My relationship with my prison bed leaves much to be desired. There are times I can honestly say I hate my bed. It has been detrimental to my mental, physical, and psychological well-being. I’ve had the same mattress for nine years—it could be folded in half three times forward.
I am a 66-year-old woman diagnosed with leukemia, and my body takes a beating every night. The abstract background becomes the focus of the hope I still hold onto. It represents brighter days, with the sun pushing through. The sun brings me joy and solace, a sign that the terrible night on this bed is over, at least for now.
Various thought bubbles stand out, representing the thoughts that keep me awake most nights. The tornado reflects the tossing and turning as I struggle to find rest, feeling worn out from cancer and my aching body. Yet, I thank God for the sun, for it means this night’s nightmare is finally over.
This painting was commissioned for the exhibition The Only Door I Can Open: Women Exposing Prison through Art, Yerba Buena Center for the Arts, 2025.
