A thank you from Hannah

Hannah really wanted to share how grateful she is for all of your support, and so I asked her to write a little something to share with you.

She’s written it so beautifully, that’s about all the introduction it needs.

Take it away, Hannah.

 

“I’ve tried to write this message a few times over now. Even now, as I have committed to this being my last draft, I simply cannot find the right words to say: Thank you. Thank you so fucking much.

Growing up in a toxic household, it was never an easy task for me to dream past the next day. As a teenager, I put my own happiness on the backburner. My main priority became making sure that my mother lived to see the next day. I took her safety, her sickness, and her addiction into my own young and unstable hands. It was my job to make sure she wouldn’t fall asleep in mid chew or with a burning cigarette between her fingers. It was my job to recognize the signs of a possible drug overdose. More importantly, it was my job to make sure she felt my undying love for her, regardless of how she had hurt me and my family, in fear of her suicidal tendencies.

Her pain and her suffering enveloped every fibre of my being. After a while, I didn’t want to live anymore, let alone dream anymore. I often hurt myself because I felt like I deserved it. I woke up one morning and thought about swallowing all of my mother’s pills. At that rate, I was convinced that I most certainly would not live to see past 18. It was just not something that I had the strength in me to do.

I’m 22 now and complete strangers are reaching out and encouraging me to follow my dreams. They are telling me, you need to dance. You need to be happy. And for the first time in my life, I truly believe that. Sarah let me look at her paypal account a few nights ago and I saw what you wonderful souls have been donating. I pointed my finger at the screen in awe and thought to myself, this person just bought me a pair of toe shoes. This person just bought me a leotard. These people are putting me through dance school.

To say that I am thankful would be an extreme understatement. How I feel right now could not possibly be put into coherent words so I will simply say this: Thank you for allowing me to dream again, but most importantly, thank you for helping me feel that I deserve to dream again.”

 

If you’re as choked up as I am after that, I’d really love it if you could share the love across the interwebs and maybe even donate. We’re currently at $635, and we need to make it to $1000.

The original post is here. And if you’d like to donate money, click those shiny yellow buttons below.

Here’s how you can help:

Option #1:

Ballet Shoes © Sarah Marie Lacy.Some of you may remember my painting, “Ballet Shoes”. It’s been sold for years, and is no longer on the site, but I can make prints of it. (I know some of you have been wanting that!)

The print will be a signed 11”x14” (with border, size is 13”x16”) archival giclee print on Hahnemeule William Turner watercolor paper (trust me when I say, it’s delicious). It is archival, it is top quality, and if well taken care of, will last up t0 100 years. Yes, it costs more than a poster but that’s because it is so much more than a poster.

The print retails for $120 USD + $20 shipping anywhere in the world.




 

Option #2:

If you want to help, but can’t afford (or for you men out there, don’t want) a print, donations are super welcome. Seriously, even $5 will make a difference.

And if you did want the print, just let me know in the “Special Message to Seller” section of Paypal, and I’ll email you a high resolution PDF so you can print it out at home. :)




 

Option #3:

Dying to help, but your pockets are lined with love and not money? We will so take your love!

Tweet it up, share it on Facebook, tell your friends, tell your family, whatever you can do, we will love you for it.

Did you really want the print too? Email me telling me how you shared the love, and I’ll email you a high resolution PDF of the print as well, for your viewing pleasure at home.

 

Thank you.

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