It is an interesting turn of events, actually ironic, that as a child and well into my teenage years, visual art was a passion of mine. I went to an arts high school where over half of my courses were in Fine Art, applied to BFA and Art programs at the post-secondary level and until my early twenties envisioned a career in the fine arts. Sculpture, print making and photography were especially fascinating to me. Even when I switched career paths away from fine art, photography exhibits, art galleries, artisan crafts and art books were still a source of great solace for me. Where is the irony? Well, now that I need to be involved in expessive art, I can’t! I mean, it is extremely difficult.
For months, I have been trying to reach one of my Alters; a young child, maybe 4 years of age, who is immobilized as she sits on the bed, and in turn immobilizes me. She is not only helpless and sad but she is completely speechless. Of course, she is the one who actually lived through the repeated rape and still holds the memory and pain associated with the trauma.
For years, I have known art is important to recovery but I have only been able to pursue art sporadically. Occasionally I visited an art gallery or collected art books. For brief periods of time, I studied photography, wondered about pottery. Most successful was my quilting as it lasted a few years and I even created a few pieces. Quilting is as close as I could get to expressive art, and I do love it.
Now that I have come to understand my Alter who I call, “the little one”, I decided to try again. Lynne, my trauma therapist persisted in telling me that drawing will tap memories and feelings that “the little one” could not articulate.; she would not have had the words to express what happened, and the secrecy around it would not have allowed “the little one” to speak up; that I could discover more about how to help her through drawing. I resisted for months; terrified to even pull out some paper or create anything with craft material. Someone will see it- I argued in my mind – I will get in trouble.
After 3 months I finally purchased a thick sketch book and 2 months after that, I was able to put pencil crayon to paper and this is what happened:
This was a huge break through for me. After I worked down the feelings of terror associated with coloring, I backed away because all I could think of was to draw was a thick black hole that I wanted to stab and rip to pieces. Thanks to Lynne’s encouragement and ability to instill a safe place for me, I made myself sit down with pencil crayons and my sketch book. However, I wouldn’t have been able to draw without my mother sitting with me and drawing first (see top of post for her picture). I watched her for a long time, enjoying her whimsical, sweet drawing and listening to her reminders that I was safe. When she was almost finished, I drew a green line, back and forth, in the top left corner. I was commitment to “the little one”; she could express what ever she wanted.
It was amazing in that I felt I was sharing something good with “the little one”, that I was helping her. This was empowering for me as I experienced a sense of control- of making something good happen for my Alter and in turn for me.
It was awful in that, I saw horrible things in the drawing. It represented aspects of the rape. Without even trying and certainly not planning it as I don’t remember, I created a symbolic picture representing the rape. When I look at my drawing I see sexual body parts; a vagina, the top of a penis repeatedly trying to force through. I see blood, groups of lines pushing and pulling, tension driving through the small hole at the top. I felt the pain at the bottom of my spine and a burning jab across my pelvic bone. I was alarmed by this and did not try again for several weeks, but with my mother’s encouragement and modelling, I did try again.
The second drawing proved to me that the theme was no coincidence. Again, I let go; let my pencil crayon go where it wanted- whatever “the little one” wanted to express. Again, the shapes and colors became sexualized; this time zoomed in and focused on the vagina as if it were an anatomy drawing showing layers of skin, blood, and interfering objects over and over again. I was still very uncomfortable with this but not shocked this time. Clearly this is the way “the little one” needs to tell me what she experienced. I have only a few memories that are like still images, but she knows the full story and can likely tell it through multiple images. Definitely insightful for me!
The anxiety has reduced, however, there is a part of me that just doesn’t want to know. This is not helpful, I know. For this reason, I am working on coaching myself to color some more. I haven’t been able to yet, but it is still a goal and of course, something I do have to do. I also have not acknowledged out loud what she is trying to show/tell me (except a little bit to Lynne) and that is likely part of my denial as well.
I do want to help “the little one” as she can help me understand a few more things about my traumatic experiences. I feel it is the right thing to do for her and synthesizing my experience through the coloring will help me move towards more integration.
It occurs to me now as I write this, that I can write “the little one” a letter. I can encourage her and see if I can flush out and understand my fear. I will get on that now!
NOTE- I’ve started writing a post summarizing the theory behind each issue I struggle with, as well as another post with tips on what to do. I will start providing these additional two links at the bottom of each post.
Would love your feedback!
Theory: Art Therapy: Why does it work?
Making Good 