Release, Reveal and Witness
Recently, I had the pleasure of crying in front of someone. They sat with me until the tears were spent, gave some comfort, and went our separate ways.
Another time, after witnessing an injustice, righteous rage swelled and burst from my being. Someone listened and nodded as I relayed the situation. I went away, came back breathing easier, and with a plan. We both had a good laugh as they pointed out the steam coming from my ears earlier.
In a world where I’ve been taught (thankfully, unsuccessfully) to corral my feelings and “play nice” in the face negative reprisals, these ‘someones’ offered me an incredible gift. They witnessed and accepted the release of my emotions, without scolding, suppressing, dismissing, soothing or consequence. I’m lucky enough to have many people who’ve done the same throughout my life.
Letting it Out
My young nephew was having a grand time visiting with the family. When he was told it was time to leave, he lowered his head and glowered. Instead of chastising him, my sister offered: “Are you angry? That’s ok, let it out.” He punched a couch cushion as we stood nearby. My respect for my sister as a mother grew even stronger. It wasn’t long before the twinkle was back in his eye. I hope the gift she gives him blossoms - that he embraces it’s most certainly okay to release your emotion in a healthy way, and in front of people who care and support you.
For what happens when we swallow and hold on to our emotions? When we suppress, mask and avoid them? It sits like a stone in our bodies, forms hardened shells, and courses like poison in our veins. Witnessing our own emotions, the good and the uncomfortable, and releasing them in a healthy way is so essential to our wellbeing. I’ve released emotion in really unhealthy ways. I’ve also learned to cry when I’m upset, offer my emotions up in nature, be stern when something’s not right, express unfiltered delight, laugh thoroughly, admit exhaustion, and share how someone makes me feel.
Simple, right? For me, not always, and not readily, though it's gotten easier with practice.
Lay My Head Down by Sarah West (2018)
And what is a healthy release of emotion anyways? Interestingly, the act of ripping was a fabulous release technique I was taught through art therapy. So was witnessing.
When I’m not mad, roaring about ripping things or my art (yes, admittedly that happens on the rare occasion), making art (and keeping it in tact) is an important release for me. My art is built from the ground up on my emotional state, usually based on tales that speak to me, my experiences, creatures (ordinary and fantastical), and my people. It means being immersed in my emotions for as long as it takes to make something. There’s no hiding or avoiding the uncomfortable. It means I huff with billowing feminine power for an afternoon, writhe with angst for an evening, sit with disappointment for days, and savour for an hour a fleeting, gentle delight. How wonderful and terrible it is as humans we get to engage with such emotions.
She Beast by Sarah West (2017)
The result feels downright glorious. The art that comes from this process captures an emotion in time. The image can mirror back to me the complexity of a feeling or situation I wasn’t fully conscious of. It can be a reminder of something I need more or less of. It can be a subtle act of recourse in a situation I cannot change. Eventually, it becomes something I can look back on and see how far I’ve come.
Being on Display
I let feeling pour into my pieces, creating a record of my experiences and emotion. I want others to see these records, but it can be paired with hesitation… “Is it too revealing of my situation? Will it show to the world the depth of what I feel about someone or something?” With every piece I share, a choice has been made on how much I am willing to reveal of myself. My art is my inner being on display, and as one of my author pals plainly put it: We decide how much we’re willing to offer of ourselves for “public consumption.”
It’s a conversation I like having with the creative types in my life - the process of determining how much is safe or appropriate to share through our work for our own wellbeing, and others. And don’t we all engage in levels of discernment - how much to share, if at all, and to whom?
Glasgow Beasts by Sarah West (2017)
I try to be aware of revealing emotions to the right witnesses. Some can handle others’ emotions like water off a duck’s back, while others, especially empaths, can absorb it. There are also things I won’t share because it’s too raw, or too personal. Often though, it’s the rawest creations that bring about the strongest reactions. I had a good chuckle when a new friend of mine, trying to be pleasant, noted that my most angst filled piece was their favourite. I kind of really like it now too.
Alanis Morissette has “Jagged Little Pill.” I have my “Beasts.”
The Witness
Revealing your creations requires witnesses, which invokes the good, the bad, and the indifferent. The more I share my art, and in essence, me - levels of discomfort dissolves and I find replenishment when my creations are enjoyed by others. Where there is no reaction, there’s an equally satisfying “take it or leave it” attitude that rises up. More often though, I’ve come to realize folks mostly see a likeable image, rather than the complexity of my emotion or experience on display. It’s sometimes simply translated into: “It’s so you Sarah.” {Side note: Maybe I’ll have to edit this blog post when I get the first negative reaction to my art}. {Side side note: That is not an invitation}.
In the right circumstance, having our emotions witnessed by the right person, or people, is an incredible gift. Or you know, you can just throw it all out there and see how it goes.
As a musician pal once told me - a gig only goes well if you put your heart into it.
