Art heals and empowers - the journey continues

Colour and lines

My journey with brushes began about 20 years ago, during one of many—oh, so many—relentlessly challenging periods of my life: my father’s battle with an aggressive form of cancer. Twenty years. How has it been that long? It feels both like another lifetime and as if it happened only yesterday. Those days were a blur of despair, exhaustion, and sheer helplessness. Painting found its way into my life unexpectedly, as if by chance, in the form of an A4 paint-by-numbers kit. The design—a vibrant, cheerful bank of colorful fish—was almost absurd amidst the suffocating heaviness that surrounded me. But I’ll never forget it. For a brief moment, as I carefully filled each tiny section, I felt something other than despair. Those simple strokes gave me a fragile sense of control in the uncontrollable, a flicker of calm amid the chaos.

Those days were endless cycles of desperation. Bribing hospital staff for anything—anything—that might ease his suffering, even if only a little. Visiting churches and monasteries I didn’t even believe in anymore, offering money to priests, lighting candles, begging them to pray for miracles that never came. And still, nothing helped. Nothing. I was so tired. So hollowed out by the weight of it all.

And yet, there was that tiny paint-by-numbers kit, so out of place in my grief. Somehow, it became a lifeline. A way to breathe when the air felt too thick with sorrow. A way to survive those endless days when there seemed to be no other way forward.

When caring for a loved one or navigating tough situations, it’s all too easy to let self-care fall by the wayside. I’ve been there—overwhelmed, exhausted, and running on fumes. Yet, I’ve learned that even in the darkest moments, self-care doesn’t have to be elaborate or time-consuming. Sometimes, it’s as small and meaningful as picking up a brush, drawing a line, creating an image, or writing a single word.

In those moments of fight-or-flight, painting and writing became more than just hobbies—they were lifelines. They gave me a way to process emotions I couldn’t express, to create beauty amidst difficulty, and to reclaim little pockets of peace. Those small acts of creativity reminded me of my resilience and helped me keep going, one stroke at a time.

Here’s a piece from my Art Heals and Empowers daily creative notes—a continuation of my daily reflections and sharing.

What can you do to regain control? Start by breathing deeply, and repeat to yourself, "In this moment, I am safe. Right now, I am okay." Focus on these words, letting them remind you that, in this second, everything is truly alright.

As a multilingual person, I realized today that only one of my languages makes me feel truly at ease—a language I can hear without any sense of apprehension or trauma. This insight struck me while watching some old Russian films on YouTube. Russian, for me, is free of any painful associations; it’s my comfort blanket, my safe space, my sweet spot. I wonder if anybody else can relate to this concept.

Surviving narcissistic abuse shatters one’s sense of self. Growing up in a home marked by manipulation and control, children learn to fragment themselves simply to survive, often splitting off parts of who they are to appease or escape harm. This constant state of fragmentation leaves a deep, hidden scar—one that reveals itself painfully in adulthood, when questions about identity start to emerge.

When those fragile threads that once held us together finally unravel, it feels as if life itself breaks into pieces. Putting those pieces back together becomes a profound, difficult journey. Here, I think of kintsugi—the Japanese art of mending broken pottery with gold. Reassembling the fragments of our lives, with those golden seams left visible, becomes a testament to our resilience and courage. Our scars tell a story of strength. They become a reminder of the beauty that emerges from survival, of a life reassembled and even more valuable because of what we’ve endured. What emotions does this piece of art bring up for you? How does it relate to your own journey of healing?

How to give your mind a break from some negative chain of thoughts? Sometimes painting works beautifully. This morning new layers were added to a new diary. Each layer, another story! Each diary with a unique message. This one will be - believe in yourself!

Yesterday was one of those days when PTSD played tricks on me. Suddenly, out of nowhere, I heard the hissing sound made by the owner of the business I work for until recently, and it replayed in my mind, freezing me with fear. My breathing spiraled out of control, and my entire being shifted into a state of fight or flight. Slowly, I focused on my breath and allowed myself to dwell in the present, which helped me return to a more balanced place. Afterward, I wrote about the experience in Chapter 16 of Naked Truthand then picked up my brushes. Wonder how do you deal with such moments?

Life is more stressful than ever, and the pressures we face can feel overwhelming. Some of the coping tools we relied on in the past may no longer work. If you're ready to try something new, consider picking up a paint-by-numbers kit and starting with just one brushstroke. It's a wonderful way to ease any fears about creativity and could mark the beginning of a beautiful friendship between you, your brushes, and the paints.

One of my dreams is to write a novel, inspired by real events but with a touch of fiction in it. Will it happen? I don’t know! Writing as and when I find the energy and time while navigating the choppy waters of life.

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