To say that I was in a huge funk during my recovery from illness would be a MASSIVE understatement. I tried very hard to hide it (mainly from myself), but that doesn’t really work anymore. I arrived at a place in my healing journey, where paying attention is the only option.
So, on the days that I could muster the energy, I would reluctantly tiptoe into my art studio, recalling from somewhere in the recesses of my mind that making art heals me.
For as long as I have been making art, and teaching others to use the creative practice as a healing tool, I STILL forget the power of this practice sometimes (more than sometimes actually).
Maybe forget isn’t the right word…I think ignore is more appropriate.
Sometimes I ignore the call to my own healing. This time it was because I was weary, sick and scared. I’m not often scared of my own dark places, but during that period I was.
I am just starting to process the depth of it all, but I want to share where I arrived as I dusted off the cobwebs, both literal and creative.
There were ALL kids of voices telling me to stop, to walk away, that everything I made was shitty and worthless…I could go on and on.
What I have learned over the years though, and what I trusted as I came back to the pages of my art journals (even though I didn’t feel like it), is to keep going no matter what. I kept going and what came out was many layers of tar like feelings. They were the entry point.
I continued to go back in and greet them again and again, and kept excavating.
One foot in front of the other, and the next thing I knew, I was coming out the other side. I am grateful for the light at the end of that experience and equally grateful for the pain and challenges that helped me know and trust myself even more deeply. Art really does heal, people!
The dark thoughts, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in. Be grateful for whoever comes because each has been sent as a guide from beyond. –Rumi
How has art helped you heal?
