The Painting I Couldn’t Sell—And the Truth It Revealed
Twelve long years it took for me to hear what it had to tell me.
Twelve years. That’s how long I’ve held onto this painting.
I’ve priced it high. I’ve priced it low. I’ve hung it in my home, hoping to love it again. I’ve taken it to shows, hoping someone else would.
Nothing.
It sat. It waited. And for a long time, I told myself it just wasn’t the right buyer, or the right price, or the right time.
Until recently, when I finally took a long, honest look at it.
And then I saw it.
The vase is off-center.
At a subconscious level, it creates imbalance—something just feels off to the eye. Maybe that’s why buyers, even those initially drawn to the flowers, ultimately walk away.
But the imbalance? It’s not just in the composition. It’s in me.
Because when I painted this, my life was off-balance too.
The Ghost in the Painting
At the time, my cousin lived with me. I didn’t know it then, but she was struggling with drug use. She also fancied herself a florist, and despite having only worked in a shop for a short time, she insisted she knew everything about arranging flowers.
She interrupted me constantly as I painted.
Told me what I was doing wrong.
Told me bouquets had to be asymmetrical.
Told me how it “should” look.
And I listened.
Me—who had been painting purely because it made me happy, because I wanted to—started altering my work to suit her demands.
And that’s the part that stings.
Not that she offered her opinions. Not even that she was wrong. But that I let her voice override mine.
I didn’t trust myself. I let someone else’s version of "right" dictate something that was supposed to be mine.
She eventually left. Took nothing with her. Shortly after she left Hurricane Laura (after our grandmother, no less) destroyed everything she abandoned. And yet, somehow, this painting stayed with me.
Now I know why.
The Things We Keep
Maybe I’ve held onto it because, deep down, I needed to see it.
Maybe I needed to remember how easily I let someone else’s voice direct my hand.
Maybe I needed to see just how far I’ve come.
And now, the real question: What do I do with it?
Do I keep it as a reminder of what happens when I don’t trust myself?
Do I paint over it, reclaiming it entirely as my own?
Do I let it go, finally releasing it—because maybe, just maybe, I already got the lesson I needed?
I don’t know yet.
But here’s what I do know:
We all have things like this.
A piece of art. A book never written. A career choice made to keep the peace. A life decision based on someone else’s expectation.
We carry things—objects, memories, beliefs—that hold the imprint of moments when we silenced ourselves.
And maybe the real work of reclaiming our dreams?
Is learning to recognize them.
And then deciding, on our own terms, what we do next.
So tell me…
What’s something you’ve held onto for too long?
And is it time to let it go?