Healing is an Art

Art is healing and healing is an art.

Ten-year-old me loved art, but vowed to never get a tattoo. Tattoos were for “edgy people” who wanted to rebel against the rules. Rebellious being the very opposite of who I was. Yet, ten-year-old me had no clue about the journey that was ahead. She had her anxieties and disappointments and tears, of course. But she never had to really heal. Fast forward to 2018. Two years before the world got sick, I was becoming all-too familiar with westernized medicine. That year consisted of visiting puzzled doctors, taking a bunch of seemingly-pointless medical tests, and having a surgery. I was in pain and couldn’t eat and no one could tell me why. I rang in 2019 with my poor health following me into the new year. A lack of answers, and my sweet mother’s pleading, led me to the decision to move back home 7 months later. I needed to try and heal, but I didn’t know how. I didn’t know how to combat the overwhelming thoughts of despair and the nagging feeling that this suffering would be my new normal. I had always been healthy. My greatest challenges had always been temporary. I didn’t know how to find peace or hope in this chaotic state that was my withering body and life.

However, amidst the overwhelming brokenness, I managed to find a small lining of silver. While 2018 and 2019 brought me a multitude of challenges, it also brought me a man who changed my life. We had been friendly acquaintances for almost five years, but we had never met in person. Social media and music had brought our paths together, and in my worst two years we grew close, often talking on the phone for hours. He’d tell me about his day, his challenges; and my being able to listen and console and comfort made it feel like new life was being injected into my spirit. I was useful again. To someone.

My health very slowly began to improve as I found new doctors and new medicines. The improvement was definitely not linear, but I could feel the hope tentatively return. I went into 2020 with all the best intentions and aspirations! My health was still mending; and my connection to my far-away guy only grew as we talked on the phone every day. So, in February, I decided to book a trip to visit him and his family (who I had also gotten to know through letters and video chats in the past two years). This was the first trip I had ever taken solo! I did it all: scheduled the flights, navigated the airports, rented and drove the car, booked the hotel. This adventure was about more than just the guy, it was my reintroduction to the world! My existence had been in a bubble and on pause for so long that I was worried I wouldn’t be able to fully engage with life anymore.

I was thrilled and relieved when the trip was amazing! I got along great with my man and his family, my health stayed decent, and my anxiety was astonishingly low. Is this what healing feels like? The week went by so fast, and I had welling tears in my eyes as I said goodbye. But little did I know, those tears were just a glimpse of what was to come, because everything was about to change.

The next few weeks after I got home were some of the most challenging I’ve ever had. My health regressed fairly rapidly, and what was almost worse was the one person I had grown so close to, the person who had become part of my every-day, began to drastically pull away. I got a brief explanation that he wasn’t ready for commitment, and then the calls and caring-communication ceased. Without warning, all my anticipation, and hope, and unrequited love came shattering down around me. I struggled to figure out which broken pieces were my body and which broken pieces were my heart. I had never really known a heartbreak like this: no explanation, no answers, no closure. But art is healing and healing is an art.

What came next was a personal renaissance. I put all of my energy into creative projects: painting, drawing, singing, writing, building snowmen and forts. Anything that helped me focus on my blessings and reminded me to breathe in the present moment. Learning about the Elder Futhark Runes (ancient Scandinanvian alphabet) was another activity that I used to occupy my mind. Something about their simple complexity really intrigued me, and after learning of my Scandinvavian heritage, I began to read more about the runes and how they’re created and used with specific intention and energy. With the last drop of hope I had left--hope in finding love and partnership, hope in having health, and hope in having a future--I poured my heart and soul into creating a bindrune tattoo for myself. I had designed tattoos for other people before, but never one for myself. Nothing ever seemed meaningful enough to put on my body permanently. But this bindrune was different.

Within its very simplistic lines was the reminder that I carry generations of strength, pride, and wisdom. While I was designing I wrote down a little bit about what this bindrune would represent to me...

“Let the fortitude of my ancestors flow into my future relationship with my ever-changing self and with others. My partner will be an extension of that energy: love, pride, and perseverance. I will always be wise to that flow and use it as a guide and shield.”

I chose my runes with great care and deliberation, because art is healing and healing is an art. Through the process of learning and then creating I was finding space in my life to forgive and let go, and I was finding the will to move forward with renewed energy and purpose. A broken body could not destroy my heart, so a broken heart would not destroy my body. I chose to do the emotional and spiritual work. Every minute of every day I asked myself “Is this conducive to helping me heal my mind, body, and soul? Is this thought/action/belief helping me grow?”

This is why healing is an art. Just as a painter puts every ounce of creativity and energy into their work, I was putting all I had into creating a newer, healthier version of myself. About a month into my renaissance I decided it was finally time to get the tattoo that I had designed. I had spent enough time studying the lines and drawing it on my finger, I knew it was right. I was ready to confront any fears about how it might come across to others, because I no longer cared to cater to those anxieties. I was ready for the permanent reminder that no obstacle in health or love would break me to the point of settling. I was learning myself on a whole new level and I felt a unique kind of resolve and steadiness down to my bones. It was time.

I got my bindrune tattoo on my wedding-ring finger. Some shops are hesitant to do finger tattoos on someone who has no other ink; but my artist didn’t question it for a second. It was like a silent understanding that it had to be on that finger. Did it sting? Yes. But pain is temporary; and when we give purpose to our pain, we diminish the power that suffering has over us. The whole process, from the design to the actual getting of the tattoo, felt like a ceremony. And I felt a new energy from then on. It was like it helped solidify the resolve and steadiness that I had been building, and it was a daily reminder of all I had been through and all that was possible.

When it finally catches their eye, people ask me about it. They ask what it means. I keep the explanation simple because there’s no way I could describe everything this design represents for me. They question my placing it on my wedding-ring finger, and ask “what about when you get married?” I chose this finger for a reason. It’s my permanent reminder to never settle. This bindrune also encourages me to surrender to the chaos in all aspects of my life; because only when we learn to let go of the people and challenges that hurt us do we find peace. I had to learn to let go of the notion that I had control over anything but my response. My tattoo brings me comfort; but more than that, I feel it helping me guard my heart and my energy. For a ring to cover it, it will have to come from an incredibly special human. That man will have to prove that he can be a compliment to the person I have built, and be a teammate through the best and worst of times. Because life is about how we respond to suffering. And in order for me to heal, I had to surrender to the chaos and accept that this existence will bring pain. I had to accept the pain, let it go, and then choose to stay open, loving, warm, and positive regardless.

And that is why healing is an art... but it was art that helped me heal.