“🅰🆁🆃 : 🅰🅱🅸🅻🅸🆃🆈 🆃🅾 🆂🅲🆁🅴🅰🅼

🆆🅸🆃🅷 🅽🅾 🆂🅾🆄🅽🅳,

🅰🅽🅳 🅵🅸🅽🅳🅸🅽🅶 🆈🅾🆄🆁 🆅🅾🅸🅲🅴

🆆🅷🅴🅽 🆃🅷🅴 🆆🅾🆁🅳🆂 🅶🅴🆃 🅻🅾🆂🆃”

–🆁🅴🆂🅰 🅵🆁🅴🅳🅴🆁🅸🅲🅺

 

I’m Resa, and I’d like to share a little about who I am and why I am the way I am.  Hell, there’s no really explaining all the quirks and oddities that make up my random, seemingly bizarre ways of seeing, thinking, and doing things, but I can at least offer a glimpse into a small portion of that—in a way that relates to what I do today.

I’ve always been the oddball, I grew up in a family full of addiction, but not knowing that this was even something back then, I just assumed everyone’s family was like my own, and didn’t know any different until I hit the age that I began to spend the night with friends and hang out with other families outside of my own.  That was the first moment I actually saw my “normal” was very very different from my friends.

I was labeled the “argumentative one” and black sheep at a young age, the justification was that I liked to argue and fight back…

I was scolded, put-down, and “corrected”for my wrong-doings, which is exactly what I was led to believe I was doing.  I thought, No one understands, why doesn’t anyone care or see what I see?!

Why wasn’t this a big deal to anyone else?  Why was I told that this is just the way things are and to stop making a big deal.  That someone would see me pointing this out or “overreacting” and then I would bring shame to the family and others might think there were problems when I was the only one clearly not okay with accepting this way that things were…

There are big chunks in my childhood I cannot recall,

Any trauma therapist would suggest perhaps that suggests trauma, to which I can’t deny, nor confirm for that matter, because well, it’s not accessible to me, regardless of why.

 

I do remember being punished and made to feel like I didn’t care or wanted bad for our family because of what I was doing because I DID CARE, and I was trying to be heard and have a voice and I felt invisible and there was no justification for what I’d done/said, because I liked to argue and my words were empty and useless as in their eyes, I was to blame and this was a good excuse to project onto something obvious, in this case a young girl with emotions changing and developing and young with no understanding or comparison to doctors and medical professionals with years of life experience and numerous degrees.  I was a kid, in school, and I struggled and seemed like I was intentionally trying to not be as good as my siblings were,… I never got the straight A’s, and let’s be real, I was no beauty queen, my sisters were the beautiful long-legged homecoming nominees and it was expected for my guy friends to talk to me about how hot my sisters were.  I was the short, thick, tomboy-like sore thumb who couldn’t measure up,

I will admit, there was a point where no matter how hard I’d tried and even when I’d done well enough to make ME proud, I got so used to hearing, “That’s good.  But you could’ve done better,” and the reality that this was true, because I never had the perfect score, and if by some miracle I somehow scored 100%, there was a bonus question I didn’t answer or missed, therefore, still time and time again, I could have done better.”

I stopped competing with them and accepted I wasn’t as good at one point in my adolescence.I tried and did what I could to achieve what would keep me from getting punished,… I avoided C’s and always had a good GPA, Always A’s and B’s, which for me at that time were SHIT grades, and they looked so when lined up time and time again with both siblings seemingly effortlessly time and time again racking up A’s… No matter how much time, energy, effort I gave, I couldn’t do what they could with little effort on their part.

 

I didn’t understand that I learned very differently back then.  I just assumed they were right, I was wrong, liked to argue, my voice was a waste of air, I didn’t try hard enough,… all of these things I grew to believe based on my experiences.

 

There was this unspoken understanding in our family, all those experiences, if they were in any way shameful or possible to appear so by anyone, hell, even to us, that this was unacceptable and unforgiveable.

