Therapy or productised art?
A question, a revolution, a revelation
I hate my brain on most days. The gift of thinking can be such an efficient form of self abuse.
I used to be quite pleased with myself, being able to construct intricate scenarios in my head with situations and problems. I thought I was intelligent, and better. Felt great for a long while! I never noticed while the tables turned sneakily, and now I feel like a spider caught in my own intricate web. Doctor Octopus stuck with the killer arms.
I went to therapists, healers, and preachers. To try to find a way to silence the storm in my mind. I’d just keep rambling in therapy, never really saying anything real. The words needed to be said can be so few, but your body keeps them trapped in shame and guilt and you can keep dancing around them forever.
I later found that rock legend Pete Townshend too went through this. He even made an album about it.
Could this then be the answer? One that has been in front of me all the time? I just have to play music, make my guitar scream instead of me, dance away the fear and anger in my nerves? That’s all there is on offer for me in the name of healing, my path out of the mental maze of anxiety?
Because this is the only thing that honestly resonates. I mean that’s all anyone wants right? For them to see their “real me”, and be wanted for that? For someone to truly care about their story, and understand it exactly how they wanna say it?
I’ve felt that great works of art simply purge you of all that you do not want but have been given unwillingly. They cut swiftly through memory, scars, masks and age and make you new again. Or at least for the length of a song, a movie, a book.
The promises made by those claiming to hold the key to mental and spiritual wellness seemed rather silly to my logical brain when I went to them, but in my vulnerability I chose to trust them. Their claims could not possibly have made up for the missing apologies, damage and the loss of years, experiences, relationships, potential, career and dignity.
I've found that singing, playing guitar, dancing—all sorts of artistic expressions to use your voice and body, and now writing—these move and revive my spirit and nerves in a way nothing ever really has! Everything else prescribed felt to me to be a subset of the experiences I’ve had with these.
To draw a comparison—it’s kinda like popping Vitamin D pills instead of soaking in the sun. Or listening to rain sounds on your computer instead of standing in the rain and feeling the rain drops hit your face.
It’s easier for me to be in the zone where you lose all fear, all sense of time, space and self when playing guitar in the corner of my bedroom, than it is to sit cross legged in a yoga hall by the river. Listening to metal and playing guitar along with songs makes me feel more connected and coaxes stuck emotions out of me better than meditation retreats. Dancing expands my nerves better than antidepressants.
And, now I'm curious if this is all there is on offer for healing, or at least for me1.
Of late I’ve come to realize how important storytelling can be for healing trauma. The impressions of self get distorted by trauma, and long after the events have passed all you can bring to anybody willing to hear is probably just a version of that story. The trouble with that is if you have to be really good at exact storytelling, and know what words to say. Otherwise you might improvise your version in a way that might not serve you at all, rather keep you confused and trapped. Or you might exaggerate and embellish your problems, or not even remember what happened and all you have to share is a confused version of your story and why you think how it all happened. Or you might just have lost your voice, like I did for a while. Your self image is then simply then a collection of those stories you’ve been telling yourself or others over and over, just deepening the groove.
And doesn’t sharing your trauma directly just amplify it? How can you possibly ever feel better about any profound experience that warped your mind, body and soul? Does it disempower you even more to talk about it, as you keep reveling and wallowing in self pity? Maybe there’s no point in having repeated conversations about it, that’s where other forms of creative expression come in that make you feel more empowered. Or perhaps it’s about the way you “own your narrative” as they say—but isn’t that just brainwashing? Does it truly heal or is it just a temporary band-aid that masks the real wounds, to make you a clone of your original self, pretending to be holier than before, but still wounded and unrepaired, just living a half-life?
So then—is all there is available to healing is just to be able to purge the toxicity in your body, mind and soul you just have to be able to tell your story correctly, identify your experiences and emotions and let them through? Then, does it work the same (or better) if you weave them into a song, a fictional story, or a poem? Especially if the real words don’t come out directly if you’ve lost your voice. Maybe you do it through playing and listening to music, making your guitar sing and squeal, watching great movies, fiction, singing, expressing and strengthening your body, imagery or whatever else that speaks to you and lets you say what you need to, but can’t just by yourself.
And therapy (in my experience) takes a chunk of those experiences that’ve been documented so intricately in these great works of music, movies and books and tries to bottle it. You’re supposed to be able to share all of the full spectrum of all your human experiences and ordeals while the clock races away to the 45 min session limit. You have so much to say, and you want to say so much. To put you back in time at where it all started going wrong and try and repair yourself from all those years! And you really hope the person in front of you will truly care about and remember everything you have to say. Boy, what a mind job for the both of us! And you’re shut off and supposed to finish quickly and leave politely when those minutes are up. You leave, hoping next week will be better, as you get asked carelessly “same time next week?”.
Does anybody really know the fucking answer? Or can you only seek it for yourself in art and ancient wisdom?
Humble Disclaimer: All views presented in this essay are angry ramblings as a direct result of my experience with therapists I’ve met so far. This is meant to raise questions, not offend. I’m still very open to therapy, if the right person comes along!
"And doesn’t sharing your trauma directly just amplify it? How can you possibly ever feel better about any profound experience that warped your mind, body and soul? "
I used to feel this way too--why would I spread the bad feelings by retelling them?
With time, I now have more courage to face the "bad" feelings and see their universality to the human experience.
Re: therapists, I also get what you mean...and I wonder if the issue is that it's a "both" and not an "either-or"? I do think that art therapy is underrated and under-messaged though, so thank you for writing about thoughts!