Paper Mache
Paper mâché came into my life during the pandemic.
I was a mom of three boys,
what they’d call a “stay-at-home mom,”
but to some, I was lazy
a woman who “did nothing” with herself or her kids.
Every day, I was responsible for shielding my children
from a world that seemed designed to erase us.
And my husband?
He came home after work
always with a can in his hand
and a storm brewing behind his eyes.
He’d say things like,
“I’m going to the corner store for a pack of cigarettes,”
not because he meant it,
but because he knew it scared me.
A threat wrapped in casual words.
A reminder that he could leave,
and I wouldn’t know if he’d return.
But he always did
for the kids, not for me.
And I was left to carry what couldn’t be named.
Scrolling on my phone became a form of survival
the only hobby I had
outside of being deeply depressed
while a baby drained
every nutrient I had on reserve.
And then
I found paper mâché.
It sparked something in me.
It was gold.
Something to do that didn’t require going outside
into a world where people were dropping like flies.
I set the dinner table like it was a sacred altar.
Each boy got paper to rip,
glue to mix,
and we made mush out of chaos
we made paper mâché.
It was messy,
but nap time | quiet time | was everything.
And in that silence,
when I could finally hear the voices in my own head,
I created.
I fell in love.
Not a trauma bond.
Not an escape.
But a genuine, gentle love
for something that asked nothing from me
but presence.
My creativity
the part of me I lost somewhere
between girlhood and grief
came back like it never left.
Before that moment,
I didn’t even know adults were allowed to be creative.
I thought it was all bills, survival,
hard work,
and more hard work.
But paper mâché reminded me
there was something inside of me
that hadn’t died.
And I nourished it.
I held it close.
Until my womb filled again
another seed from a love
that was slipping further from the door.
With three boys,
a baby on the way,
and a husband with one foot already out,
I had to close that door
to my creative mind.
And focus on staying alive…
again.
Song: I Am Light by India.Arie