 

Despite the memories of having to crawl over a passed out drunken person, trying to make sense of what was obviously not normal and being told that it was a game (or whatever reason given as a means of trying to protect our young minds by a resentful passive aggressive spouse)and to step on him, convinced it wouldn’t hurt him and it was okay—a game—or being terrified as a child when someone drunken and capable of flipping like a switch into an angry hurtful person that you only want to love, this switch might be triggered by merely being noticed, so silence and staying in the background by all means possible was a silent and never discussed but known and agreed upon action necessary for “survival” for lack of better words.

 

This all seriously screwed up my view of myself and the world and what I assumed was expected and required of me as a woman, as me, in life.  I didn’t understand why I felt like I had to prove myself and my love to others and couldn’t figure out why every relationship left me feeling broken and not good enough.

 

I never spoke up, assumed if someone told me I was wrong or argued against my ideas that I am expected to shut the fuck up and accept what they say/think/want without question or fight.

 

I was told what was good/bad for me and listened and believed this up until switching majors 3x and ending up with a degree that was desired by my parents and convinced that I had no choice at all to pursue exactly what I wanted, and be what I thought was me, because, obviously the past had proven that I don’t know jackshit apparently.

 

I could go into much more, but the point is that I didn’t know addiction was even a thing at all.  I knew things were different, but was trained to be a soldier to execute without question what was asked of me and that I didn’t have a voice, it was laughed at and made fun of, so was showing any emotional reaction,.. tears especially, made fun of and “trained” to suck it up, bottle it up, avoid, repress, and convinced that I really was nothing and had no real purpose aside from growing up and working to make money to dress this way so that someone would find me attractive and want me, and to marry and have a child and cook and you know the rest…

 

Life was pretty meaningless and I didn’t have any true hope or belief that purpose of any sort was justified for me.

 

It took past two decades of my life for me to experience life outside of those walls I existed in for the majority of my life surrounded by my family who taught me everything I knew…
“What if…”
“Maybe…”
“I wonder…”

I had experiences, made friendships, relationships, and was able to hold myself accountable to attend classes, maintain that A/B GPA,… but still no real desire or care to give it MY ALL, because what was the point, it was what they wanted, I had no choice, maybe after this they’ll finally be proud of me—maybe then I’ll finally be ENOUGH.

 

Graduating with a degree and two endorsements with zero sense of pride or sense of accomplishment, but instead more of “Finally, I finished what they wanted me to.”

 

I was given an ultimatum to either find a job and start working, or enroll in grad school before the next semester.

 

That only gave me one week, and after finding a sense of excitement in realizing through a close friend that my graduate area of study didn’t have to relate to my undergrad degree,… my parents just made it seem like that was to be assumed, but I figured I misunderstood, or maybe they didn’t know, and with great excitement I shared my decision to go into journalism.

I was told that if I wanted any help from them that I needed to pick an area that related to my degree, and that this was necessary and required since they were helping me financially, so really, I didn’t have a choice but to find something related.

 

I kid you not when I say I chose counseling initially out of spite and spite alone, due to the fact that I got the approval, but never shared that there were 2 tracks and that I just so happened to choose the track that WASN’T school-based, which in my younger mind was the ultimate way of getting back and tricking them into something other than what they assumed.  They didn’t know everything, and in that moment, that pure satisfaction I felt in for once feeling like I found a loophole and could somehow escape their control, that was more than enough for me.

 

So in my second semester of counseling (community emphasis), I was made to practice the skill, and goodness knows the book smarts and memorization shit, that’s not me… this is a huge reason I couldn’t get all perfect scores, my memory is terrible, especially recall.

I shot to the top of my class that semester, because it was then that I realized I was really good at being me, and the skills that I’d always used and that had always been who I was, that is exactly what this was. I’d been doing it my entire life, who knew!? One peer was so baffled at my success and couldn’t figure out how, and I remember him asking so confused how and what and using textbook jargon and my response and advice was always, “be yourself- don’t worry about the book.” He was NOT OKAY with this advice, after all, he was being observed, recorded, and graded all in that moment in that tiny cubicle- and who in their right mind would go in without a PLAN OF ACTION.  I’m sure he thought I was being a dick.

