"the pressure in my chest is like a storm building in a silent scream"
Late last year there was a moment when I thought the pressure inside of me was going to just explode in an ugly and violent storm that would spew all over me and everyone I held near.
I hindsight I know the pressure was a volatile combination of grief, uncertainty, anxiety, disappointment, unworthiness and just day to day life shit, that was piling on top of one another and each one a new layer added to the storm swirling beneath.
I have always said that for me painting equals my sanity. The answer to the question I am most often asked “why don’t your girls smile more?” is because I called to paint more when I have a problem I am working through, or to release emotions, or because I am not sleeping at night again (which for me is a combination of anxiety, stress or worry.)
Painting is my outlet and allows me to release and escape and feel vulnerable in a safe space.
Painting is my sanity. My therapy. But sometimes I become so paralysed and stuck in my head, that I don’t use painting for that release. Sometimes I am overwhelmed by the feelings of being too worried, too sad, too unworthy. And luckily most of the time will give myself a very I literal pep talk and figure out what is going on in my head. Just when I think I have slayed my little bitch, back she pops!
And there are times the pep talk doesn’t work…. like in this moment.
A moment that had be slowing creeping in over the previous months. A moment that looking back wasn’t a moment in time, but much much longer.
And when I am like this I tend to self destruct a little – I will eat too much, I stop exercising, I stay up way too late (which for a natural night owl is saying something!), I hide in books, I go through the motions, I drink too much, I don’t even look in the studio.
And I woke one morning about 3 am, with this image in my head and deep knowing that the storm was just a comment or two from exploding. So strong was this image I ended up shivering in the pre-dawn chill, sketching it out. And when I woke up I knew I was going to ditch everything else I had planned to paint it.
Just Be
And after feeling the paint on my fingers, seeing the wild vibrant colours come to life, seeing my storm very literally depicted on my girls dress, I finally took what felt like my first deep breath in weeks.
I have been art journalling a lot more since this moment, very consciously making time every week to play and paint, and release and escape and be vulnerable. The storm kept at bay for the moment.
I know from talking to my family and my friends and even just people I know in passing that many of us are also feeling similarly. And I know that we all have very different ways of making sure that we are ok. And I am ok. Are you ok?
Big hugs and squishy love…
p.s I am not a health professional by any means, but have a great listening ear if you want to share your thoughts or story. ❤︎
p.p.s Painting as therapy isn’t for everyone, BUT I encourage you to grab a tube of paint an a piece of paper right now and smoosh some paint around – it is an awesome three minutes of release! 😉
