Art helps. I promise.
Grief is part of life. It’s a complicated, often unexpected, journey we travel when something or someone we deeply love is no longer in our lives. Whether it’s a death, divorce, or even a significant life change, grief shows up and does not care about the scale of the loss. And isn’t it just fascinating how grief has the remarkable ability to adapt to everyone’s personal brand of misery. It’s as if the universe thought, “Why not give everyone their own version of suffering?” So whether you're collapsing onto your sofa with your dogs and a carton of ice cream or ignoring the world and binge-watching reruns of the Golden Girls, grief is there, playing its part in your life’s story. The reality is some days it may feel as if grief never had any intention of giving you a break. It felt that way for me. But it didn’t stay that way. Art helped me. It was my break. My life raft. My space to heal.
I’d be lying if I acted as if creating again miraculously took all my pain away. But a little bird said, “Hey, I know things are tough right now, but why not try something that might help you feel a bit better?” Because nothing says “recovery” quite like throwing paint all over a canvas! Creating again wasn’t going to stop me from hurting but it did help pause my downward spiral. However, it took a lot more than paint, paper, and canvas to dig myself out of a hole. I sought out professional help for support and started medication. I sadly see a lot of stigma surrounding antidepressants. There is the gross misconception it’s a sign of weakness or your cheat code to coping. Harsh reality check- that is bullshit. Asking for and receiving help is part of the process and there is no shame in that. Say that out loud. There is no shame in asking for help and using the tools you need to survive. And while you’re getting the support that fits your needs-consider discovering your inner artist.
Creating art is a colorful escape to cope with all the emotions that come with grief and make it into something more tangible. It doesn’t have to be a masterpiece. The messier the better. Think of it as emotional spring cleaning. By the time you’re done, the floor (or kitchen table) may look like a crime scene but your heart may just feel a little lighter. I challenge you to scribble. Doodle. Paint. Write. Dance. Sing. It doesn’t matter. It is all art. And it helps.
So…let’s all give art a round of applause for making the process of rediscovering joy a satisfying experiment in self-expression. Who knew a squiggly line could be so therapeutic?