 

It was my truth.  100% Real Truth.

 

 

Suddenly I was praised and rewarded for my top skill which was bragged on by the professor to my classmates,… that skill was “Confrontation”  which most classmates were baffled by, because that’s not at all something I would ever be even thought to do, much less be a master of.  I was so polite and quiet and kind.

 

It wasn’t until later on I realized this skill that I’d been punished and made to believe was wrong for my entire life was exactly the same skill that was used professionally… It clicked.  I learned about addiction to an in depth degree, and all the pieces began to fall into place, I started to understand a little more, but all while still in denial of it all, because at that time I wasn’t able yet to identify and call myself on my own shit,… hell, I didn’t know I was doing it at all,… or that this was something detrimental to myself.  CLUELESS.

 

I remember my very first job, outpatient and clueless with no confidence or experience and the only therapist for the county, I tried my best, but truth be told, until I was given a fellow-counselor, it was unreasonable expectations for just one person and nearly 300 on a caseload, yet I was inexperienced and dumb and assumed I was just not good at it.  I remember someone sharing with me at that job about his title and work with A&D treatment, and he assured me that it was the counseling area of practice that was least desired and had the highest burnout rate.  He made addiction treatment seem like a terrifying and horrible field.  I didn’t even question the thought of exploring there.

It wasn’t until I was in desperation searching for a different job, not caring what degree it utilized or where it existed, and threw out so many applications, and waited, not hearing anything and feeling so hopeless.  I got a message from a previous classmate on social media telling me about a position open where he worked and asked if I was interested in interviewing.

 

Long term adolescent treatment facility for addiction.

OH MY, EVERYTHING SCREAMED UNCOMFORTABLE from just the explanation of the place… I’ll never forget asking a colleague who was about to leave and pursue another job, and me sharing that I didn’t want to go back to the delta, I was trying hard to get away from there.  It’s the last place I wanted to be… and he asked, “Yes, but is it closer to where you want to go?”

I decided to apply, got the job, and found my passion and love in my field as a counselor. Years and experience molded me into who I am and with an understanding of (personally,educationally,and professionally with a big scoop of experience) and passion for working in addiction treatment specifically.  I can’t imagine another area these days.  I am where I belong, where I’ve existed, understand from various perspectives, and have found that reason for that fight and burning passion that I once was convinced was pointless, but now understand the reasons and can FIGHT FOR THOSE I CARE FOR, and SHOW THAT THIS ISN’T OKAY AND THAT YOUR LIFE IS VALUED, YOU’RE WORTHY, AND WORTH IT.

 

I know and understand how important it is to have someone share with you their beliefs and hopes for you, and to point out your strengths and recognize your value.  I understand that DENIAL and have experienced this in multiple ways on both sides of the fence.  I understand that it cannot be seen if it’s not called out and noticed, and that my voice is powerful and it does matter.

 

I’ve taken the other healthy coping skills I clutched onto at a younger age, which were Art and Writing, and understand what you can SCREAM OUT AT THE TOP OF YOUR LUNGS for everyone to see/or read, and feel safe knowing the darkness, rage, hurt, despair, and hopelessness is hidden away and that a picture was nothing more, nor was a poem about something random in any way tied to anything other than a good imagination and good storyteller…

 

I knew what it really said.

 

This was my strength… This gave me a reason to keep going.

This provided my voice a way to be heard without me having to speak anything and thus avoiding being punished and further being shown that I was pointless/worthless.  Instead, I was seen and it was positive strength I was given as feedback,
“You’re such a good writer…”
“Wow, that picture is really creative…”

 

My first choice in college degrees and initial path taken for me was graphic design… there’s a fun fact.

I was told about into my second semester that “You’ll never make it as an artist,” and encouraged to change majors… and I felt forced and without option and heard “You’re not good enough.”

 

Funny how life works out, isn’t it?

