Forgotten Paintings
Selections from a 2017 notebook🖌
Trauma brain is weird- some things I remember so vividly it can feel like I’ve traveled back in time.
Other times, I completely forget conversations, interactions - and in this case, making art.
What I do remember is having a handful of acrylic paint pens and using them at some point:
I can’t tell you the exact stories behind these pieces, but these two written entries give a pretty big clue:
In and around 2017, I was processing decades of trauma for the first time.
With very little support.
Although I consistently met with therapists, I hadn’t yet connected with someone who understood trauma and could help me learn tools to navigate its effects.
As I established boundaries, I lost friends and family - i.e., social and emotional supports.
I was very much on my own as flashbacks roared into my consciousness in waves.
My nervous system was extremely overwhelmed.
With all the nightmares and flashbacks, I struggled to exist.
I struggled to understand what was real in present time.
And, as the second entry indicates, many people had narratives about me and my experiences - they were telling my story, except it wasn’t mine.
This was the first time in my adult life when I began to express my truth, and the people leaving my life weren’t able to hold space for my truth.
Until next time,
~Riv