Hello, everyone! 

 I hope Spring is being kind to everyone! Minus some pretty scary storms it's actually been a lovely spring here in STL, though I fear it's almost over as the temps are gradually (and some days not so gradually) creeping up. 

  About one month ago I was scrolling instagram and I came across a call for research participants that I thought sounded interesting. An art therapy grad student in Maryland is doing her thesis research on substance-use related deaths and was looking for people who have specifically had that type of loss. The timing was interesting as my Dad's anniversary was nearby and thus on my mind and it had been occurring to me that I needed to talk about his death more and be more open etc. I decided to join the project because I was interested, curious, and looking for community around this experience. (Not to mention I remember extremely well what it's like to be writing a thesis and need research participants). It's a photovoice project so that means that each participant submitted three photos that were to capture/communicate what your experience was with grief following a substance related death and/or something you wish other people knew about your experience of grief following a substance-related death. After everyone submitted their photos and captions we all met on zoom to discuss and categorize the photos according to theme. That was yesterday and it was really interesting. 

  I decided to write this post as a way to share my three photos with all of you as well as have some additional space to process themes I found between my three pics. 

 Here are the three pictures and captions I wrote for each one: 

I came across this tree in the park that I regularly take walks in. The extensive branch network made me think of the human nervous system and also of grief. There are so many twists and turns in grief, so many split paths and off-shoots. I was also drawn to the metaphor that this tree appears to be dead but is surrounded by life, something about that resonated with my grief journey as at times I feel like the world around me is thriving and lush and I am dead and hollow.

I took this photograph while on a walk in a park that I regularly walk in. For reasons that I can't express verbally, this photo captures parts of my grief. The vastness and emptiness soothe the parts of me that yearn for my Dad. There also appears to be something about life beyond death but I would have to give it more thought in order to articulate the notion more fully.

This photo was taken in the Caribbean Sea in November of 2023. At first glance I thought this was the sun, but given the time of day and other factors it is in fact the moon being lit by the sun. This really resonated with me because it's not often, if ever, that the sun and the moon appear interchangeable. In the first moments when I learned of my Dad's passing I felt my world turn upside down. This photo captures that moment to me because the confusion is similar: which is the sun and which is the moon? Which way is up and which is down?

   So yea, those are the three pictures I chose. It was an interesting experience to capture these photos. I struggled to be honest. Nothing was sad enough, had enough agony or despair, was dark and painful enough. A friend helped me realize that no one picture is going to hold all of my grief, and that each photo will only contain parts of it. 

  The first two (of the tree) I took specifically for the project. Of the pictures that I took I was having a hard time coming up with a third to submit so I decided to dig into my archive of photos and find a past one that resonated. I settled on this one. I just remember when I was first told that my Dad had passed I felt the world literally turn. There was something about that that this photo captured for me. 

   One thing that I noticed that I can't stop thinking about is that one of my pictures is of the sun and one is of the moon. I'm not sure what that means? If anything, I suppose. Additionally, the sun and moon often make appearances in my work for about the last 3-4 years. They aren't ever the focus or the subject, but they are nonetheless both present. I have lots of examples but here are the ones I can share: 

My therapist and I made this together in like 2020ish. 

Mountains and valleys painted with coffee, Spring 2022. 

"The Stories We Crave" Watercolor Resist, Spring 2022.

   I used to think that their collective presence in my work was to signify the passing of time. When I apply that to grief I'm not sure how I feel or if it fits? The moon photo was taken in November of last year and the sun was taken in May of this year. I haven't really noticed anything about my grief shifting in that time except that it's grown due to some other things going on in my family. I guess it feels significant to me that I ended up with a photo of each the sun and the moon but I don't know what to make of it? If anyone has any theories I am all ears. I'll have to keep thinking about all of this and processing what it means. If I come up with anything maybe I'll do a part II of this post. 

   Thanks for reading, wishing you love and light <3 

Veronica 

  

 

Hello everyone, 

   One of the things I've explored in therapy adjacently over the years and more directly lately is the idea of asking for help. It's so hard, I hate it. I feel so intensely vulnerable and experience strong waves of self-hatred and shame. It's just really tough. I have made progress, though. For example, I now think of asking for help as an opportunity for connection. And I understand that I've hurt people by not asking them for their support when I needed it and they were willing to give it. It's still hard to do, very hard, but I've really worked to change the frame around it and treat myself the way I would treat anyone else.  

   The last time I went home I had a revelation about asking for help. That's just not something my family does. In my family you vaguely state your need and then wait until someone volunteers to help you. For example, if I need a ride to the airport I would say "Next week I am going out of town." And then wait for someone to say "Oh do you need a ride to the airport?" And if they don't offer me a ride to the airport, I would turn up and say "Next week I'm going out of town and I guess I'll just part at the airport." And get more and more intense with it until someone offers. It's like we're supposed to anticipate each others needs in this way and then try to sort it out even though no one has technically asked anyone for anything. Feelings get hurt over this. If no one offers to help you feel rejected and like you aren't important. The more I thought about it, the fact that my family doesn't ask for help, the more examples I came up with and the more I saw it in our relationships and family dynamics, both past and present. I've made a serious commitment to ending this. I think it's unrealistic and unfair to expect people to anticipate my needs such that I never need to ask for anything. Additionally, it's not how I want to treat people or myself. I find it a twinge passive aggressive to be honest. It goes against pretty much  all of my values about relationships, connection, and intimacy. 

