Back in 2001, I took a class for my Masters at Hamline called Art and Wellness with Professor Rosalie Ultan. I had been grappling with chronic pain and illness for years and chose it because of the theme of wellness. I hadn't taken an art class since 7th grade when I got the lowest grade of my life which convinced me that I was no artist. I checked out the textbooks from the library, took my book money, went to the art store, and bought art supplies instead- a 14 x 17 sketchbook, acrylic paints, brushes, cray-pas, and colored pencils. In the making and discussing of our art projects, I understood art as more than technique and elements for the first time. I was intrigued by the stories people told, the emotions the pieces contained, the way ideas became tangible. I drew and painted a few pieces and began my quilt.
When the class finished, I set my art journal aside for three years. During this time, my daughter Anjali was born and six frantic weeks later, I began counseling. I was deeply unhappy, was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and spent two years exploring why. In 2004, I began taking personal retreats to the Wilderness Fellowship outside of Grantsburg, WI. I committed to myself that in keeping with my theme for that year- "Cultivating an appreciation for myself and my own company"- that I would spend a day a month alone. As I drove to the first retreat in January, I had a severe panic attack, initiating the process of remembering my twin brother who had died in utero. Within weeks, I was remembering childhood sexual abuse and suffering from day after day of rolling panic attacks. As the childhood roots of my PTSD symptoms finally were revealed to me, I became less and less able to talk about them, perhaps because I had experienced these traumas before I could speak. I stopped counseling because I had nothing to say. And I began bringing my art supplies along on retreat. It was during this season that my art became mine- an expression, a remembrance, an incarnation, an exploration, a way of being and living. My art was for me alone and I showed it to no one.
In 2006, I gave birth to my son Mark. Within weeks of his birth, I returned to counseling for another 2 1/2 years, struggling with severe PTSD and traumatic memories. Images came back more than words and I recorded them in my art journal. I found bodywork of several varieties very helpful. In 2008, I was still deeply unhappy and late in that year and into 2009, I had to confront my codependency, deep dysfunction, and miserable relationships. Surprising especially me, I became best friends with my sister and together we hiked out of the mess, month after month.
And then, after everything and everything, there was 2010. Conversation Circle started. We switched churches and joined a homeschool co-op. I stopped going to counseling. The nightmares diminished. I started learning yoga, joined weight Watchers, and lost 40 pounds. Tim, Anjali, and I took square dance lessons. I was happier than I had ever been. I began to ask how to unwrap my life from the sword, how to go home to peace at the end of the war. We went on a family vacation to Hot Springs, SD. I had two badly infected teeth pulled and then had surgery to remove an abscess in my sinus above where they'd been. Through it all, I've done my art. I've become an artist- not for others, not for money- but for myself. I art to live deeply into my life and my body.
Which brings us to 2011. My theme for this year is "Happy, happy, happy." And reconnecting with my dear traveling companions and reflecting on my journey brings me great happiness.