I want to cut. I wont but the desire is there to shred my arms up.
When I don’t paint I don’t cope. Painting is a huge coping skill for me. Now that I’ve started painting again I’ve started feeling more. I felt a lot before but was sort of holding up a wall to shield myself from it.
I feel weakened by having painted so much. I feel like I let out a flood I wasn’t aware would happen.
For what felt like forever I didn’t truly paint. When I finally did I was reminded of why I need to do it. I feel in color. I feel in brush strokes. I feel everything that way, from good to bad to mundane. I just do. I let out so much that way so when there’s a plug and it all stays in I’m a total mess….and now I’m a total mess for the flood gate that opened yesterday and today. It’ll subside, the emotional flood will recede. I’ll go back to painting daily and letting out emotion at regular intervals, at my normal pace.
It’s funny, it hurt when I wasn’t painting the way I wanted to, but this hurts too because it’s too much emotion at one time and without a therapy session. My therapist was sick today and unable to speak with me. I’ll journal, draw and speak to him Friday.
My sidebar note says it best:
ART IS THE REASON I’M NOT CRAZY
My art explains me.
To the extent that I managed to translate the emotions into images– that is to say, to find the images which were concealed in the emotions– I was inwardly calmed and reassured.
Had I left those images hidden in the emotions, I might have been torn to pieces by them…