Art for Healing
Welcome to my journey of healing.
I never dreamed I would paint with such zeal. As I have been recovering from a traumatic brain injury, painting has been one of the few things I can do for short bursts without significantly inducing or increasing pain.
I turned to painting first to distract myself from the excruciating pain I was experiencing. Then painting served as a medium to express emotions I could not articulate because of my injuries.
You will hear me fondly utter.
As this originally left-brained, type A, overcompensating, “I want to do it all” woman, a traumatic brain injury was super inconvenient. Laying in bed, exhausted, and spending time with myself was less than fascinating. I’m a therapist; I’ve done enough self-analysis my entire 25-year career.
Someone or something wanted me to slow down from my million-mile-a-minute lifestyle, stop and, dare I say, “smell the roses.” I genuinely thought I was smelling them until my injury showed me that losing so much makes you see what really is important. It also awakens you to parts of yourself that were dormant or yet to be discovered.
From the early days, I have used humour to get through what seemed unthinkable. Not knowing whether I would return to the work I was passionate about made me feel lost and incomplete. I have been reminded that healing takes time and that I must first accept my circumstances and love myself back to total health.
The grief was beyond what I could have imagined. My entire life, to that point, was dedicated to my children and one career focus. Now, my career was taken away; I suffered many other losses, and I felt subpar when it came to being the mother I knew myself to be.
Walking was arduous as I held on to walls and felt the world spinning. I struggled to process what was said and couldn’t follow instructions or solve problems. To go from being a public speaker to being unable to find words or get words out of my mouth was incredibly frustrating and saddening.
I knew I needed a way to express myself. I needed to move everything within me to process the gravity of what was happening. Everything was incredibly unsettling.
I like to say painting found me, helped me connect deeply with myself again, and made me believe healing is possible.
Each piece is a play on colour and an expression of my innermost thoughts. This experience has humbled me. Physical or mental pain takes away peace if we are absorbed in it. We become the pain.
As the Buddha so rightly says, “Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.” I was trying to transcend the pain I was experiencing and not add suffering.
My method of managing has been to turn to my mindfulness meditation practices and now add mindful art practices. Painting has been like adding a mantra; it keeps me focused when the pain is too much. This isn’t easy and doesn’t always work. Meditation and mindful practices are also much harder post-brain injury. My mind will twirl into narratives that add to my suffering. That said, the practices I have returned to have undoubtedly helped me to stay strong during this time.
There is a dialectic to this artistic experience. On the one hand, there is this process of letting go and surrendering to the mediums, and then, on the other hand, there is a sense of taking control of something I know nothing about. It is a journey, just like my recovery.
I share my art with you as a message of hope. Life doesn’t always go as planned; it isn’t supposed to. The pivotal moments in our lives make us stop and reevaluate everything. My brain injury had me enter a brain fog, literally and figuratively. As the mist started to lift over the last four years, I’ve begun observing everything in new ways.
My mantra to help me cope with the pain in the early days was “This breath….just this breath.” as I would breathe in and out, desperate to manage. I still turn to that mantra but can use it in good moments too. I celebrate this.
“May this breath be one of hope. Sending you love and light.”
Jennifer