Those living with Post-Traumatic Stress (PTS) often face a daily struggle to coexist with the rest of the world. It is as if they live in a parallel existence to the people around them as they attempt to navigate the maelstrom of emotions and mental burdens they themselves struggle to understand.
These people feel isolated and lonely despite being surrounded by others, and feel their fight is one that isn’t understood, so they don’t talk about it. This leads to depression and rumination. All they want is to feel “normal” again. The primary issue with PTS is that doesn’t go away on its own, though its onset can occur rapidly and leave lifelong mental and emotional scars. The pressure created by all of this energy is akin to steam building in an engine. If it isn’t released, bad things can happen.
A dear friend turned me on to a book by the famous record producer, Rick Rubin (he worked with such artists as Run DMC and the Avett Brothers—talk about eclectic!), called The Creative Act: A Way of Being and I read it, no, consumed it, greedily. It resonated with me in ways other creative books did not. The book is not so much about Rubin’s journey, but how he approaches creativity. I recommend it to all, and one of the salient messages he delivers is that an artist has no control over how the art they produce is received or appreciated. They can only do what they believe is best and release it into the world. After that, who cares?
A former coworker displayed a collection of paper maché masks in his office. Some hung on walls, others on bookcases and tables. He meant for those on the wall to remain as untouched observers while the ones on the surfaces could be handled and examined. He’d made each of them as part of his PTS healing journey, beginning with his first mask created in therapy.
Each mask represented a different part of himself, some he wanted people to see and feel, and others were only for him, but there as reminders of who he was and what he’d become. This display of vulnerability has stuck with me. He is one of the bravest people I’ve met, and that isn’t exclusive to his combat experience.
Something he discovered during therapy—a task he admitted he didn’t want to do because he thought it was “silly”, his words—turned into an artistic pursuit, one which provides him comfort and freedom to express himself without judgement as the masks reflect different phases of his personality. I thought it was brilliant, and unexpected since he has a hard shell that rarely shows any cracks in the veneer.
In this vein, particularly for those wrestling with PTS, creativity is a way to off-gas the energy. Painting. Writing. Acting (I should try it). Music. Building something. Design. That internal energy, much of it negative, has to go somewhere and it’s better to do it this way than yelling regretful things and lashing out, never mind physical altercations. None of that can lead to any good and you’ll feel worse afterwards than you did in the moment.
Relief of pressure leads to healing and exercising your mind and spirit is just as healthy as a trip to the gym or a long, contemplative walk. It helps to challenge the mind and even more so if you can align it to your feelings. I started writing for this very reason.
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In the beginning, I wrote to get things out, moving in any direction, to feel the flow of words building like water exiting a spillway. Slowly at first, then under control so as to let pressure of the dam walls withholding my angst and frustration and fear. A friend told me to write for a specific audience. I couldn’t find one, or didn’t want to choose one, and so wrote for myself. Yes, that’s a selfish pursuit which persists in my current writing, but I don’t really know who my audience is, my intended market as it’s called. That seems so mercenary.
No, I write to unpack a busy and layered rucksack full of memories, guilt, shame, and anger and attempt to transform these into something useful. Maybe one day I’ll write about things I am proud of and my pursuit of happiness through spirituality, but that isn’t where I am at the moment.
Whether through my books or my weekly articles, writing helps me stay organized and balanced, even if not everyone loves what I write. As a good friend told me, “Don’t read the comments.” He was right, even if my curiosity gets the better of me. It’s my outlet and one that pursue as a craft. For me, it’s never a burden to write.
If you’re in the throes of PTS and don’t know where to turn, one of the best things you can do is stop moving for a moment, let things settle and assess your surroundings. Like someone treading water, the more energy you expend, the weaker you become and the water will eventually swallow you. Slow down and find your outlet.
Do something you’ve never done before, without guilt or feeling you must be instantly admired. Don’t worry about exposure; you are in control of what you share and if you have a specific message, it is you who controls that release. You don’t have to defend yourself or your art, either.
No, you just need to do what you feel is right for you. Express yourself through your talents, one you may not realize you possess.
Don’t worry if it isn’t ‘good enough’. It’s the act of doing that matters.
