Art For No Reason

When I create, I feel happy and content. I feel like my brain is functioning and I’m alive. It is something that comes so naturally for me and I am so grateful for my ability. If I did not have art, I wouldn’t be as happy as I am today, and I wouldn’t be in the healthy mental state I am today.

Why do I say that? Because art is what saved me from myself. Art as in painting, writing, and singing. Although I do all of these forms and they all have been my therapy, I am specifically crediting writing and drawing/painting in this short bio.

When I was young, I had signs of anxiety and depression. I would lash out due to feelings of aggression that I had no reason for. I was regularly agitated, which was most likely due to my environment and having chaos in the home. My siblings and I would often argue and fight over little things, and my parents would argue in front of us. But regardless, my siblings and I were generally well taken care of and quite spoiled.

Around the ages of 8 and 9 is when I began noticing my issues with food. If I felt something odd in my food while chewing or saw something odd inside my food, I would spit it out and would not eat anymore. And I found a lot of issues, unfortunately. I would sit and search through my food with my little eyes to make sure there were no hairs, bugs, lint, dirt, you name it. This progressed as I got older, and it progressed to a fear of germs. I could not sit on a bare toilet seat anymore because all I could imagine were germs. I always had to have hand sanitizer with me and use it religiously after touching any door handles or anything in a public setting. I would hold my breath whenever anyone sneezed or had a cough and I had to walk by them or be in the same room with them. I would even go as far as holding my own spit while I slept so I did not have to swallow the germs that were in my mouth, and I had almost drowned myself a few times. On top of all of these things, I had my anxiety disorder. I would pace my floor fighting my own thoughts minutes and even hours on end because my negative thoughts just wouldn’t stop repeating themselves. I would think things over, and over again if the thought was negative enough to stand out to me. To name a few; I used to wish the universe would explode and that thought would recycle itself constantly; I used to think on occasion a constant loop of “I can’t wait for my parents/mom to die” and I would fight it because I did not feel that way and had no idea why that thought even came to be; I used to wish I would have an aneurism, a seizure, and a heart attack but these would each separately play on a loop majority of the time and periodically come in together to torment myself; I used to imagine the world falling or getting swallowed by a black hole, and I remember feeling so useless because if the world were falling or getting swallowed by a black hole I couldn’t save anyone I loved or even myself, and I would sit and constantly think about it and try to convince myself that it wasn’t real. All of this eventually led me to paranoia, and could possibly have been paranoid schizophrenia but I was never diagnosed. I could not even look up to the sky because I was so afraid of something bad happening to our home planet and to my family. I was beginning my eight grade year when I had reached this point. I remember sitting in the cafeteria alone at a table and thinking that everyone in the room was staring at me, and I remember my heart racing and my adrenaline racing through my veins, but I stayed put no matter how much I wanted to run. My paranoia at school was getting worse and my thoughts were still tormenting me on top of that and it became too much, so I went to home schooling. With home schooling I ended up passing, but I didn’t have the proper environment or mental clarity to absorb the information and by the time I decided to go back to school for my ninth- grade year the curriculum made no sense. Even though I failed out of ninth- grade the first time, I went back and passed with flying colors the second time. And for the rest of my time in high-school I was an A B C student. Before I graduated high- school, I won my first huge art contest called the Congressional Art Competition. I won first place over every district in Virginia and my piece was hanging in Cannon Tunnel for one year. I am so happy I kept trying, and still keep trying.

All of these crazy things I had to live through thus far taught me to be strong for myself because I was the only one who could bring myself out of the trials and tribulations. All of those nights pacing the floor and fighting the demons in my head, all of the days and nights I couldn’t eat because of the constant fear I was experiencing which caused me loads of nausea, and all of the times I wanted to find a way out of the torment and torture couldn’t have taught me more about the beauty in life. I remember the moment I chose to do better for myself and to get myself back to mental health and I won’t ever forget the feeling of strength I had during that time period. I was almost ready to give up and check myself into a mental institution, at age 14, when I realized I had the strength within me to stop this torment I was going through. I was going to start by trying self -soothing techniques like meditation and prayer every day. I did not do so much of meditation at first, but prayer was my main go to. After I started praying every day, I began hearing a still small voice speaking to me and guiding me. I remember how peaceful and calm it was amongst all of the chaos and fear I was still fighting against. It would tell me to pray and tell me that everything was okay and that the thoughts were just thoughts, and I could let them go because nothing bad was going to happen. I remember my fears trying to talk me out of letting my negative thoughts go though, with the fears saying that if I let the thoughts go the bad things would happen because that is part of manifesting. I would give in at times, but I never stopped fighting for my happiness. It got easier and easier to ignore the fears and negative thoughts as time went by, and when I felt I could think clearly for myself I began meditating. It was a great therapy for me to do at the time, thought difficult at first, because it allowed me to fight the demons that kept wanting to torment me, and it allowed me to connect with my heart and truth to help me remain peaceful in my mind and body. Meditation allowed me to connect with myself for the first time ever since my self-development was largely hindered for so long. I began writing poems and drawing abstract pencil drawings to help keep my mind occupied on something positive so my mind would not find something for me to focus on. I had remembered a quote my mom told me; “an idle mind is the devil’s playground.” It was so true, and always will be.

