When We Disappear

I recently worked with participants processing experiences of racism in the workplace, and here’s something I noticed we - myself included - do in such uncomfortable situations:

We make ourselves disappear.

• When we over-function to prove our worth and competence, we disappear.

• When we contort and shrink our bodies to brush off an inappropriate comment, we disappear.

• When we stand in the corner of the room at an event to scan bodies and stares we disappear.

• When we trap our anger in our breath to avoid being ‘confrontational’ or ‘difficult’, we disappear.
  

When I disappear - for the comfort of the other - they remain fully intact,
while I’m now left to tend to my body and the harm that has landed upon it yet again. 

What can grow for us when we:

• Stop apologising for the discomfort felt by the other when we bring up our own truth? 

• Walk a little slower and more fully in our bodies to reclaim space, time and energy because: we deserve to be here.

• Reflect the burden back to the other person for them to self-educate and do better - rather than us always reconfiguring ourselves?

The Role of Rebellion

Imagination plays a significant role in the therapeutic process.

To construct a different way of being means to break away from what may be a corrosive present while daring to move into an expansive vision of our future selves and lives.

It's a process that needs rebellion to be nurtured within us.

A push back against the stories we tell ourselves - sometimes the voices of others - that stifle the transformations we need and are capable of. The therapeutic relationship formed over time creates space for this imagination to breathe.

Your preferred way of being has a chance to be practiced, adjusted, supported and strengthened before you bring it into relationships outside the therapy room.

It Hurts to Be Present

‘It hurts to be present.’ - Marie Howe

Here's the thing..

The self-inquiry process is not always a pretty one.
Questioning our stories is a weighty task. It is no 'happy pill' and nor should we always burden the process, and ourselves, with that expectation.

Not everything we create and communicate will be beautiful, because not everything we experience is beautiful. If anything, I find the art therapy process to be expansive in how it acknowledges our complexities, our nuances, our gaps, our multitudes, and how it holds space for those parts of us to breathe.

With expansiveness and growth, however, comes a grinding of edges and an unsettling of our ideas of who we think we are.
It can happen in the gentle whispers of willow charcoal against the paper, it can happen in the kneading of clay, it can happen in the wide shoulder swings of splashing ink, it can happen in your breathing to endure, it can happen after you've left the room.

The therapeutic process won't dissolve your struggles and challenges. But my hope is that it helps bring language to the mess, the tough, the hurt and the falling apart.

At times, to simply utter our truth can be the start to healing.

Re-introducing Ourselves

‘The most memorable part was seeing a deeper side to my friends.’
- Group participant K.

I've been facilitating groups in varying contexts for close to 8 years now. It has always been a teacher to me to listen better, ask more, see wider, and look closely.

There is room for POSSIBILITY - hearing how others cope with the issues you might be facing.
There is room for NUANCE - addressing the complexities and contradictions in each of us.
There is room for IMAGINATION - as you rework your behaviours before taking it into the world.
There is room to LEARN from others - as there is room to contribute to their learning.
There is room to RECEIVE support - from those witnessing your journey to becoming closer to who you want to be.

In an atmosphere built towards safety, kindness and non-judgement, it also made clear to me the second-chances deep group work offers us in re-introducing ourselves to our own worlds and those in it. Strangers and loved ones alike.

The Penis-to-Coral Mechanism

Art making can reveal our plainest habits in the most unanticipated of ways.

A participant was working with clay, wringing it into a form softer than the chunk I provided, only to find it moulding into a cylindrical shape. 'It reminded me of a penis!’ she said with surprise, ‘So I tore it into smaller pieces and rebuilt it into what now looks like a coral.'

Now, I doubt this means her pattern is to contemplate cutting actual penises into smaller pieces. Hmm, perhaps I should've asked.. 🙄

BUT after sharing her process and a few laughs with the group, I asked if it meant something to her that as soon she sensed the discomfort - that came about after the object was interpreted as 'penis' - she deconstructed and reshaped the entire thing.

What triggered the discomfort? What does 'penis' represent? What if we just called it 'cylinder shape'? Is 'coral' a better option? Is it even about Penis vs Coral or is it about something else, like the social aspect of presenting a penis shaped object to a group you haven't met before?

Either way, either choice - to stay with or to transform the moment - was rich with meaning and carried importance to what she needed in that instant.

The ending artwork is hardly the only point where information lives. The WHOLE process - the interpretations we project, the choices made, the physical and emotional qualities held in each moment, the environment you’re in. THAT is where we get a snapshot of how you are in certain moments.

Everything I noticed was only a slice of my experiencing this participant. But to me, the Penis to Coral strategy- I’m gonna call it that for a while - represented something we all do: Quickly changing a moment/situation into a more bearable one before studying it fully. It applies to moments beyond the clay, in relationships, in work, in self-talk and so on.

And heck, don't we all use that strategy one way or another.