Art therapy

Sunken Places

If you've see the movie Get Out, then you know about the "sunken place". The more I've thought and read analysis of what that place represents in the movie, the more I've been thinking about and questioning my own sunken places. I'm of course curious to know what they look like and what ecosystems exist within each one. What enables and sustains their survival? How do they co-exist with our whole, embodied parts of self? Can you live with more than one exist within us simultaneously or is it just one centralized place in our being you are plunged into repeatedly, at various points in our lives? How is it created? Does it form and evolve over time or does instantaneously come into being, fully developed to hold us hostage? Where does it go when we heal/recover/outgrow/are freed from it? 

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 If you think about it, every trauma we experience in this life, has its own sunken place it transports us to upon impact...I even think that perhaps the sunken places that exist inside of us are simply the places that become houses for our former selves, the iterations of self we're forced to leave behind for whatever reason...they could also be where inherited family trauma dwells, couldn't they? 

I have so many questions but am hoping painting through them leads to at least a few answers or starting points. 

Coping With Rejection and Mixed Episodes (Part One)

I've been pitching my words + art to various publications and places almost weekly since January. Some incredible opportunities have come my way over the last few months from simply sharing my work + process out there on Instagram, but I've yet to have a pitch accepted. Overall the rejections haven't impacted me too greatly. I've only had two really hit me in the gut and one of them came to my inbox yesterday. 5% of it what was mentioned about the paintings I submitted was constructive. 95% of it wasn't and that 95% crushed me unexpectedly when I read it. 

I'm also experiencing my first mixed episode in months. Cycling through slight hypomania (which for me usually manifests as agitation & anxiety) and depression simultaneously is unsettling. My thoughts form, splinter or fracture into bits, then fuse together repeatedly and trying to get anything substantial done is damn near futile. I always feel untethered and raw, like an exposed nerve ending when I experience these types of episodes. I'm assuming that's why yesterday's rejection landed like a sucker punch to my soul instead a slight but bearable sting like the others before it. 

To cope, I did two things: abandoned my To-Do list and allowed myself to get lost in painting without thinking. It got me through the day and served as my oxygen mask.

That's what painting has become for me...the oxygen I need to survive.  

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