As a former patient, I know the healing power of art. Creativity was my roadmap where there was none, my anchor when times felt uncertain, my lifeline back to myself, and an empowering tool to feel as though I were co-creating my circumstances along with the universe. Painting allowed me to express things that were too painful, complicated and overwhelming for words. Good feelings overwhelmed the bad because I could control the euphoric, fantastic world portrayed on my canvases with what my subconscious chose to create. Now, I’ve taken the lessons I’ve learned from my canvases and have applied them to every day life.
Blog Images courtesy of Mojalvo.
My name is Amy Oestreicher, and according to doctors, I am a “surgical disaster.” However, at 28, I feel truly blessed. I may not have a stomach, but I sure am hungry for life. It started in 2005 – a week before my senior prom. It was our second night of Passover, and my stomach started hurting. My dad said it might be gas, but he took me to the ER for an x-ray, just in case. On the way there, my cheeks actually puffed up, soon after, I collapsed, and I woke up from my coma months later. Apparently, there was a blood clot on the mesenteric artery that caused a thrombosis, and when they cut into me, my stomach actually burst to the top of the OR. Both of my lungs collapsed, I went into sepsis shock, and I needed 122 units of blood to keep me alive. At 18, I was read my last rites.
When I finally awoke from my coma months later, the doctors finally told me what was going on. I had no stomach anymore, I couldn’t eat or drink, and it was not known when or if I would ever be able to again. What do you say to that? I was shocked – I had been too sleepy to be hungry, but now that I knew what the real circumstances were, I was devastated. I was confused, like I had woken up in someone else’s life – where was I? Who was I? I remember I was once so desperate for answers that I googled “How do I find myself?”
Part of me wanted to curl up in a ball and disappear, part of me wanted to throw something. I was frustrated – I had just gotten my college acceptance letters – was I the victim of some cruel joke?
One day, I picked up a paintbrush. And my world changed. I had found a way to express things that were too complicated, painful and overwhelming to put into words. Suddenly, when the uncertainty around me seemed frighteningly unmanageable, the strokes of my paintbrush could soothe me as I created a peaceful world that my soul longed to rest in as a place of peaceful solace. My passion could ignite instead of my anger and despair. And slowly, the good feelings overwhelmed the bad because I could control the positive world portrayed on my canvases with what my subconscious chose to create. And I still believe that attitude is everything.
You don’t need to be an “artist” to make art – all you need to do is start somewhere. Art doesn’t have to be “good”, it just has to be “real.” What draws me back again and again to my paintbrush is that when I hold it in my hands, no one can judge me – all that matters is what I’m feeling inside. Through painting, I’ve discovered feelings I’ve suppressed that I had never even anticipated. Every day I come to my painting, I may be feeling something different. I could paint the most joyful expression in the world, or just a giant tear drop – but every time, I always walk away feeling better. I’ve realized what I was feeling – and I’d rather feel everything than nothing at all.
Creativity became my lifeline. What I wanted to keep my mind and heart numb to not deal with difficult circumstances, art could help me unlock those feelings and truly express myself.
Who knew that art would make my medical trauma become the most amazing adventure and lesson of my life? Art helped me process what I was feeling. But most importantly, art served to be the greatest reward, acting as a medium where I could still engage with my community, reach out to others, and make a difference in this world while utilizing my passion. Arts were my way of connecting with the world, sharing my story, and spreading my message of hope, strength, and finding beauty in whatever life brings you. My art may be self-taught, but it is personal, uniquely me, and a mosaic of what I have been through.
As a child, the arts were my passion and identity. When my traumas occurred, they became my lifeline. Now that I am out of my medical crisis and into a life of health and vitality once again, the arts are how I can reconnect with the world, make a difference, and raise awareness – awareness of the power of ones internal resources, awareness that there are many ways to heal externally and internally, and awareness of the human potential and spirit. An awareness of gratitude – that every day and moment should be celebrated – that life is a canvas, an open score, a bare stage, waiting for us to join the dance!
I found art accidentally on my way to healing physically, emotionally and spiritually and have learned that it is one of the most rewarding, forgiving, beautiful ways to find my way through the darkness and into the light. I may have found it accidentally, but because of art, I have found myself again. Although left with a few scars, I am long past my bleak days in the hospital. With, my wonderfully supportive family, my passion and a paintbrush, I was able to keep my soul alive for that uncertain time in my life. Life may always be predictable, but art can always find the beauty in the detours.
Art is an amazing way to find the “me” in me-time. Often, when we need a break from life, it comes from the fatigue of being wound up in our usual routine – tired of the habitual day-to-day monotony of life. When caught in the midst of our daily grind, sometimes all we want is a mental, spiritual, emotional break.
At those times, we just need a little self-care. We might pamper ourselves at the spa, unwind with a good book or blast a favorite song on the radio. Sometimes we just need a time-out from life.
What I’ve found is that those very times I really need a breather from the “go-go-go” of the week, I really just need a time-in. And that’s when I start to create.
There is something very intimidating about a blank canvas, an empty notebook or an open dance floor. There’s something very scary about the word “artist.” But getting a bit artsy is something that can lift anyone’s spirits at just the perfect time. When I create, I find confidence, I find humility, and I find out what I’m really feeling.
I found art accidentally on my way to healing from “more than a few” surgeries. I found myself overwhelmed by the sudden twist my life had taken and was not accustomed to suddenly being a “patient” at the whims of doctors and surgeons. I felt displaced from my “old” life and felt like each surgery had somehow chipped away at my identity.
As I was recovering and looking for some way to pass the time, I started to doodle. It was actually a simple tray of watercolor pencils that my mom had picked up from a nearby dollar store. At first, it was a mindless way to keep my fingers moving as the hours ticked by, but slowly it became a way for me to express what was really going on inside.
With my pencil to the paper, I was fixated on the physical sensations of feeling my hand move the colors and down, creating shapes, spirals and jagged lines. Soon, I saw little teardrops start to emerge from my pencil, hearts, and pictures of my home. Drawing became a way for me to express what was too overwhelming for words. When I picked up a paintbrush for the first time, my world changed.
Now I had a powerful tool in my hand – a vital connection to myself. With no reason to judge how good my “art” was, painting was just my way of visual journaling. I didn’t think of myself as an “artist”, rather, that I had uncovered an amazing means of tapping into who I really was, underneath the surgery.
To get creative, you don’t need to be an artist. I try to add some creativity in my day to make life feel inspired. When I make art, I experience what it’s like when my non-stop mind and inner critic can take a vacation – no matter what is going on in life.
Life can get so busy that it’s hard to take time, pause and take a self-inventory. Through my art, I can take a journey into my subconscious and mark exactly what I’m feeling, and what I need – and sometimes I’m surprised at what I find.
It’s exciting to let go of expectations, and allow the brush, pencil, or crayon to move through you. Even when I plan on how I’d like my “art” to look – it never quite ends up that way.
Creativity sparks differently for everyone, all you need to do is start.
Amy Oestreicher is a PTSD peer-to-peer specialist, artist, author, writer for Huffington Post, speaker for TEDx and RAINN, health advocate, survivor, award-winning actress, and playwright, sharing the lessons learned from trauma through her writing, mixed media art, performance and inspirational speaking. As the creator of the Gutless & Grateful, her one-woman autobiographical musical, she's toured theatres nationwide, and her story has appeared on NBC's TODAY, CBS, Cosmopolitan, among others. Visit her at AmyOes.com.