Trauma triggering change
Trauma
Trauma. That’s it. That’s the topic.
Broadly speaking. Of course trauma can trigger change. I feel like many know this, you experience something horrible that alters your brain in some form. Trauma in my past triggered emotional and mental change in a way I now find useful and helpful in navigating difficult emotional issues. But that is a change that not everyone can see, and it’s a change that I hope to use as little as possible. What about change that people can see? And what about them asking about it?
I bring up this topic, because trauma effected my art work.
Over a year ago now, I experienced a car accident. It was one of those accidents that you literally didn’t see it coming. Now as a child, I broke my arm before. But it wasn’t my dominate hand, and I had the benefit of being a child when it was broken. So largely nothing changed except I wasn’t allowed to play soccer or participate in P.E. class. (Which I honestly never minded) This car accident broke my right wrist in two places. Rendered my car a wreck, limited my ability to work as effectively as I like (as a bartender, you should ideally be able to bend both wrists) but most importantly, I could not draw or paint.
Happily the breaks weren’t bad enough to warrant a hard cover plaster like cast. Instead I was given a removable brace. Only to be removed when showering until healing time had past. While this is more ideal for day to day life, it didn’t change the fact that for a few months, I couldn’t draw or paint. It looked to be like a long process.
Growing up, I was aware my brain wasn’t right. And the endless visits to different doctors and therapists proved it to me while also being on medicine that I didn’t understand why I needed. I resented it a lot as a pre-teen and teenager. As an adult, I understood that it did help. if nothing else, it taught me when I did need that help.
So when I couldn’t go to bed without my boyfriend near by, when I would get stuck in the middle of tasks reliving the car accident in my mind, when I was scared of going anywhere alone, and when I needed to close my eyes when I was a passenger in a car, I knew that I needed that help. Happily, I am a lucky person and had insurance to help find those things. The help came in a form of medication, and counseling/therapy sessions. All that I was familiar with and knew it was a matter of work and time. I could spare that.
Grief on top of Trauma
However, not even a full month after my accident had passed when I experienced a new pain. I had several family pets growing up, but I never had to make the choice to let one go. I never had an accident or illness take them from me fully without warning.
I had a bunny named Maverick. I loved him so dearly and I specifically remember telling him after my accident. “Nothing bad is allowed to happen to you.” Life is cruel and twisted like that sometimes. My little bunny got sick, and by the time I was able to get to a vet that could help rabbits in a time of a Holiday, it was too late. I love animals more than most things, and even now I have the familiar feeling of pain and emotion knocking on the back of my eyes wanting to come out. My Maverick was gone.
When I got home, with his little body to burry somewhere peaceful and pretty, I spent the day crying myself into exhaustion until I fell asleep. That night my boyfriend and I went to bed early. Watched Wall-E projected onto the ceiling, and my next therapy session had another layer to it that had to be worked on.
Loosing something that provided you with comfort and love, in a time where you were already scared and in pain is, for me, much more painful than any broken bones. Everything about that felt unfair. I wanted little to do with most people, and perhaps selfishly thought the world just wanted to shove me down as a final farewell into the new year that would be 2021.
The Change
Time goes on. Emotional pain and grief fades. Bones heal. Therapy helps mend your broken mind. So then drawing becomes an option again.
I started to create again. And i did so at a pace and with a thought process that was very new to me. I did not listen fully to what I was taught on how to make work successful in its final form. I just did what I newly thought to be right. I didn’t touch my usual pens, they were swapped out with a brush and a fluid acrylic based ink. I did not rely on the painting to fill in the blanks on the line work. I wanted the bones to all be in the ink. I wanted the painting to be a final flourish to enhance what was already there.
I spent far more time drawing out the final piece than I think I ever had in the past. I enjoyed it even. While I usually was more eager to paint, now I have become more eager to mark black lines onto white paper. I liked it. I was genuinely happy putting in so much more time in the drawing. Even though I posted much less on my social media pages-something that would often stress me out-I no longer had that feeling. I liked my new pieces and I could tell that they were different.
Others could too.
I had several people tell me over the past year how they’ve seen an evolution to my work. The things I made were new and they told me so! It’s when they asked me “How’d this happen?” that I struggle a little bit in conveying. The only change I could point to was the accident. The pain of loosing my Maverick. The stress of always being scared. Of physically not being able to create.
My brain had changed once more. Manifesting in a very visual form. Even now, as I embark on my largest ink and watercolor piece yet, I can’t deny that how I work and how I want to work has changed.
So why does it matter?
I’m not sure it does in the long haul. I often feel pretentious when people asked about the change, and my answer being one of pain and not a conscious decision to do better. I’m happy to be evolving, but I really wish I had done so of my own volition. I would trade this change to have my bunny back. Any day any time would I make that trade to some unworldly creature.
But life simply goes on. Whether we want to have a change or not. Sometimes we don’t have that choice.
I miss you Maverick.