By the time my husband moved out for the fourth (and final) time I was already running on empty. I had completely lost myself in the course of an emotionally abusive marriage while raising three sons, working as a doctor, and, oh yeah—striving for perfection. I had spent years aiming to please a person who could not and would not be pleased. (“More, more, more… How do you like it? How do you like it?” went the refrain.)*
So I did what any over-giving person with codependent tendencies would do: I gave and I gave, turning myself upside down and inside out. More and more of me emptied out.
Running on empty and suffering from utter depletion was, of course, bad enough; now with an impending divorce I was completely broken open, too.
All those emotions I had not known how to access or identify (I’m a doctor, I’m cerebral. Heart? What heart?) came boiling up to the surface, fast and furious, a cauldron of red hot lava spilling over, threatening to burn all and any (including me) in its messy path. I needed to do something.
But what?
Therapy, of course, helped. Journaling helped (pages and pages of pain, anger, tears, victimhood, blaming, desperation, hopelessness, devastation—it wasn’t pretty), running helped, friends helped, family helped.
But I was lost. And sad. And mad. After years of living a cerebrally-charged emotionally illiterate life my emotions were rebelling. I was rebelling. I’d had it with the “shit of should,” the people-pleasing, the self-sacrificing. Sure, I had been “successful” in life (I was a doctor, you know)— and— I was a dismembered red hot broken- open mess.
I knew I had to somehow rediscover, reclaim, and reconnect with my Self, with my lost selves. I had to become whole again. I had to re-integrate the parts of me that had been abandoned or discarded along the way in order to conform, behave, belong, win approval, and gain affection.
Who was I? I asked myself. The real me, the whole me? What were my values? What were my dreams, my aspirations? What had I accomplished that I could (no, make that should) be proud of? What was I grateful for? What did I treasure?
It was time to get curious. Time to explore. Time for my forgotten, mischievous, goofy, wondering, wandering, spirited inner child to make a reappearance. It was time to get creative. It was time to play.
Carrie Fisher said, “Take your broken heart and make it into art.”
Well, I had a broken heart. Perhaps it was time to make some art.
I began to create. I became immersed in the art of assemblage. (Ironically, as my life was disassembling I was assembling various objects into weird and wacky and fun creations.) I found myself playing with toys. I was assembling, I was reassembling. This was (gasp!) fun.
My “Curious about Me Curio” is the distillation of this self-exploration, this quest to find and know myself, my many selves. It is my reminder of who I am, what I am, where I’ve been, and where I’m heading.
Making art enabled me to connect with, accept, identify, name, and express my long-neglected emotions in a way in which no one got burned. (Not literally, anyway.) I found myself healing through the process of creativity and through humor. I was able to make light from dark—true alchemy. (Unfortunately, gold from lead is a bit harder to master.)
The process of creating puts me in “flow.” (A “flow” activity is described as an activity in which one is energetically engaged, completely focused, and sufficiently— but not overly— challenged, i.e. “in the zone.”) I personally know I’m engaged in a “flow” activity when I lose track of time— and I forget to eat and to pee. I guess you could say the time flows, the creative juices flow, the urine doesn’t. (Ok, face palm here…)
Making art is fun, it’s therapeutic, it’s productive, and it’s filling (without being fattening.) For me it is “flow.”
Carrie Fisher was onto something— but why wait for a broken heart like I did? Get curious about you. Reclaim and reassemble the dismembered parts of you. Welcome your spirited inner child back home. Create. Play. Flow. Express. Heal.
Make art.
Find your Self.
Get to know your Self.
Embrace your Self.
The whole you, the full you.
Fill ‘er up!
(“More, more, more…”)
*Corny 70’s song reference