How painting saved my life.
Ever since my cancer diagnosis, other than my family and close friends, I can hands-down claim that painting has saved me. I did a podcast the other day with the lovely Heather Kerr from The Unlikely Artist. We had a wonderful chat about my art journey, and touched a bit on my cancer diagnoses. As we walked through my coming back to my paints during this dark time in my life, it dawned on me that I think painting saved me more than I ever knew.
As I talked through my experience of revisiting my paints after years and years of neglect, I realized that I think part of why I wanted to paint, specifically, during my cancer treatment was because it was something that fed my soul PRIOR to my diagnosis. It was something I did when I felt young and free. Even before my cancer journey, I can admit that I was stuck in the grind that so many of us find ourselves in. I had a full time job as a teacher, got married, bought a house, had kids… sound familiar?
Painting was something I just "never” had time for. Even the act of setting up an easel and a palette of paints seemed too daunting, too time consuming to even contemplate. It was something I associated with highschool- and university-Alex, not this adult version I had silently morphed into.
But cancer gave me a gift. It forced me to stop. Not just slow down, but really, truly STOP. It stripped me of my identity in practically every way, which was a devastating blow to an already extremely overwhelming diagnosis. It made me look different, act different, feel different and even think differently. But throughout all of this change, in all the uncertainty, no matter how sick I felt, I had this burning desire inside of me to create. The make something with my hands. My paints, it seemed, were calling.
It dawned on me in my chat with Heather that not only did painting give me an incredibly therapeutic and beautiful means of fulfilling this need to create, but it also brought me a sense of identity that I was so desperately seeking.
I knew I didn’t want to waste my life. I was getting a second chance at it and my GOD was I determined not to let that pass me by without some serious, intentional changes. Before getting caught up in the day-to-day act of living, I wanted to be damn sure I was going to go about it in a way that felt free and calm and beautiful. I wanted to create space for beauty, for truly enjoying each and every day - even if it was just a simple act of organizing a paint drawer, or noticing the sun shining through a window in the afternoon.
Painting was the answer. I just knew it was. Every ounce in my body told me this was what I wanted to be doing with this beautiful life of mine, no matter the sacrifices that had to be made. Because not only would it allow me to create a new identity that felt authentically me, but it also allowed me to feel a sense of comfort and belonging in that art and the act of painting was what used to fuel my soul for YEARS before I woke up one day, only to realize I had suddenly turned into an adult. Before home ownership, before babies, before cancer, painting and the world of art used to feed me in ways that nothing else has since.
Really, this blog post is really just a thank you note to my paints, but also (in a way) a thank you to my cancer journey - for allowing me the chance to remember what truly makes me feel like me.
Thank you so much for reading this, friend. I would be so honoured if you continued to join me on this wild journey of mine. Be sure to click below to sign up for my e-mail list, where I share the ins and outs of my art business, as well as give you first dibs on all new work and event details!