Art as a Way Back to Myself

There are days when words don’t reach far enough. When thoughts feel too heavy or scattered to untangle. In those moments, I turn to art.

Not to create something impressive. Not to be understood. But simply to be with myself.

Putting paint to paper helps me listen — not to the outside world, but to what’s quietly moving inside. A feeling. A shift. A memory. Sometimes I don’t even know what’s there until it begins to take form.

Over time, this practice became less about making art and more about meeting myself. It taught me to slow down, to stay with discomfort, to notice joy, and to hold space for everything in between.

My work isn’t planned. It unfolds. Each brushstroke feels like a breath, each color like an emotion I didn’t know needed a voice.

This is how I process. How I heal. How I remember who I am — beneath the noise, beneath the roles, beneath the rush.

If you've ever felt the need to pause, to reconnect, to create without needing a reason — this space is for you too.