starting journals, hospital
i started doing art in my journals in college, and painting time was the only time i felt sane and in control. it took me years to realize i needed this consistently. i did projects here and there, and in between was a wreck. i was in and out of therapy, on and off meds (heavy anti-depressants at this point) and basically just trying to get from day to day. i did hold down a job at a group home for autistic adults, which was the most amazing job i could have imagined. these clients were some of the most interesting people i ever met. as i did art with them, i learned how powerful it was as a communication tool. i began doing more for myself, and started a collage journal - cut and paste mostly. if you knew how many hours and days i spent cutting up magazines...it only helped part of my life. my job was challenging and my life was getting serious.
at some point i gave up, and everything crashed down on me. i took a bunch of meds and ended up in the psych ward for 3 weeks. as i laughed at those aides who tried to coerce me into the craft room to make potholders, i found strips of embroidered ribbons and tassels. i wanted them. so i started a "pillow" of hoarded scraps which got bigger and bigger over the 3 weeks i was there. then i had my boyfriend (now my husband) bring in my journal and magazines and glue, and i was allowed to have scissors under supervision. apparently they hadn't noticed the sculpture i created out of the wire hanger i found in my room (?!). when i had my things in my hands i was strong - i had a place to hide and a means to have authority over my mind. i remember the curiosity and interest my art and supplies triggered..and wide-eyed glares from the social workers and nurses. made me smile....
i started doing art in my journals in college, and painting time was the only time i felt sane and in control. it took me years to realize i needed this consistently. i did projects here and there, and in between was a wreck. i was in and out of therapy, on and off meds (heavy anti-depressants at this point) and basically just trying to get from day to day. i did hold down a job at a group home for autistic adults, which was the most amazing job i could have imagined. these clients were some of the most interesting people i ever met. as i did art with them, i learned how powerful it was as a communication tool. i began doing more for myself, and started a collage journal - cut and paste mostly. if you knew how many hours and days i spent cutting up magazines...it only helped part of my life. my job was challenging and my life was getting serious.
at some point i gave up, and everything crashed down on me. i took a bunch of meds and ended up in the psych ward for 3 weeks. as i laughed at those aides who tried to coerce me into the craft room to make potholders, i found strips of embroidered ribbons and tassels. i wanted them. so i started a "pillow" of hoarded scraps which got bigger and bigger over the 3 weeks i was there. then i had my boyfriend (now my husband) bring in my journal and magazines and glue, and i was allowed to have scissors under supervision. apparently they hadn't noticed the sculpture i created out of the wire hanger i found in my room (?!). when i had my things in my hands i was strong - i had a place to hide and a means to have authority over my mind. i remember the curiosity and interest my art and supplies triggered..and wide-eyed glares from the social workers and nurses. made me smile....
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