Plunging deep into the plush couch cushions, nothing beats the cozy holiday flavor of warm chai rooibos tea on a late night after the children are finally asleep, watching re-runs of Little House on the Prairie while drifting off to dream land. Yeah, right. If only it were truly quiet and serene in the dark hours of night. Real life is more like flopping down onto the torn vinyl couch, wearing a vomit-stained shirt and the hideous pants dear mother-in-law gifted us at Christmas time that were now the only clean pair left in the house, and bawling my eyes out for the third time. The entire container of creamy chocolate and peanut butter ice cream, purchased just yesterday, is almost devoured, and surely, I did not consume both two-liter bottles of mountain dew in a forty-eight hour period by myself! The empty box of snack cakes is part of maintaining my girlish figure, complimenting my pro-wrestling abilities to get two active toddlers and an infant to sleep within the last half-hour before midnight!
And forget Little House on the Prairie. I need “Grey’s Anatomy”- McDreamy, McSteamy, the works!- “How to Get Away with Murder”, and literally ANYTHING that is not Elmo, considering that the little minions will all be awake for church and jumping on my bed in a mere five hours. All I want is sleep; pure, precious, seven-days-worth of sleep. Even if I slept for a month, however, I would not truly feel rested because I am more than just physically exhausted. I am drained mentally and emotionally, continually walking a tight rope between anxiety and depression, juggling diapers and ministry while avoiding triggers and trying to move forward with life. What I need are ways to care for myself throughout the day so I can do more than simply manage and “get through” with yet another bowl of ice cream.
This exercise begins by asking what your self-care truly looks like and how it has changed since the occurrence of trauma(s). In my life, I drastically shifted towards stress-eating enormous amounts of sweets, while compulsively working, planning and cleaning when I could be sleeping, and curling up on my bed as often as possible because I was not ready to deal with the day. I have almost all together given up on make-up and looking at least half-way put together when I walk out the door, and time to myself is a rare gem. The assignment challenged me to look for pictures that represent people, places, things, ideas, locations, etc. that can enhance my overall well-being. Now, as with any of the previous art exercises, I have dreaded searching through magazines, but once again, this technique has proven not only beneficial, but valuable. Rather than limiting self-care ideas to baths and long walks, I realized that I specifically need to be outdoors, around people and pets despite my enhanced fears of social settings, especially in church, and I remembered that I truly love music. Our old church was against everything except for hymns too old for copyright and melodic remembrance, while encouraging isolation limited to an encompassing gossip circle more intricate than politics during election year. I needed out of the house and I needed freedom. I wanted to look beautiful again and feel beautiful again, whether that was modern clothing, understanding make-up, wearing jewelry, or simply putting on some high heels (aka “prostitute shoes” according to my old mentor).
My favorite part of the pictures I found, however, are the pants that say, “Made You Look!” Just before creating this picture, I finally stepped out of my comfort zone of legalistic dress standards and bought a dark blue pair of boot-cut jeans and guess what? People did not stare at me because I was different. People did not automatically assume that I hated their guts. And guess what else? I felt alive. From there, I started a strict diet and workout, resulting in losing almost thirty pounds in two months. I felt human again, but more than that, I felt like I was learning who I was again apart from the cult-crazy. And taking care of myself through the day made life’s difficulties a little more manageable. Oh, and while I was not comfortable with dancing beforehand, I have found that baltering – dancing artlessly, without particular grace or skill, but with enjoyment- allows me to dance off loads of stress and connect with my inner child again.
*For more art therapy ideas from Managing Traumatic Stress through Art, check out the full list of exercises from the blog post: “Managing Traumatic Stress Through Art.“
