Brush stand


I have always wanted a brush stand. Havingno idea where to get one, I thought to make it out of parts found on the side of the road. 


It was different this time.

This evening my family had another episode of domestic violence. Growing up, my father has always shown to be paranoid, controlling and angry. It occurred more frequently during my toddler to teen years and it was more violent back then when furniture was involved but now he has mellowed down a bit.

I didn’t witness the actual physical abuse but upon hearing a weezing/moaning sound, I came into the living room to see my father screaming at my mother, my mother on the floor making that awful noise, holding her side. My brother holding my mother up in a sitting position.

Usually I get into an emotional rage due the adrenaline coursing through my body, I try to stay in control despite it and always say nothing because it only enrages my father. This type of event only adds fire to the hate I feel for him. But this time that didn’t happen. The adrenaline still comes and habitually I think of using my Kung Fu to shut him up (I never go through with it). After a moment my head clears and I calmly to put my hand on my fathers shoulder and say, “Dad, she’s hurt, I think you should stop yelling at her.” It didn’t work. Then I became aware of the immense energy in the room. The anger that I always dreaded and am familiar with was an explosion, a message from my father telling us that he couldn’t take it any more.

He has always been one to keep quiet because to talk it through is ‘causing trouble’. He prefers a false peace. 

My brother and I asked my mother what happened, she said he pushed her into wall, that he threw her food away. (My mother has an issue of overstocking the fridge and is in denial of it–we end up throwing away a lot of food.) I asked my father what happened, he yells that he doesn’t know. I assume he is lying because he regrets what he did?

Then he starts saying that he is stupid, that I have always thought that he is stupid. In the past I would whole-heartily agree but this time I didn’t. I saw the sadness in the man, the rage and inability to cope with an insurmountable weight of emotion. I tell him that I don’t think he is stupid, and repeat, he is not stupid. All he does is continue yelling at us, I see how he needs to do that, get it out of his system. My father reached tipping point and expressed it the only way he has his whole life. This way of dealing might stem from his childhood, I had never cared enough to ask… but that might change.

My dad has always had the family against him when this happens. It may be the closest we have ever been to unify as a family–when we were against him. He has hit and yelled at everyone multiple times. Chairs were thrown, bruises were made, hair was pulled, all while shouting nonsense but this time I wasn’t against him in the sense that I heard his message. I didn’t want to complete the circle of anger. I am choosing to absorb that energy and turn it into something else.

I know he is crying but I don’t know if he even wants help–especially from me since we have never got along. But I might try.

My art and my heart