When I first started this blog, I had decided not to incorporate my own personal stories. For one reason or another, I believed they would not be pertinent. However, as a recent divorce has left me with a greater life perspective, I am now rejecting this initial decision.
A woman's experience should always be shared, as it is through this relation to the sisterhood that we all find greater insight and awareness.
I haven't been blogging regularly since November due to the deterioration of my marriage. It was emotionally consuming, and I found it hard to deal with anything outside the relationship. As saddening as this sounds, amongst the emotional rubble, a sense of empowerment has slowly and unexpectedly been creeping up on me.
In the beginning, I was a mess - completely confused and lost. I cried, sent desperate emails, and tried to seek answers that would never be found. I began ruminating. Every thought revolved around the demise of my marriage, and I quickly realized that I had to find a better outlet or would soon face the demise of my sanity as well.
So I turned to something that I have always held very dear: my art. I began creating once again - something I had put on the back burner for most of the time spent in the relationship. In almost an instant, an explosion of creativity was upon me. I began elaborately sewing, keeping a mandala journal , and even better - painting.
Everything was in technicolor once again, and my own life path came into focus. Ahhh, the power of art. The magnificent process of creation that cleverly knows the best path to healing.
I have taught fine art and creative writing courses over the past three years, and love it dearly. However, through my own recent art, I began to realize that it wasn't the teaching that I adored, but moreso the process and emotions involved in the creation process.
I loved helping people achieve painting styles that reflected their own personalities, and loved helping people realize how their own stories were all woven together to bring about a greater sense of self. It was in this realization that I found my true calling: art therapy.
I have found passion engulfing me for the first time in years. I haven't stopped reading about art therapy - the advances, the history, the techniques - you name it and it's either on my book shelf, blog roll, or awaiting my credit card's attention in my Amazon cart. I've even started to use techniques I would have never considered to complete my own healing, and have enrolled in multiple psychology courses to get my self on track for my Master's in Art Therapy.
So if there is one thing to learn, it is that even in spite of tragedy, a beautiful rebirth is waiting. Although the path can be full of tears, painful heart ache, and moving boxes and packing tape, in the end, you can walk away with a greater sense of self - even if it is a little splattered with paint - that is now set to inspire and better your little corner of the world.
