Those of you who know me…know that I live with anxiety. And yeah…I can’t really even pass it off as one of those cool artist kind of things. Because it’s not cool. Oddly, I don’t usually think of myself as a person with an anxiety disorder, which is funny, since a pretty solid chunk of my day is governed by the fact that I am a person with anxiety disorder. Anxiety can turn something as simple as my morning chores into a psychological game show, where I’m constantly trying to figure out the correct answer before the timer runs out. Do I get dressed now in case I need to go to the hospital for a terminal disease/heart attack/catastrophic health event, or wait because if I move it might just set off the cascading effects of said disease/heart attack/catastrophe? Oops, you chose wrong, and now you’re having a panic attack! Not only that but you’re not even dressed properly…lol. But thank you for playing “Generalized Anxiety Disorder”!
Over the years I’ve used lots of therapies…some that worked and some that were laughable but hey…I tried them just in case. But here’s the point. The one that has been most valuable…the one that is a life saver….is my journaling practice. My right arm is my secret weapon. When I feel overwhelmed, chaotic, in over my head, when it feels like the end of the world…I sit down to practice my art in a journal. I sit down to tour my imagination, and get those subconscious thoughts out on paper. You can’t heal if you don’t deal…lol. To get all hippiewoo on you. And here’s what I know. Anxiety, for me, is coming from suppressed emotions/thoughts. I make it a practice to share those thoughts and emotions everyday. In my journal. I let my subconscious out to take a walk. To send light to those dark crazy spaces. Because anxiety is not the boss of me. It’s not even a good survival technique for me. And It’s most definitely not a good fashion look for me. True Story!