I started writing this post on my birthday in 2022 and it has sat in my drafts since then. That is an excellent example of how much avoidance I have had with art. I hated art class as a kid. My anxiety and perfectionism criticized my every move and I would cry over feeling inadequate since a young age. I believe that the logical path was appealing through its validation of my overthinking. This is how I became an analyst and suppressed my creativity through many years living in survival mode.

I’m struggling with how quiet it is at my house as my kids are getting older and need me less and less. My house is more orderly. Yet, my heart aches for the days when I was up to my eyeballs with crafty chaos to engage my kids. In order to soothe my loneliness, I decided to challenge myself through coloring with my non-dominant hand while listening to affirmation meditations. As I was neatly coloring within the contours of the mandala, I thought of this unfinished blog post. I reflected on why art has been so stressful for me since I was young. I realized that art reflects the inadequacies inflicted on my psyche throughout my youth.

I love how Bill Plokin, author of Soulcraft, describes what art is meant to be. “True art has nothing to do with impressing others. It is not about entertaining others with pleasant or stunning creations. It’s about carrying what is hidden in the soul as a gift to others.” That was a beautiful epiphany in pondering my anxiety surrounding art. I let my fear of judgment and feeling not good enough take away from my freedom of expression. I remember staring at trees for hours as a kid. I tried to draw them, but I hated how it turned out. My inner critic perpetrated the unworthiness that was affirmed in my daily environment. It wasn’t until I started journeying on my own in the wild that I felt comfortable exploring artistic expression. I was inspired by the messages in the wind, rock, and water. I used to think artists had a special talent to see the world in a different view. Perhaps they have that gift from connecting to something deeper within. Maybe in various forms we all could connect to an alternative view of the world around us, applicable to more than art.

I pick up random crafts here and there. I experimented with painting despite my apprehension over the thought of wasting my time and money on supplies. I was pleasantly surprised that it provided zen like qualities which melted my worries. Time appeared to be distorted where I didn’t realize hours had gone by. I was inspired by the moon that looked like a medicine wheel in the cold predawn sky near Wind Cave National Park in 2021. It took me 6 months to have the confidence to sit down and paint my vision.

When I made my drum, I fretted over every little imperfection. I spent a couple of weeks like this before I had the courage to buy a stencil and paint on it. I’ve had it for two years now and don’t even notice a single imperfection. Only a beautiful expression of medicine that draws out another suppressed form of art, singing. That is another anxiety provoking expression that I am working towards healing.

I have struggled with feeling isolated and misunderstood all of my life. Part of me doesn’t mind the isolation. The other part longs for more family and community interaction in my life. When I look around at all the beauty I have created, I realize something important. My persistent pursuit of bringing my visions to life has been transformative. I taught myself to crochet, paint, built a hearth, and made a lamp shade. The list goes on. Those old stories have been on their way out for a long time through my intentional practices of self-expression. With each passing day I let go a little bit more of the grip of fear and doubt and embrace my hidden gifts.