The best medicine

Using art as medicine and Recognizing that I am my greatest resource

Bowl made from mud and painted with water colour

Last week I woke up and the poet was there to greet me. I said hi and let her do her thing. I haven’t seen her in a while. Even though I did have other creative plans, I woke up and I dedicated my day to writing a poem because I had to. The day before, I heard some familiar trigger words, words that would ordinarily send me into a downward spiral doubting myself and my worth and make me feel like I am not enough and too much at the same time. But I  knew it was up to me to catch myself before I fell into the doom hole and that I had to do it through the arts. My body knew and I listened. 

I wrote some poetry I may never show anyone and read the poems over and over. I took a whole afternoon to make a perfect mug for myself and stamped the words “I have capacity for you” on the side. I made myself a playlist full of self love songs. One day when i found it hard to get out of bed, I just flopped down in the park near my favourite tree and started making a bowl from mud and painted it with water colour. I spent time in nature and moved my body, appreciating the moon as a constant, allowing the trees to support me, allowing water to hold me. I revised some self-help books on spiritual enlightenment and listed all of the things I am grateful for. I wrote long letters of gratitude to some special humans in my life. I cancelled a date with a stranger to stay at home and make pottery instead; a series of trinket boxes based on the moon phases. I journaled and ran and swam and danced in my living room and I was nice to myself. I remained nice to myself and resisted the urge to shrink and gave myself space to express what I needed until eventually I came back and remembered how lucky I am to have me; what an absolute privilege it is to be able to spend this much time with myself, to know what I know, to recognize that I am not my feelings and that I shouldn’t define myself by what is happening around me. I remembered that giving my ego so much attention is unhelpful. 

Ceramic Moon phase trinkets

My paintings have been selling lately and this is wonderful. I have some ideas and references for new work which I do feel motivated to do but this week my writing wanted to come to the forefront. It often does and I have trouble allowing it to at times. I feel under pressure to produce work and say yes to very opportunity. This month I said no to an event because i knew I had some personal work to do and it was so liberating to put time and love into my creative expression because I know it will make me feel better and not just as a way to make products. I always feel like this art translates better if I do choose to share it but it still feels like a risk letting go of others expectations.

I get angry about capitalism. I get angry about how many people are struggling to stay afloat in a world that seemingly values the grind and consumerism over community and connection and fulfilling one’s heart's purpose. Some days are bad. Some days I am crippled with debilitating anxiety, the type that wakes me up in the middle of the night drenched in existential Dred.

And then there are days like this where I feel so privileged to be in a position to trust and honour my spirit and what I know feels right even when I can’t fully explain why, even if it only lasts for a few months of my life. These things I have been so focused on- making art, modelling to others how art is healing, continuing to study and learn and be in community feel like taking a stance against capitalism, however small and this fighting this feels powerful.

By the end of the few weeks I felt proud of how I didn't let my heavy feelings debilitate me, as I often do. I let myself feel my feelings and then released them. Or at least tried. When I was telling a friend about this process, they pointed out what I already know; that I feel regulated when I make art and I know when I need it and that’s pretty cool. That is just one of the reasons why I believe so deeply in expressive arts Therapy. I can read all the text books I want but embodying the knowledge and using myself as a resource is perhaps one of the most medicinal and powerful tools I have. I’m so grateful to be able to self-regulate and to give myself space to trust in it. I did slip up and complain to my friends, browse straight Hinge and dabble with some unhealthy behavior too of course but hey, nobody is perfect. We will keep moving forward.