Mending Me: Art Therapy

Sometimes, even birds don't know when to let go.

We’re in the midst of launch the third in our “sister” sites on, dedicated to the psychology of codependency and love/relationship addiction, recovery and healthy living.  It’s been a challenge because of the needs for video and audio to accompany – this one has downloads.  Guided mediation and relaxation, the ability to buy the incense that I make, free stuff to work out your stress and build your confidence.  No fair wandering over there just yet for all you dedicated RSS  junkies.  It’s way far from set up, and it’s going to take Bri and co a little longer since I’m being a girl and changing the room decor in the site each time a new idea comes in prayer.  But, with 4.5 million searches on the topic a month, you have got to know that there is a need.

I came to an idea today that I’m in love with. Taryn and I are starting journals for the summer months when we’re home together, collage books that tell the story of life, love and self.  It’s therapy for her as she deals with the transition of 1st to 2nd grade, and brother & sissy moving away; it’s therapy for me in that this is a turning point in my own life. May turned out to be about freedom, heart, body and soul.  I cannot express how deeply grateful I am to God for the open clarity and love shown me in these days, the ability to breathe out and let the shadows of yesterday fall away.  But I digress, back to the art journals.

How does it work?  I found a leather bound journal at Half Price Books last Christmas, one with a metal and leather thong clasp.  On it’s pages, I am using scrap booking ideas, cut outs from magazines, cut out pictures, handwritten letters on funky stationary, glue stick glitter, gel pens…whatever strikes me. There is a stack of magazines in the holder that somehow evaded my last goodwill spree, and glue sticks,  double stuffed Oreo’s (to eat, not glue), glitter and odd shaped bits of colored paper.  We’re planning to cut our pictures of the family, things we’ve done, places we have gone…memories, hopes and dreams, all in art, all in expression of self. I am creating pieces of my emotions and life on paper.  Taryn’s is more about the actual art.  She is using construction paper, and we’re going to buy a scrapbook when she’s gotten her groove.  She hasn’t found a book that she likes yet as I did.  There is no right or wrong, but the gratuitous use of stickers and lots of together time.  Try it as a family, or a couple.  Try is as a person in recovery.

The view from my window is cloudy and grey. With it my soul is a little achy.  It’s not for any particular reason, and the blues aren’t coming to call.  I think that it’s latent refusal to do the dishes that I left stacked up last night, which I don’t really do often but ….. I fell asleep early.  I wish that I could tell you I was up writing the very end of Soul Thief, but to my own detriment, I was snoozing. New meds are great with the shaking, I don’t need to rest as much, and my processes are almost back to normal. My own recovery, physically and mentally, progresses. Its not long now until my book is done and there is a second one to be written. Every page of writing or edits takes me closer to the end. I am looking forward to that.  I still throw up constantly and food is unappealing. Ugh.  For once, I have to take them in the evening because I am toast afterwards.  Sleep.

I think that the grey feeling in my chest is one of sadness for a girl I know called Katherine. She’s learning so much about letting go in such a short period of time, and her recovery has been taxed with shadows of low self esteem.  I feel her pain, and realize that the same tendencies we have as “Ms. Fix It’s” extend to our friends, not just the man/woman that we love.  And so here I am, reciting my prayers and taking a deep breath. I am choosing not to react.  I am choosing to remain free, and recognize that I do not have all the answers to life.  She’s had to deal with a lot in her young life.  One day, I will have her tell her story on the Letting Go site.

Well, that is about it for me today.  I have lived in my digital world of magazine articles, scripts, thinking through the first sermon series for the new church venture, mediation…and laundry. I’ve had too much coffee and six Oreo cookies and still need to fold the four loads of laundry piled on my bed before my sweetie arrives and gives me that “not again” look.  Hey, it’s Monday.

There is power in knowing Truth.

Even in those moments when I am just out of the grey, I am so grateful, so thankful to be here in my home, to have this peace. I am grateful to have my family around me, the pictures of them smiling, the view of the trees from my window.   It’s lonely without the SOT, without the friends and noise and pace that I am used to.  God has me here resting for this season, and then on to all that which I’ve been called to do.  I’m glad that you come here and read, friends, from all your places in the world.  We’re never alone are we?

None of us, in this great vast expanse of universe is ever truly alone.

There is too much love, too much light, too much happiness for loneliness to ever prevail.  I’m proud of myself, of you, of us.  I am proud to be a human in the grace of God’s light, and proud to offer a hand in friendship across religions, races, space or time.

And for the many who write, I’ll be right here in the margins if you ever need someone to talk to.


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