What Painting My Emotions Taught Me

Is it just me or have these past two months been extra crazy? It’s been one thing after another and I can’t seem to catch my breath! With so much happening, my mind is constantly racing and even with meditation, it’s been hard to stay focused on the present moment. On top of that, my emotions have been all over the place, and I’ve been finding it hard to stay grounded. It’s been pretty intense and exhausting, and instead of my normal journaling, I’ve been feeling like I need a different outlet that will help me process my emotions without having to analyze and explain them. 

“Art can permeate the very deepest part of us, where no words exist.”

— Eileen Miller

I had been wanting to start painting again, so last month I decided to try to use painting to express what I was feeling. I rummaged through my closet and gathered my painting supplies—some of which are from 2007 which paints its own little picture of how long it’s been since I’ve done something like this. I committed to putting myself and what I felt onto the page without trying to make it pretty or control what I was doing. I would express myself with no expectations and no judgment. That, in and of itself, is a challenge for me, so I decided that when expectations or judgment creeped in, I would acknowledge it, tell myself it was ok, brush it to the side and keep going. 

Day 1

When I began my first painting, I was feeling sooo anxious. I always put a lot of pressure on myself, and once I quieted my mind and started spreading the paint onto the paper, my worries and self-criticism rose to the surface. “Am I doing enough? Are my goals even possible? Why don’t I just do what I need to do?...” As we all know, that kind of negative talk only makes things worse, and I wind up going down a dead-end path where I focus on what I didn’t do rather than on what I could do, which results in me doing even less. 

I acknowledged what I was feeling and used color and brush strokes to let out the worry, panic and fear. I painted some strokes thick and dark and others watery and light. When my mind would wander into the future and try to plan my next moves, I brought my awareness back to the moment and acted on my instincts instead, even when my rational mind told me what I was doing didn’t make sense. I ended up watering down the paint and using tissues to place color. I covered a large section of the paper with purple paint, let it sit until it was almost completely dry, and then scraped as much of the paint off the paper as I could. I poured water on the paper and swirled green paint. 

I didn’t know what I was doing, but near the middle of the painting it didn’t matter. I started to feel lighter and, because I gave in to the process, everything just flowed. I had faith that whatever I was doing was what I was supposed to do, and soon my mind quieted down. I couldn’t believe how my anxiety and negativity transformed into trust and positivity so quickly. It wasn’t about the outcome. It wasn’t about the painting. It was about the process and expressing myself. 

Day 2

The next day, I couldn’t wait to paint. My experience the previous day was so positive, I expected that painting my emotions would always feel that good. But I was wrong. Once I began to paint, my anticipation turned to anxiety and restlessness. Looking back, it makes sense why this happened. I came into the painting with an expectation that Day 2 would feel like Day 1, and the anxiety and restlessness was my body’s way of bringing that to the surface. 

I felt uncomfortable but continued to paint what I was feeling. I think most of my discomfort was rooted in the fact that I didn’t like what I was feeling, and that was a huge signal to me that I had some major healing work to do, though at the time, I didn’t exactly know what that was. Because I was trying to force the same experience I had the day before, I was trying to control the outcome instead of going with the flow. And if I learned anything the previous day, it was that in order to go with the flow, and to be in the flow, I needed to surrender and let all of that go. 

When I finished, I did not like what I saw, but I also didn’t like what I felt. I was relieved that I had begun to release some of the negative emotions that I wanted to let go of, but desperately wanted to get back into the flow that I felt on Day 1.

Days 3-7

Days 3-7 felt pretty similar to Day 2. I was constantly reminding myself that the goal was not to recreate Day 1, but even still, I tried. Each day, I got better and better, but deep down I wanted to feel the peace and joy I felt on Day 1. And so, in subtle and sometimes subconscious ways, I tried to force the experience. This resulted in the surfacing of challenging emotions that I needed to deal with. Painting on these days was more exhausting than fun and I wondered if I should even continue.

Day 8

Day 8 resulted in a mini breakthrough. After days of struggling, it hit me. Comparing experiences was blocking me from seeing what was actually happening. I was doing exactly what I had originally set out to do—use painting to process and deal with challenging emotions. Every day when I thought I was failing because I wasn’t living up to Day 1 in my mind, I was actually succeeding in my intention, because I was tackling emotions that I needed to release. 

I had learned how to sit with my emotions for a prolonged period of time, even when they were uncomfortable. I had begun to recognize the emotions I try to ignore and use the paint as an outlet to process them instead of resisting them. On the days when I was open to what I was feeling, my perspective changed and the emotions passed through me. On those days, I was able to see that emotions do come in waves and that instead of getting swept away in them, I could anchor myself, watch them go by and stay centered. 

I never felt the joy I felt on Day 1 again, but I was finally learning how to move towards that feeling without attachment. In life, there’s always a “Day 1,” an expectation, a projection of what we feel like something or someone should be. But that’s not what this is all about. It’s about seeing things for what they are and accepting them as is. 

“Painting is just another way of keeping a diary.”

— Pablo Picasso

This whole experience helped me get out of my head and into my body. It reminded me that resisting emotions always feels worse than actually feeling what I’m trying to hide. It reinforced that finding acceptance lies in letting go. Letting go of who I think I should be and what I think should happen. I must meet myself where I’m at, because some days it will come easier than others, and focus on the experience instead of my expectations, regardless of what they are. There are so many moments in my life when I should be enjoying the process and not focusing on the outcome. Because if I’m not enjoying the process, then joy will be a fleeting moment that I’ll never be able to catch. 

Painting my emotions was a great tool that helped me release emotions and begin to release expectation so that I could bring more peace to my life. I’m sure I will be using it again when I feel like I need to get back in touch with accepting what I’m feeling, going with the flow and releasing expectation and judgment. And let’s be real, I’m human, so that will probably be sooner rather than later.

xo