first time I put my fingers back on my keyboard, the words I’d “written” while painting came almost faster than I could type them. My writing faucet had been turned back on, and after all those years of silence, the words came pouring out. I felt like I’d come home—like I was finally becoming myself again. I started writing regularly, but I still continued the paint-by-numbers. I enjoyed them, and I’d noticed that painting them brought many recovery principles to life.
A fundamental principle of recovery is “Progress, not perfection.” I had to embrace this principle while painting: though I loved it, I wasn’t good at it. I couldn’t stay in the lines. I messed up the numbers and ended up with purple spots where brown should have been. But every time I painted, I made progress. As I saw this principle so vividly illustrated, I started applying it to other areas of my life. When my writing fell far short of what I hoped for, I reminded myself that any writing was progress. When I set goals and didn’t follow through in the perfect way I’d planned, I’d look at the painting I was working on and focus on the progress I’d made on it—imperfect, but progress all the same. When I look back over my years in recovery, I don’t see the mistakes I made along the way. The odd purple spots don’t stand out—my progress does.
Another important lesson of recovery is that progress requires steps—steps you take one day at a time. One of the first paint-by-number kits that I ordered after the horse painting was a painting that looked like a small rendering of vintage wallpaper. When I received it, I saw that it was made up of tiny, almost imperceptible spaces—spaces so small that their numbers couldn’t be printed on the canvas; they were printed on an accompanying map. I thought there was no way I could do it and decided to order a different one. But the hard one haunted me—I had so wanted to paint those vintage roses. One day I thought, Fine. I’ll paint one little corner. If I can’t do any more than that, at least I tried. So I painted one corner. I told myself I’d paint another corner. Then maybe the bottom of a rose. And so on, until I had finished it. Those little steps added up to a finished painting. I hung it over my desk as a reminder that I’m capable of far more than I think I am—and the way to find out what I’m capable of is to take small steps. Even the biggest dream becomes attainable when it’s broken down into small, doable steps.
I still love paint-by-numbers. They’ve taught me how to use colors, which brushes to utilize, and how to lay paint on a canvas. But I’m ready now to paint my own canvas. I’ve dreamed for years of painting the sky—the sky at dawn after a night of rain. The sky at twilight when shadows and light flirt with the edge of darkness. The sky on an autumn afternoon—an endless blue backdrop for the yellow cottonwoods that seem to touch it. I know that the sky I paint won’t be perfect. I doubt it will come close to the visions I have in my head. But simply painting it will be the fulfillment of a dream. I now know how to make small dreams like that and much bigger dreams come true—I dream by numbers, taking tiny steps towards my dreams and embracing every little bit of progress I make. That’s how I’ll continue to make my dreams come true. And that’s how I’ll paint the sky.
“The biggest adventure you can take
is to live the life of your dreams.”
Oprah Winfrey
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Comments 12
Thank you Renee for the great blog, can hardly stay awake but wanted to tell you I enjoyed reading about your turning to paint by number, it seems a lot off people do that very thing. My dear wife after fighting her blindness decided she should try paint by number on her iPad, well long story short 3 iPads later she is still hard at it and loving every minute. For my shelf I have picked up using metallic jelll pins to fill in adult coloring sheets it helps me to settle down and I sleep better! Got to get to sleep, more later
Love ❤️
Grover
Oh, Grover, you are so kind to comment when you’ve been through so much! I didn’t know you could do paint-by-numbers on an iPad! I do love those pens and coloring sheets. It does help to settle down–probably good for the blood pressure, I’d guess. I’m praying for quick healing for you. Love to you and your “dear wife.” ❤
Love you! Love this post! Love this blog! Love paint by number! I would have to throw away the painting, though, if I made any purple blobs where they weren’t supposed to be! Hah! That’s where you always teach me! To take a step back and look at the whole picture….then it’s beautiful…I tend to focus on all the bad spots…Thank you for your wonderful writing this morning! And Lonnie loved the song, oh and the video!
Thank you! You would not throw it away because you’re the type that would be good at it–staying in the lines is a skill you have that I do not. You’d be surprised how pretty those purple spots are. 😊Thank you for your comment–you made my day. And I’m glad Lonnie liked the song. Monty liked it, too–it’s Van Halen–how could you not like it?! Love you, dear sister.
I love this post and I am glad for another one of your uplifting and encouraging posts. I know you live by the principles you write about and you have exemplified the “One Step at a Time” concept. Although, I like thinking of it as one number at a time now. I’m going to start dreaming by numbers too!
P.S. I’m so lucky to see these paintings in person!
Oh, my Monty. Thank you. If we both dream by numbers, our future is limitless. ❤
I love this. I am sort of feeling that restlessness, trying to find what I am missing. I’d gotten so used to chaos that the quiet moments became hard to sit with. I love learning more about your recovery journey and I appreciate you sharing your beautiful words!
Thank you, Jennifer. You gave me an epiphany–I, too, had become so comfortable with chaos that the absence of it felt very strange. Quietness, especially, in my soul, was so new to me. I love it now, but at first, it did scare me. Thank you so much for your comment–I so appreciate you reading the words I share. ❤
Good morning Sparrow. Recovery, on any form, would become tedious. Thank God, you have a lot of creativity in you. Writ8ng, painting, etc. I will not “preach to the Choir”, but thankfully, for you, you explored, pursued your “strengths”. As you have said many times, recovery is “each day”. I would pray you have that “spark
Everyday, to keep your “spark of creativity”, lit. I am sure you will receive your reward, either here on Earth or Heaven above. You are a gifted young lady. Wonderful blogtoday, “Keep On Blogging”, Sparrow. ❤️TexGen
TexGen–Thank you for praying that my creative spark stays lit. That’s a lovely way to put it. As long as I’m able to access that and use it for God’s glory, I think I’ll be okay. Thank you for your words, as always. I appreciate every single one. ❤
I love The vintage floral pattern. It’s perfectly lovely. As are you my sweet Frister.
💕
Thank you. Love you, Frister. ❤