 

All of these experiences and little situations have led up to me becoming exactly who I am with the ability to reach people through a powerful tool that has been questioned and overlooked as even something needed in schools,.. and here I am being asked about why Art, which already has this stigma of not being necessary or good enough to keep around (along with music), and you’re supposed to believe that this helps with addiction?  I hear you.

 

Had I not lived through life the way I did, experienced the hurt and developed these self-defeating irrational beliefs, and struggled through all of this through college, I’d had never chosen a career out of spite, and would’ve never known everything I’d been wrong for was exactly what was right,.. and that being uncomfortable is how we grow… and of course then, it made most logical sense to someone who can’t justify their own pain and the real truth behind the heartache in a family and so they grasp at what makes sense… a teenager arguing, no matter about what, this was justified as a normal thing, and everything out of my mouth was with only one purpose, to argue and there was no substance or purpose to anything I fought against.

Sometimes this was very true,..
But many times, this was something expected to stay hidden and unspoken. If I’m the only one who sees this as something, and the one who reacts, surely I’m the one with the problem.

 

That is totally justified rational. I get it.

 

From the get-go, as soon as I realized I could be ME in the way I did assignments and activities with my clients in ways that helped each individual in his/her own best way, that’s when I really became the professional and found that confidence and became good at what I did, because finally, I was doing it MY WAY, and that was right,… as long as I was best helping my client, it didn’t matter WHAT or HOW, because no one person is the same and no one person can take exactly the same thing and get the same benefits as the first.

 

I’VE LIVED THIS.

 

I never understood why I couldn’t “get it” as easy as my classmates or siblings…

Undergraduate elementary education courses showed me the various learning modalities and the importance of molding to fit each one in order to best help every student.

 

I am that one weirdo who needed the tactile, auditory, kinesthetic,  and visual.. and if I didn’t understand something, I’d never able to remember it or recite.  If I do truly understand, however, I’ll never forget, guaranteed.

 

I still use this in any presentation I give or class I run,… Sure, it takes a LOT more preparation and time before/after as far as set up, clean up, copies made, videos ready, etc. go but knowing that one of these messages would have a better chance of being remembered by the individual who learns best in that way.  I get TONS of feedback from lecture groups about how powerful the video was, and others think the MUSIC was the most influential, and everyone has their THING that stood out to them, and that is right, they are right—that was what was the biggest thing,…for THEM.

 

All of them are right. I’m just trying to allow them a chance to find that message in the way that they’ll notice it.

 

So I’ve always included Art into my therapy,… mostly I did so in individual sessions, and really found my confidence and had “my way” for doing this by the time I started that big scary job that wound up being the most amazing experience I’d ever had and gave me a hope that it was possible to love what you do and get paid for it.

I stuck to mostly individual assignments in Art there with my clients that would benefit from such, helping out with group projects to celebrate peer milestones along the way,… I soon became unofficially responsible for the art room, and would be the one who would redirect and educate when supplies weren’t taken care of.  After all, I knew Art, I’d been doing it my entire life, leisurely, educationally, in contests often, and now also in my professional work.

I’m always soon pointed out as the “creative one” no matter where I go, if I’m there long enough, most come to notice that I am peculiar in the way I experience and perceive anything/everything and I will point out things that no one else noticed, and challenge others to think about something that is bizarre and usually imaginative and dream-like, but other times realistic but not fathomable, nor likely acceptable by society as a whole.

 

I UNDERSTAND STIGMA.

For addiction,

For art,

For Writers, the actors, the musicians, and song writers,…

We get a bad rap, and are viewed as the ones who are druggies, poor, without real purpose, struggling, a joke…

Only those who are pointed out and told they are INCREDIBLE are the ones who become successful and known.

Most of us exist as and stay as the constant buzz in the room that no one notices because they’ve not ever really stopped to notice or cared to maybe.  We are encountered but never really paid much attention to… We are told great things and our talents are gifted in compliments by those who encounter us,… but that’s it, we aren’t really able to be RECOGNIZED or TRULY SEEN by those whose opinions, for some baffling reason, are more favorable due to their masks they wear so well to illustrate everything we are not and cannot be.  Their voices are important, because society has made them important, so they must matter most, along with their opinions.

