Expressive Arts Therapy

I'll be honest, I have no idea how to start this post. I (quite literally) just completed a six day intensive retreat for my new masters' program in expressive arts therapy. Here is a link to the program website. It was a lot and it was full and it was fulfilling. And now I'm telling you.

I'm telling you. Whoever "you" are. I know I haven't been writing a lot in the past few years. I have invested myself in my teaching work and in my self care and in understanding myself, my neurodivergence, and my place in the world. Now I have come full circle in a completely different mindset, and I am moving forward towards my work and my purpose in the world.

In my darkest times, deep in my depression and misdiagnosis and overmedication, I found art. I discovered a way to express myself, through writing, drawing, and slam poetry. This creative expression offered me power. When my entire life was controlled by medication schedules and overwhelming side effects and counting minutes and sleeping too much-- I found healing.

In case you are unaware, my mental health journey is complex to say the least. One of my professors talked about identifying labels with trauma, and how the term "victim" turns to "survivor" turns to "advocate". This is how I view my journey.

My victim time was basically all of my teenage years. Around 12 years old, I started exhibiting symptoms of depression. My usual excitement for school and enjoyment of learning turned to sluggish indifference and a hopeless disposition. I did not want to wake up, I did not want to go to school, I did not want to enjoy life in the way I so often did.

Because this will be relevant later, I will add that I was not exactly a perfectly normal child. I was well-behaved, yes, and full credit to my parents and upbringing for raising a value-based, curious, and creative young woman. I had always been a sensitive child, my mom even photocopying a definition of "the highly sensitivie child" for my teachers prior to the beginning of the school year. I became overstimulated incredibly quickly, and avoided loud restaurants and crowds and social gatherings. Because my parents are wonderful Jewish community leaders, this was more relevant to me than most. I could not simply get by sitting in my room or engaging in the safe embrace of my family. Throughout childhood, I was in situations and spaces that were overstimulating and uncomfortable, and this was a source of distress.

I had odd tics and unique rituals. I had difficulty making eye contact with adults and I often spoke in a blunt and somewhat humorous way.  I had a strong sense of justice and feeling that things had to be done right. I had friends, but really only stayed close with one person at a time. In preschool, this was my best friend Beverly, in elementary and middle school, my to this day best friend Hallie, and in high school...well, high school is another story. High school could be a lonely time, but my family kept me close and safe and loved. 

I remember my mom wondering aloud about my seemingly contradictory emotional regulation skills throughout grade school. She knew all my teachers, and I was in a small class in a private school where I was able to hold it all together for the whole day. I was a perfect student, I rarely cried or got overly emotional, and never had anger or outbursts or even a loud voice. But as soon as I collapsed in my mother's arms at the end of the day, I broke down.

So with that, and with a renewed understanding of child development and neurodivergence, I just want to say:

Thank you, Ima/mom/Marci, for being my safe space in all I was feeling as I grew and changed. Thank you for holding space for me to feel all my feelings at the end of the day, for preparing me snacks as I got home from school and for providing me with organization and structure in my disorganized and emotional mind. Thank you for being someone I feel safe breaking down into, someone who will hold me and love me and be there, no matter what.

Thank you Abba/dad/Marc, for teaching me everything I never understood intrinsically. Thank you for giving me space to grow and learn and make mistakes, and for being a safe place to land when times got tough. Thank you for teaching me to see the perspectives of the world, of change and of difference, and of empathy and values. Thank you for who you were then, as I was growing, and thank you for being a strong leader and co-learner as I continue to grow in adulthood. 

I am going to publish this now, incomplete as it is, because done is better than perfect. My brain is tired and my body is exhausted and right now, I need rest. But this story, this writing, this language based art, is in progress. And I will be back.