I remember the first poem I wrote. It was called “Beatboxing Characters” and I was so proud of it. I remember trying to fit a rhyme together before I came up with that one and getting upset because nothing fit together. As a side note: the more I sit and rationalize my past, the more I realize that my life is a series of small personal triumphs and achievements which all add up, exactly like building a foundation of multiple separate rooms in a house. That truly does go for everyone, not matter what you are going through. Progress is always being made, let us choose to make it positive.

I began writing regularly and I became skilled at creating poems and quotes. I figured I wanted to be an author, so I began writing a book. That books manuscript is hidden away in heaps of my old childhood stuff, and needless-to-say it was never finished. But my whole point of writing was to keep my mind occupied, and once I couldn’t write any more, I just moved on to another idea for a poem or a quote. I have realized that when you are healing yourself, you have to do what is best for you in the moment which can create piles upon piles of paper and lots of scribbles in my case. The work got done though, and as I became more serious about my writing I became more curious about creating a picture to go along with them. So, I began drawing little pictures to go with my poems and I started to picture a whole scene in my head about what my poems would look like if they were a scenery. I just couldn’t figure out how to put it on paper, but I was determined to figure it out. I was still in high- school at this point and before I was really interested in art I didn’t pay attention to how my instructor was teaching, but then I began paying attention. I started paying attention to depth and placement of subject matter and I was intrigued by the concept of creating depth on a flat surface. I started teaching myself how to blend and create shadows to add more depth and realism to drawings and I started practicing drawing different subjects in nature, as well as different aspects of people like faces and clothing and body parts. Art was suddenly my new doorway to create my own peace and sanctuary, and a new form of my self -expression. I kept going and I keep growing.

As I mentioned before, in twelfth grade I won one of the biggest art competitions in the country. Before that moment of finding out I won, I didn’t think any of my work was worth anything. Every one of my serious works were done as school assignments and they would usually get a good grade, and I figured this one was no different for me. But my art instructor asked me if I would like to enter and I said yes and that was it, I thought nothing else of it. After my win, I took art even more seriously because I felt there was something to it. I thought I could sell my work and do art commissions for others to make a profit and have my own little business, but I didn’t have any clientele. I was also lacking confidence to push me to self-advertise because I was so new to taking art so seriously and having a business. I did however end up doing a portrait for a lady who had lost her father, which I was completely nervous to do because I had never done a portrait of an actual person before, but I did it anyway. That was my first lesson to refuse any work you are not comfortable doing because it just may end up being terrible, and in this case and in my opinion, I could have done way better. She accepted it anyways and I do hope she cherishes it. Any-who, it was the only painting I would do for anyone for a good four to five years. I sort of moved on from trying to be a small business owner who sells her own art and I lived life like a typical nineteen, to twenty-two -year- old and got a license and a car and a job. I had lost hope in my own abilities because I felt like nobody wanted what I had to offer. I occupied my time with typical daily demands and sank back into depression and anxieties and stopped doing paintings for myself even. Occasionally I would draw something if I felt creative, but my drawings did not turn out to be something meaningful to me. They were just to pass the time and to get my energy out. It wasn’t until I realized that I can be happy just doing art for myself that my art is important just by being my creation. I do put my work out there yes, but I am okay whether- or- not my art is in stores all over the world or people are requesting me to do pieces for them. I have come to realize my art is my therapist and I do it for my peace of mind and my sanctuary. I can create a place to visit if I can’t get away, and that to me is magical.