 

The world is so bullshit turned upside down and wonky.

 

The sad part is that WE,… People like me that point this out and laugh at how silly things are that others make a huge significance about for a reason they are unable to justify aside from it’s what’s expected and socially acceptable. It’s just the way things are/should be.  The world is like this, and this is what’s attractive and acceptable—so genuinely it makes sense that here I am this person who doesn’t even try to fit into this hole that was designed and I was told I should try and fit into, and that’s WEIRD or even just believing that I’m wrong—when no “right” or “wrong” has even been mentioned, and I have no ability to tell you that “you’re wrong” in what you believe and who you want to be/are because that’s you, not me. My right isn’t yours, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that at all. That’s beautiful.

 

And that is what makes the world so beautiful is that there’s not one person you can meet that cannot teach you something you don’t know.  If we understood and viewed every interaction as an opportunity to learn from someone and take something from that interaction to better ourselves, no matter if it’s a good or bad one, that type of outlook would transform this screwed up view that the world has been taught to see as “RIGHT” without tailoring to the reality of individuality and the beauty of being different.

 

So I’m so grateful that I have this ODD way of seeing the world around me.

 

My father was an ophthalmologist and my mother a nurse that worked for him. It was an embarrassment for them when I was sent home in fourth grade with a note saying I’d failed my eye exam.  So many years I’d been assumed as this smartass who pretended to not see whatever they were pointing out… Look at that plane, “Where?” OH MY GAHHH, all in all just know that both myself and my mother cried when I got glasses.  She for feeling so guilty for how she treated me assuming I was being that bad arguing black sheep middle child, nothing more.

 

I was amazed by how I knew what was there already through my experience through 4^th grade viewing what I assumed everything saw the world to be… I remember a big thing that stood out when I got glasses is that I already knew trees had leaves, and I knew things changed in how they appear from being farther away.  I assumed that everyone saw a tree from a distance as I did, and that no one could see the individual leaves from far away- but just them all combined into one sort of blended blur.

I was fascinated by this small but so powerful view that I never realized I was wrong in seeing.  I never even thought to question this, I just knew from experience-

 

I’m sure this had a profound impact on my outlook onto the world and all the beauty that I’d missed out on.  I of course grew used to this viewpoint and forgot these simple things in time, but am so grateful that I was given the ability to recognize and remember how important these things are. How beautiful everything is, and I so often wondered how it was possible that others didn’t even NOTICE the things I admired and tossed around in my mind with so many ideas and creations and cool thoughts of “what ifs” or “I wonder…”

The ONLY reason it was noticed (whatever IT was at the time… a spiderweb glistening in the sun, a cool design in the wood that made up the door, the sound of the crickets in the distance, the texture of the wallpaper and how it looks/feels different… the angles, colors, and so many ideas and explorations within each, WOW, How amazing.

I really couldn’t make sense of how invisible these things were to others.

 

Time, experience, and education showed me that we get wrapped up inside our own heads/thoughts and worries/stressors that the rest of the world around us disappears.  We really only are on autopilot, for the most part, and if it’s not significant it’s not needed to be seen.

 

I did this for a long long time and I was so miserable.  Again, I’m grateful I was able to realize I had a choice to determine what was most important, and I realized in time, that this moment was my final answer.  I came to understand that the now was the only certain thing, and that I was missing out on living my life and experiencing it because I was trapped in my head not knowing that was something I could CHOOSE to turn off and with practice, master the ability to only access that “thinking thinking thinking” as I needed to, and otherwise live in each moment as myself with what I have to offer in that very moment.

 

FREEING.

 

So Art allows others to have a voice when they can’t find the words…

We as artists are given the opportunity to heal our wounds while forever having to expose them.

 

I’ve had so many individuals who let me know they had no intention of talking to me or about themselves, and assured that I didn’t expect anything other than for them to talk about their painting- and agreed to, followed through, and wound up finding an entire new way to explore their own emotions and what is going on inside that they often times never knew existed.

