I’m an inner-landscape artist and my work reflects my journey of self-discovery and healing. I was born into a family of narcissists. It took me a long time to recognize them as such, but doing so has made all the difference in my healing. I use creativity to process my emotions and help me integrate new, healthy ways of being. Through creative visualization, I create the life I want.
I looked back at my body of work over many years and noticed a theme: undeniable feminine symbolism in the form of flowers, moons, water. Feminine energy was unconsciously flowing through my artwork. Meanwhile, in my day-to-day life, I was a complete hard-ass. What a
We each carry a mix of masculine and feminine energies. It has nothing to do with gender. Masculine is the active force, the sun, utility and drive. Feminine energy is the moon, open, receiving, intuitive. It’s the gentle power that nurtures. Ideally, we cultivate a balance of both (the right and left hemispheres of our brain: “our temple”). The result of balance is wisdom: when masculine action marries feminine knowing.
My learned behaviors had knocked me off center. Experience had taught me that vulnerability invited abuse, so I believed that showing emotion was dangerous. I didn’t feel safe unless I was grasping control of every situation and person around me. What if they left? What if they were lying to me? My mind was a vigilant sentry!
My attempts at control had me spread way beyond my own boundaries. Constant monitoring had kept me safe for so long – it’s all I knew – but my hypervigilance was giving me chronic migraines. My life lacked spontaneity and every relationship was just a re-run of the last.
Something had to change.
The feminine energy that oozed out of me in symbolism saved me. The vulnerable side of myself had survived and was crying out to be freed. Through journaling and meditation, I excavated events that had caused me to bury my emotions so long ago. I recognized my learned coping mechanisms and I forgave my history of poor choices.
As a child, when your parents abandon you, you tend to abandon yourself. I had been taught to abandon my needs and make others the focus of my life, as if I wasn’t even a real person. As if I had no value.
For the first time, I opened to grief: the loss of my childhood, the years I spent repeating patterns of abuse, the loss of my own joy. I sank into the dark pit and let myself feel.
The only way over is through.
A longer, more in depth version of this article can be read on Greta’s about page.
Find Greta here: glatchford.com