Art Therapy

 "Every good idea and all creative work are the offspring of the imagination, and have their source in what one is pleased to call infantile fantasy. Not the artist alone, but every creative individual whatsoever owes all that is greatest in his life to fantasy. The dynamic principle of fantasy is play, a characteristic also of the child, and as such it appears inconsistent with the principle of serious work. But without this playing with fantasy no creative work has ever yet come to birth. The debt we owe to the play of imagination is incalculable." - Jung, 1921

Last week, we explored the idea of art as therapy. In particular, we placed a great deal of emphasis on whether art as therapy should be made readily available to the masses or whether it should fall under some realm of control, IE, under the guidance of a therapist or other mental health professional.

I was in the grouping that agreed that it should be made available to anyone who was interested or who might benefit from it. - With the other group seemingly decided that, at times, the unconscious may hold thought processes that would be better (safer, healthier) approached with someone to help guide you.

It isn't that I feel as though that isn't possible. Goodness knows there are thoughts and feelings within me that might be better dealt with with a professional there beside me. - But life is messy and we are apt to find ourselves looking head on at some of our more uncomfortable feelings unplanned, with no one there (or even waiting in the wings) to help us out. - I think, like the idea of medicating "madness," that it ought to be a personal choice. Additionally, I think some of us are not willing to show our whole selves, our deepest selves, even to a therapist and would feel better and more at ease exploring our feelings (even our trauma) on our own. - This is not to disregard the idea that for some, guidance should be sought. It's to say that... knowing yourself is important and having access to valuable skills is a must, in my book.

As our interactive part of class, we made three different kinds of art. - Scribble art, one using the wheel of feelings, and one showing our "safe place" as it exists or as we imagine it. A great deal of my thoughts lately have been on my husband, his emotional well being, as well as our family in general as things have been a little messy/chaotic. An even larger chunk of my thoughts have been on the situation in Israel, on what is happening within the Jewish community. These ideas emerged very clearly as I sat with my deeper thoughts, my feelings, and the art supplies.

This was my scribble art. - We were asked to make scribbles and to see what pictures or symbols emerged for us. I saw a boy in a ball cap watching airplanes and it resonated for me as being my husband's inner child. - A concept to which I have paid increasing attention in the more recent months and years. Who we are as adults, our attachment, how we respond within our lives and our relationships is greatly impacted by who we were and what we experienced as children. When we have difficulties, I find it helps me to image talking with his inner child or, at the very least, it can be very helpful for me to remember the kind of life that he experienced as a child. It helps me to translate his responses and his reactions when our life experiences have been so vastly different.

An emotion that has really resonated for me as an adult has been insecurity and this is how I chose to draw it because most of those feelings come from a place of abandonment. Not only was I raised by my grandparents when my mother left me there as a newborn but I've also noticed a trend in my relationships, friendships or otherwise, where I believe that I am somehow not good enough and that they will leave. I struggle with being "proven right" when they do and have come to realize that that kind of thinking isn't healthy or helpful. Sometimes relationships end. Sometimes they aren't good for the people involved in them. It isn't that anyone (me) is unlovable or unwanted: it just wasn't right. That said, I find myself (particularly my inner child) in this space of insecurity... in fear that someone will leave because I wasn't good enough.

I called this one "inadequate," tying into the initial piece of work as well. I often feel as though I am not good enough, regardless of how hard I have tried. - And sometimes, I want to be good enough even when I didn't try as hard as I might have done. Does this tie into the abandonment issues? I think so because sometimes I feel like "if I had been good enough, they would have stayed." Or I think "if I am not good enough, they will leave." But assuming this ties back into early childhood when I was first confronted with being raised by someone other than a mother and father, it does seem a little ridiculous. What can an infant or a young child have done to be left? To be inadequate? And really, in my more rational mind, what could I have done as an adult that made me somehow inadequate in a friendship or relationship? - It's easy to say that when I'm being rational. It's much harder when I'm "in my feelings" about these things.

This one is labeled as hopeful. I wanted to include one of my more positive feelings and I do often feel hopeful as I learn to reframe what has happened in my life and approach myself with more graciousness. Rational me knows that I am lovable and worthy of love. Rational me knows that people didn't leave because I wasn't good enough. Rational me dares to hope that as I shift into a more positive state of self-awareness, I will find the stability, the adequacy, the love, that Little Me felt was out of reach. We are forever journeying and it is vital to me to track this shift from hopelessness to hopefulness.

And this is where we see not only my Safe Place emerge but also those ties to Judaism and my place in that world. The other art easily chose to focus itself on what is happening within my body and within my home. When asked to imagine my safe place, I immediately thought... at shul. Deep in my Judaism. Protected by my tribe. But I didn't really... see it so much as I felt it. It was when I began drawing that it took on a life of its own.

I wanted it to be in a garden but the trees ended up being palm trees... Israel. At dusk: Shabbos? And I drew people because being a Jew isn't a solitairy action: we are a Tribe. We are mishpacha. Family. My safety isn't just Israel. It isn't just a synagogue. It is within my community: a place where we are taught to view one another literally as family... That we are taught that we have a responsibility to one another. To feed one another. Clothe one another. Shelter one another. And yes, love one another. 

But it's more than that. I drew this knowing that the Bibas children... Ariel who was just four... And Kfir who was just 9 months old... Had been strangled by Hamas. Someone had felt such hate for us that they put their hands on our children and choked the life out of them. And sent them back with an unknown female body: not their mother. It would be another day before Shiri came home to be buried in one box, in one grave, with her babies. One more day before Yarden would have to face the rest of forever without his family. His in-laws killed. His dog killed. His home burned. 

So I chose to draw two ginger haired babies up front. An Israel, a shul, and community in which we are whole. In which we are not hated. In which we are not killed. In which we are all safe. Because until we are all safe, I am not safe.

Sorry. That got really dark. But that... is what I drew. I suppose it's probably fine since art is supposed to speak to us, to speak about us. I don't feel safe. I feel insecure, inadequate, and often... hated.

Maybe that was what was meant in our discussion about dangerous. Are the thoughts dangerous? Or is it good, does it feel good, to confront them and to make sense of them? Do I feel as though exploring these feelings would have been better or safer under the guidance of a therapist? Or am I in that bracket in which the anonymity of the exercise has allowed me to communicate my feelings in a way that would have been hindered by another human being? Looking at them head on, do I feel as though I should approach them again with a therapist or do I feel as though that would be too uncomfortable? 

I don't think I learned anything about myself that I wasn't already aware of. But I do think that creating art showed me just how deep those feelings might actually run. And when I took into consideration what to share, I became aware that there are feelings that run so deeply that I would not feel comfortable using them for a class assignment... or even talking about them with a therapist just yet.

But I digress.