 

I’ve had so many unwilling to share his/her story, but okay with discussing their artwork and being asked about pieces that led to the willing disclosure on their part and an ability to discuss in a way that makes sense what is going on.  It’s right there visually laid out, you’re going to see it if you’re looking at it, and that makes it so much easier to talk about.

It’s often not even “real” until you put it out in front of your face to see.

 

I’ve had many break-downs by those who were initially skeptical and not too eager to do a silly seemingly simple and meaningless art project and were completely stunned by what trying to explain such contrasts or colors or symbolism means and why it’s so powerful.  It’s a lot different seeing visually something no matter how may times you’ve talked about it or written about it… visually it’s a whole different ballgame and adds so much more to what was said/written and seen through eyes, often picking up on pieces that weren’t ever significant because nobody knew, but here they are WOW, THOSE STAND OUT,.. they were often overlooked before. No one SAW them because they weren’t put out there to see. Does that make sense? For the client, the therapist, often unknowingly to both, but sometimes intentionally hidden or minimized as a means of protecting oneself or avoiding that pain/discomfort that we all try to escape as humans.

 

And the beauty of my Art groups is that I never expect anyone to be a certain way or to do things a specific way.  I use all of the MANY “I’m not good at Art. I can’t paint. I can’t draw. You’ll be lucky to see a stick figure out of me- that is my best,” as opportunities for a chance to offer each one the chance to be proven anything other than right… I challenge them.

And this becomes my first avenue into being able to work with open-mindedness and willingness, as without these things there is no ability to see and take in suggestions, techniques, skills, etc.

I always ASK THEM, sometimes providing several solutions, sometimes requesting colors, I always involve their decisions and point out how THEY chose and THEY decided..

Also, often times I can be a big lesson in patience, as no matter how hard they beg or how many justifications they give me for why they CAN’T and NEED ME TO DO IT, I will assure them that I will gladly guide them, show, and offer them practice in techniques to create their desired goal, but I refuse to do it for them.

“Resa will you please just—”

“No, but I will show you that you can.”

Most agree to learning eventually.  And in the end walk out with this beautiful creation that I then can tell them that I NEVER TOUCHED, and show them that THEY DID EVERY PART OF THIS.

I love watching the confidence and ability to be comfortable in their own skin and okay with trying and exploring techniques, which I see in due time, because initially everyone assumes there’s a right and wrong way to paint, and have an idea of what art is Good and Bad all based on personal past experiences that have led them to see that this is the truth.

 

I have had the opportunity to point out over time working and seeing someone grow as an artist that they’ve demonstrated in this art room the honesty, openmindedness, and willingness to be successful and follow through with what works for them and what doesn’t without second thought.  I compare this to recovery and that they are ccapable of possessing these traits, as I’ve seen them and they’ve experienced them via Art.

 

I of course remind them that they have no excuses anymore… those that told me I CAN’T, are no longer allowed to use these words because they’ve proven themselves to be unfit and untrue.

Also, they no longer are allowed to use these excuses for reasons they are incapable or reasons to avoid or try and get someone else to hold the responsibility and now they hold their own and accept their actions for the outcomes that present themselves,

And that there’s no such thing as “messing up” as I show that often times it’s “just not finished” and we find a way to transform what seemed like a terrible mistake into a new piece of what was missing from the whole picture but we never knew until that “accident” made us see what could be and how to use this to our advantage to better our painting (ourselves) instead of abandoning and never having a chance to see the powerful outcome of what seems like only bad upon first encounter.

 

ART IS POWERFUL.

 

It opens up so many avenues and opportunities to allow someone to look for,notice, and see what they overlooked, bringing them back to the moment and to live their life.  It opens their mind to looking at a suggestion or feedback from someone outside of themselves and be willing to admit that maybe they are okay with needing a little guidance to unlock what they are capable of and the abilities and rewards that await.