   This next part is hard to get through. Today is the anniversary of my dad's death. It's been fourteen long years since he passed away. Sometimes people ask me if it gets any easier as time goes on and I usually say no. Today I was thinking about what has changed over the years and honestly it just gets sadder and my grief grows. The further away I get from the version of myself that I was when he died the more I feel like he's out of my life. I often wonder if he'd even recognize me now. Even though I think it's a good thing that I've changed over the years there's part of me that would prefer to stay just as I was when he passed so that he'll always know me and life won't go on without him.  

I made this about 10 days ago. I was just thinking about the anticipation of today and decided to draw/paint. When my Dad passed away I promised him I would be brave. (More about that in my post on going to Peru and Bolivia in 2018). Anyway, as I was making this I was listening to a song and one of the lines was "I will be brave" and that really resonated so I included it and re-committed to that promise. I feel like one thing I need to be brave about now is asking for help. It's hard, it's risky, and it doesn't feel good. But I promised to be brave. 

   My Dad passed away at 52 due to complications with one of his major organs. An organ that someone in his situation would go through the process of applying for an organ donation. When he died he was in the process of getting listed to receive a donation. The thing is, none of us knew any of this. Not me, my brothers, nor my grandparents. He needed a new organ and the chances that one of us were potentially a match feels likely, but this possibility was never considered because we didn't know. He never let us know or asked us. Because he couldn't ask for help. I cannot express to you the agony I've experienced over the years knowing there's a chance I could have saved his life but that he kind of took that from us by not asking. Knowing that he could still be here today, with a piece of me or one of us standing in for what his body could no longer do. It kills me. It is absolutely gut-wrenching to me that he was so impacted emotionally that he couldn't ask for our help. It hurts. (Just so you know, I am leaving out some pieces of the story to protect my family's privacy. If it seems like I'm making some leaps about what he was thinking or feeling that's probably why.) 

   I made this this morning while contemplating all of this. I did the center first, I've really been enjoying blending peaches and pinks and then I did the background yellow for my Dad. Yellow was his favorite color. 

  Thank you for reading this, it means a lot to me. Hope you are happy, well, and enjoying spring. 

With love,

  Veronica  

    

   

 

 Hello, everyone! 

Welcome to my blog and thanks for being here! I thought I would do an introductory post just to explain what this blog will even be about and why I'm keeping it. If you follow me on instagram some of this won't be new to you :) 

   Basically I am looking for two things with this blog: one is to have an additional space to process my work with my therapist which includes the artwork I made in or for therapy. I'm an art therapist who sees an art therapist so there is a lot of art in production at any given point. The second thing is that I'm looking to be more connected and open with my people (that's you). Connection is intimidating to me and I'm hoping sharing in this format is a way to feel more connected without the overwhelm of doing so. 

   I'm trusting you to hold my dual identity as a provider of therapy and participant in therapy. Please know that as a therapist it is my top priority to provide excellent care and I take this very seriously. For me, providing great care starts with caring for myself which includes whole-heartedly engaging in deep, intense, and rigorous self-reflection. That's where my own personal therapy and my artwork come in. Please also know that I don't identify as an artist and am not particularly interested in doing so. When people ask me if I'm an artist I say "I make art to be okay." I just want to share my work and connect with you. 

   There's one last thing for you to know. At any point you are welcome to respond to me by leaving a comment, emailing me, or even texting and calling. Of course that is not my expectation. Please know that  I sometimes (meaning always) have vulnerability hangovers after sharing and this can delay me in getting back to people who may have reached out. I deeply appreciate you taking the time to respond or reach out, I just sometimes freak out a little after sharing and then I'm not able to get back to you until I get over that. Just know that it has nothing to do with you or your message, it's definitely just me. 

   Before diving into some artwork please also know that it's more important for you to care for yourself than it is for you to read/view anything of mine. There's some heavy stuff happening in my life and I want to share that with you but not at the expense of you. So just know you can opt out of entries if it feels intense. Take care of yourselves. 

I made this a few weeks ago to reflect the overwhelming sadness that accompanies healing from abuse. It's intense and very painful. I think she looks rather dead but my therapist pointed out that her heart, while broken, is very vibrant and alive-looking. Given what I had going on at the time it's curious to me that she is both alive and dead. 

"Still here." I made this on the other side of a very rough week. This one is example of how much pain you can be in but still find hope. Based on my mood and mental space when starting this one I never would have guessed that something this hopeful and light would be the outcome. Art therapy is amazing that way. 

This one includes a line from a Lewis Capaldi song I've been listening to on repeat. "Your love I'm lost in, even though I'm noting to you now." This one is about my struggle to feel important to my therapist between therapy sessions. I just feel so alone between sessions and like I don't even matter to her. Over the years this waxes and wanes for me. We talk about it when it comes up. I think it's just part of my attachment wound. Another line in this song is "there must be something in the water" and I think that influenced this piece as well. 

Thanks for reading. Sending you love <3 

Veronica