Painting my Way to a Happy Place • by Kelly Snelling

Way, way back, up against the very back wall of my mind, behind the piles of laundry, kids’ snacks, unreturned library books, and marriage vows, sits the part of me from childhood that believed I am invincible. It has always been there. “Live a life of adventure.” “Rush forward into the unknown.” “Jump first.” These were the notes written on the index cards for my life preparation from birth.

What I didn’t realize was that, for each of us, there may come a day when the bottom drops out of the world. Invincibility becomes a word in the dictionary instead of a magical cape of imagined protection. This life-altering event could happen in a myriad of terrible forms, none of which are happy to think about. But life, the good parts and the tragic parts, happens. And what you do with it after that defines who you are and what you are made of.

The Event that Altered my Life
For me, it was cancer. I found a lump in my breast after twacking my boob with the mop handle while cleaning the kitchen floor one Christmas Eve morning (I do not recommend your trying this at home). My doctor called me at three o’clock the following Friday afternoon to tell me that it was cancer. I was sitting in my truck in the parking lot of a CVS drugstore with my four-year-old and eight-year-old sons. The mile I drove to my house after that phone conversation was one of the most gut-wrenching trips I’ve ever known. I refused to react in front of my children. I had to keep it all glued together. I could not let myself be frightened. Somehow, I managed it during that long mile and for the next year.

During the months of removing cancer from my body, I had a lot of people, prayer, and processes that helped me continue to keep it all from falling apart. Painting was surely a saving grace for me. After my mastectomy, the doctor told me I couldn’t so much as turn a doorknob with my right hand. I had a tube coming from the incision that collected fluid into a Jackson Pratt bulb. If I used my hand, my body wouldn’t heal properly or on schedule. The doctor would know this because there would be more fluid in the bulb. Someone smart came up with this system of checks and balances. With two little boys, I needed my right hand. And, sadly, it also meant I couldn’t paint.

The Paint that Freed Me from Worry
But, I knew if I didn’t paint, I would come close to letting my mind run down the dark and scary road that ended with me dead a dozen different and terrible ways. I absolutely positively could not let my mind take that turn. I desperately needed to paint. It was a balm to me. It kept me focused on something outside of myself that brought joy. It allowed me to pour out all that was going on underneath the surface of my bandages and scars. I really needed to paint.

So, I painted with my left hand. No one said that I could not paint with my left hand. And, as I am not left-handed, it took a completely different sort of concentration to get the paint onto the canvas. Painting with my left hand freed me from worry. It distracted me. It allowed me to take the images I had in my head and turn them loose. It helped me to focus on the current moment, which was all I could control in my life at that time. It got me through without having to go down that scary road in my head.

Slowly, my invincibility is waking up again. There is nothing like the thought of not having life as you know it to make you live it anew with vibrant gusto.

I hope that is something you never have to do. I pray the bottom never, ever drops out for you. But, just in case, be ready to paint, knit, sculpt, or dance your way to a happy place, even if only for a brief reprieve. Finding your passion and reveling in it, especially during dark days, can renew your spirit and remind yourself of the possibilities of living a life as an invincible being.

To learn more about Kelly Snelling, visit her Web site at soulhumming.typepad.com.

Comments

[linda]

Beautiful post...I agree that no matter what happens, what cards you are dealt in life - what matters is what you do with your hand (no pun intended). It is in our power to lead our lives the way we really want to and having your one passion or go-to liberating exercise, whether painting or knitting or anything really...that really helps us all get through the hard times. Again Art really does Save!

[Air Jordans]

It is my pleasure to read your article! Thank you for sharing! good luck!

[theresa mARTin]

Kelly, love ya!

[Leigh Anne Pearman]

Kelly, I did not know you had gone through all that. My mother is also a breast cancer survivor. You both handled it with a positive attitude, which I know makes all the difference. That is a great example for your family. Your art is even more inspiring to me now!! <3 Leigh Anne Pearman

[bethany]

i love you sister. this was a very big trial for all of us and for you most of all. God Bless you and keep you safe because you've been a part of my life with the first breath you drew and it wouldn't be the same without growing old with you. we've shared the good and the bad - to have you, well, i'm just glad. and no where near the commentator you are. but you love me anyway. today at least. tomorrow may be another story - no i haven't done anything. lol. beautiful story and i do remember the heart wrenching momemt when mama told me yes, you had cancer and i remember everything about where i was the moment i talked to you and trying to send my strength to you across this great continent. coming to try to help when you had your surgery on your birthday. tough stock grandy would say wonderful woman i say. kudos sis.

[Ellen]

Kelly, I am so sorry to hear what you endured. The creative side in you, found another way. You handed off your healing to science, art and finding your soul. You are a wonderful example of Art Saves; I am so glad you shared your story and by doing so will inspire others!

[Kim Tedrow]

You affirm what I've suspected all along - that making art can make the most difficult circumstances bearable, joyous even. Nice work - the artwork and the post!

[Colette]

Kelly, big, huge, squishy hugs to you. Your courage and beauty impressed me so much when we first "met", and it still does.

xoxo Colette

[Mom]

Beautifully written sweet girl. As strong and invincible as you've always been, I know you've come thru to the other side of that experience stronger still. Not sure I can say the same about your Mom, my knees still turn to jelly every time I think about that time. So very proud of you sweetie.

[Renee Troy]

I have goose bumps all over from reading this post. Your outstanding courage is so inspiring...I am in awe!

[Debi]

Reading this, I was stopped in my tracks by the vision of you sitting in your truck getting that phone call. Like Renee, goose bumps. Thank you for sharing this.

[Jennifer LeBlanc]

Thank you so much for sharing your story. How terrifying! As a writer, I sometimes worry what will happen if I lose my ability to use my hands, especially my right hand. Good to read your story.

[Jodi Ohl]

Your bravery and courage are inspiring to me.It must have been such a journey going through such a frightening experience with your illness. How wonderful though that you found strength and comfort in art. Art Saves.

[Kim Mailhot]

I love this post, Kelly. The openness, the honesty and the truth of it. Art does save lives and makes it rich and worth living. Thank you for sharing yourself so beautifully.

[kt]

lovely post.
kt

[Susan Tuttle]

Thank you for sharing your experiences and your heart:) -- very inspirational:)

[kecia]

thanks for sharing so much with us kelly - you are such a sweetheart and i'm glad you started painting with your left hand- it tells us alot about who you are; your bravery, your endurance and your creativity.

xoxo,
kecia