If I force someone to be/do/express themselves in a particular way, that’s going against everything I’m asking them do to, is it not?  How can I ask you to be your authentic self if I’m telling you how I want to see it.  BOGUS.  I’ve been that individual on the other side of my poor poor therapist way back in my angry years with no understanding of anything at all, and I’ve been told or asked things as being myself that were requested in ways that were subject to making me feel judgment and closed off to feeling like I can truly be myself without meeting your expectations for me to limit myself within. I was not a fun client, I can assure you that.  I can also assure you that I provided several experienced professionals, and one future-counselor in training with an opportunity for growth.

I have been given mini-me’s plenty of times too, so I know and feel SO BAD for taking out everything I wasn’t allowed to show towards my therapists because it was a way to make sense of these feelings that were unjustified. Poor poor therapists.

Point is that I allow those super closed off individuals to create a specific reason they cannot participate and refusal to “paint” for example, to which I provide them with opportunity to choose from magazines and decoupage to markers, watercolor, colored pencils, charcoal, or just simply pencil.  They find what’s most comfortable and are willing,… I wait until they’re okay and comfortable with feeling like they’re accepted in the way that they are comfortable and I then share about how we cannot grow without being uncomfortable- especially as artists…

I reflect my personal experiences and same “I can’t paint.” that I’d share and tell everyone, only to later realize that I’d never made myself truly be vulnerable and uncomfortable enough to reach beyond my comfort zone to allow myself to grow and explore possible new wonderful things.

Before then, over 2 decades I said exactly what I hear most say, “I’m not good at—” or “I can’t—” or “I’m not artistic.”

I smile and laugh and explain the reason behind my sly grin in that I was them a decade ago, and I truly thought I couldn’t paint either. India ink and/or sketching with a pen—those were my go-to’s and that’s all that I was good at.

Little did I realize I’d only explored specific paint types (watercolor) that I despised, or had only tried to do something that was requested and then judged.  I’d never actually just explored and been just me, without expectation or fear of failure, because there was no such thing.

 

Everyone is different,

Everyone can paint,

Everyone is an artist,

We are all just different,

And we each have our strength and way we work best,

It’s just a matter of finding what works for you.

Are you willing to explore with me to help you find it?

 

 

I have so many personal individual comments from individuals who shared their personal group experiences to include, photos of projects done to show, and an activity to have them engage in to they can experience a adjusted version of one of my groups in the best way I can do so with that many people and lack of ability to provide the supplies for them to actually PAINT with acrylic like we do, but still, same concept, different mediums,… paper and marker instead of canvas and paint. Different, but conveys the message still, hopefully.

 

There’s something indescribable about painting, and I’ll leave it at that…

Go experience it for yourself.

Turn on your favorite music, and dive into a blank canvas with no expectation or intention and without any concept of what art should or should not be.  Just exist and explore YOU with the paint and tell me what you find, and what you think.

 

Unless you’re truly open minded and searching for your own personal meaning through this experience, then I wouldn’t even try it out yet.

If you go in with judgment and skepticism and set yourself up to fail before you even truly allow yourself to begin, I’ll skip you the hassel of the supplies and clean up and go ahead and tell you that you’re going to find exactly what you look for…

Just like in everyday life, all encounters, and situations,….  We find what we look for.

If I’m merely looking for a way to better myself through each experience, encounter, and situation that I am capable of allowing myself to see as opportunity in such, then I will surely leave each of these experiences with something I’ve gained and a better me for the next moment/experience.

 

And if I expect and assume all will be bad because it has been—

 

Well,  at least carry an umbrella with you each time you choose to walk head first into that clouded rainy area and stand there convinced there’s no choice for anything else.
As you watch your shoes soak through and socks get wet through those puddles you’re now standing in, you’re missing out on the magnificent and beautiful area in which the storm has already passed by, and the warm sun and life that is plentiful, refreshed, and anew.  I can stand and wave at you all day but you’ll never see me because you’re not looking for anything other than a reason to continue to be upset and justify why.  When you’re ready to look for something better, just look up, I’ll be there.  Where I’ve always been…

Just when you’re ready…