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Description

Found some more backlog of art pieces I consider worth posting, so here goes one from the start of 2021.

Again, this is was created during art therapy, so my work time was limited and resources were not the ones I'm used to. Both may fall back to the quality of the picture.

Trigger Warning: The description deals with anxiety, child loss and traumatic experience.

Here's a reaction to practically digging up a possible reason to WHY my anxiety felt like it used to. I was mostly afraid of not being able to stand on my own feet and to provide for myself properly (as in: if I'm blocked by my fears, I wouldn't be able to e. g. feed myself and be doomed to watch myself starve etc.). I probably never got to a point where it went critical and I'm currently doing fine overall, so don't worry.

And here's a possible reason - for now, I don't know for sure if that's all to it and I only might find out in whatever afterlife or by diving deeply into my subconscious. I don't know it. Because as it happened, I was just a few months old. So, my mother got pregnant again while she was still breastfeeding me, but had a miscarriage (or rather, the fetus didn't develop properly and died in her womb). And I know from her telling that she worried about having enough energy to nourish both of us and that we both could become undersupplied. And since I was very close to her most of the time, I might have literally soaked up these emotions with my mother's milk. Furthermore, to operate the fetus out, she had to rather abruptly wean me at about 6 -7 months old, which was earlier than planned. This absolutely basal level of the problem wasn't clear to me before (how should it?) ... and it still hits me hard. But it makes a lot of sense.

That story basically was a closed case in our family business. My parents found their own ways to "go with the flow" about it. It wasn't planned, it was actually a relief, we all have a rather accepting mindset upon dealing with death, they also would have welcomed another child, but then decided against it ... it sounds complicated, but it's not a big thing in general. After working this out, though, I for my part had an urge to express ... it. Like, I kinda grieved for the younger sibling I don't have ... which I never did before. It could have made my life easier, it could have made it harder ... but at least I would have had other standards for my own capacity than just older people. And I wanted to put means to ... me still being here despite the circumstances. Being the only one who got out of this. And to value that little soul that decided not to join my family in a material form. Ever since I gave it this greater value in my life (from almost not present to thinking about it), I can feel it being around quite often. And I love it.

As weird as it might sound, the process of recognizing it was actually letting it go in a way. Letting go of what could have been and what it would have meant.

That's basically it. Feel free to ask me about stuff, but please be gentle with me. And if I choose not to answer, that's how it is.

Materials used: Watercolour on watercolour paper

Description

Found some more backlog of art pieces I consider worth posting, so here goes one from the start of 2021.

Again, this is was created during art therapy, so my work time was limited and resources were not the ones I'm used to. Both may fall back to the quality of the picture.

Trigger Warning: The description deals with anxiety, child loss and traumatic experience.

Here's a reaction to practically digging up a possible reason to WHY my anxiety felt like it used to. I was mostly afraid of not being able to stand on my own feet and to provide for myself properly (as in: if I'm blocked by my fears, I wouldn't be able to e. g. feed myself and be doomed to watch myself starve etc.). I probably never got to a point where it went critical and I'm currently doing fine overall, so don't worry.

And here's a possible reason - for now, I don't know for sure if that's all to it and I only might find out in whatever afterlife or by diving deeply into my subconscious. I don't know it. Because as it happened, I was just a few months old. So, my mother got pregnant again while she was still breastfeeding me, but had a miscarriage (or rather, the fetus didn't develop properly and died in her womb). And I know from her telling that she worried about having enough energy to nourish both of us and that we both could become undersupplied. And since I was very close to her most of the time, I might have literally soaked up these emotions with my mother's milk. Furthermore, to operate the fetus out, she had to rather abruptly wean me at about 6 -7 months old, which was earlier than planned. This absolutely basal level of the problem wasn't clear to me before (how should it?) ... and it still hits me hard. But it makes a lot of sense.

That story basically was a closed case in our family business. My parents found their own ways to "go with the flow" about it. It wasn't planned, it was actually a relief, we all have a rather accepting mindset upon dealing with death, they also would have welcomed another child, but then decided against it ... it sounds complicated, but it's not a big thing in general. After working this out, though, I for my part had an urge to express ... it. Like, I kinda grieved for the younger sibling I don't have ... which I never did before. It could have made my life easier, it could have made it harder ... but at least I would have had other standards for my own capacity than just older people. And I wanted to put means to ... me still being here despite the circumstances. Being the only one who got out of this. And to value that little soul that decided not to join my family in a material form. Ever since I gave it this greater value in my life (from almost not present to thinking about it), I can feel it being around quite often. And I love it.

As weird as it might sound, the process of recognizing it was actually letting it go in a way. Letting go of what could have been and what it would have meant.

That's basically it. Feel free to ask me about stuff, but please be gentle with me. And if I choose not to answer, that's how it is.

Materials used: Watercolour on watercolour paper