a view from the rollercoaster
raw. open. exposed. come on in
It’s been a month since we’ve posted …
My dad died. And I didn’t have words. For days upon days
I didn’t have words.
And for days upon days I had no emotion. Other than the glimmers of fragments of what seemed too unbearable
So I shoved them back down and cleaned.
Washed in fact
I washed and washed
And then I began to paint walls
Refresh the walls that hold the space
Give them new life
I painted and washed and painted and washed.
Up and down ladders
On tippie toes
On hands and knees
My whole body hurt
But my mind was numb.
Because, just like that, life was gone
And for days and days on end I beat myself up about what I should be doing
Like writing here
But if I coulda I woulda
But I didn’t because I couldn’t
Not because I wouldn’t
If I coulda, I woulda and yeah, I probably shoulda but I didn’t cos I couldn’t and not because I wouldn’t
It’s rare that I’m fair
But everything has changed
And everything is changing
I am going to be fair to myself
My dad died
And I have been scattered
Like fallen leaves decompose slowly until they rejuvenate the soil
So did I
For days I had nothing to say
Thinking tomorrow I might
The soil feels richer now
Writing and photo by Kendall
How was this Art Therapy for Self?
After 4 weeks of isolating and hibernating and caving, I forced myself to go sit in a beautiful garden and take out my camera and start using my old tools - like self regulation photography. I started zooming in and photographing everything around me and playing with filters and angles and exposures. And, as I did so, I gave my overthinking, overworking brain a break. Because not thinking is a kind of overthinking … in a roundabout way … and it definitely takes a ton of work. So we played and focused and so we rested. And then I looked for images that could speak what I was feeling and again, I began to just let myself snap as many shots as I enjoyed. Yes, enjoyed. And frame what I felt. Yes, felt - because I had not felt in a long time. And, in doing all this, I brought myself back to life. It hasn’t been instantaneous “bam, I‘m back” but it has certainly been the beginning … I have been in a cave for a month and now I am sitting in the entrance way, feeling the wind against my skin and blinking in the new light. Thank you art.
How to join: please come in
Many many days we feel alone or lost or just utterly discombobulated (fave word). Other days we feel like we are awash with wisdom or insight or hope. It's a rollercoaster alright!
Probably the most vital thing for us on our journey is that we are not travelling alone. We have the world's most magnificent friends, access to amazing therapy and a whole lot of serendipity of perhaps divine intervention?
I don't know about you, but rollercoasters all alone are no fun. So let's share the ride - the more the merrier, as "they" say (who are "they" anyway? This time "they" are right).
So here's where we share openly and authentically and expose ourselves with all our bits and pieces. At first we wanted to title this section "hanging out the dirty laundry" but then we realised it wasn't dirty, it was just life.
So please, journey with us. Let's hold one another and find encouragement in togetherness as we go Doooooown and UP. Because we always do. Smile
Same as always, follow along, add your own, riff off ours.
If you're feeling brave, post your versions in our comment feed so others can be inspired too. Or upload to your own social media (be sure to use our hashtags - #veryhumanrollercoaster - so we can find each other). Either way, make sure to comment on posts by others and encourage one another as we find new voices.
The only rules are: RESPECT!
See you in there!
Leonora et al