In my family, it is always said that "laughter is medicine"... and this is, of course, true. At times.
But not in the wrong dose, at the wrong time. Not when the jokes or comments poke, minimize, or completely distort something that actually holds deeper value or is personally connected to someone else in the room, or their struggles, experience or process.
Am I sensitive? Absolutely. Too sensitive? At times, sure.
AND - sensitivity is the root of my strength as an artist and healing+caring soul, too. But it took me years to see that. Years to be told, to see for myself, and to believe that this is why so many say they feel seen by me. Because I see what others miss, overlook, neglect to consider.
I’m an artist - we see. I’m a healer, of the soulful sort - we get pain points. Because we have seen and been hurt and have had to transform, again and again.
In order to feel like I belonged, was lovable and wouldn't be abandoned or rejected (again) as a kid, I felt I had to laugh at what wasn't so funny to me (even if it was about me), deny my own hurt when others were insensitive or unaware or unable to see beyond their own perception/experience, let myself fade so others could live and think and laugh undisturbed, and hide my true feelings, interests, desires and needs. I have a fire in me, and this wasn’t always easy….
We all have some story like this, some variation of changing or denying ourselves in some way to fit in with the environment and people we grew up with.
This, on top of some truly shitty traumas in my childhood, was a recipe for some serious Shame. About who I am, what I've been through, how I did or didn’t respond, the weight I carry, what I'm worthy or capable of, have a right to want, and what I create.
I'm now ready to transform this painting in the right ways, for the right reasons. The perspective shift had to come first, though. And that took a few years, with this painting turned toward the wall of my studio, while I left the art piece to investigate what it had triggered in my life.
While the comment made about this painting was really more about the insensitivity of someone else's humor, it became an invitation back into a raw feeling I needed to revisit, remember and recognize as still untended - to get back to the root of unconscious conditioning, pain and disempowerment.
To Be With that Little Me, hiding away, feeling misunderstood and unseen, and in so much pain.
To get mad and NOT bury it… and then, by the gift of grace, forgive.
To bless, and not blame.
To disentangle from what was never my shit to begin with, and pick up what I always had a right to call my own and to feel.
To lay rest, set free, and rise up once again, a little bit lighter and true.
It takes time, and it takes the time it takes.
Painting over her now - the one who is peeking through on that board - is not an act of covering up or hiding in shame, in the ways I did to get by before. Or how it would have been if I had just covered her up in the wake of the comment that burned. Instead, it is composting what served its purpose, to grow a new story once and for all - my story, my laughter, my perspective and truth… with all my creative needs and vital sensitivity, too.
So, I say to the spirit of the first painting as she begins her metamorphosis: Rest in peace, sweet+unexpected instigator of healing, with your downcast eyes. Your creation story is much more than I imagined, and ready for its next life-cycle of becoming.
To you, dear reader, I say this: if you are a sensitive or intuitive soul, it is no accident or defect. This is how God made you to be, in this time. It is a medicine the world needs more of, and adds depth and attentiveness to your creativity. It is the maker of true strength and compassion. Do not doubt this power you’ve been gifted. Use it to see, feel, guide, express, engage, empower, challenge, heal and know others and Life beyond the superficial. Use it to transform every story or coping behavior that ever held you back or down or put you in hiding or unhealthy cycles of shame. See and Be Seen. Do not be afraid.