When storms surround me,

And surround me they will,

I tell myself This too shall pass

Hold on and Hold Still. 

(Lemn Sissay)

 

I once wrote: There is a completeness about the word “recovery” which does not fit me. I think that for at least the first three decades of my life, I felt that my greatest failure was my inability to get well: something that I’m sure will resonate with other complex trauma survivors. I was in my 30s before I even received an accurate diagnosis. ​

 

Fast-forward to the present day and, whilst still unwell, life could otherwise not look more different. I have a  wonderfully loving and supportive husband, and two beautiful, extraordinary children. More than I ever dreamed possible. But beginning to paint has opened up yet another world that is slowly evolving. In a life that is enormously challenging, I have found myself processing my memories and emotions through art, and whilst I predominantly paint wild places, I’ve realised that they are in essence self-portraits.

 

Art is a wound turned into light 

(Georges Braque)

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I have written before about how drawing my father from an old photograph helped me to grieve. It was the closest I’ve come to knowing him - I felt every contour of his face. And I think that portraits/faces hold a real significance for me: Having experienced an abusive childhood, you learn to read people in order to survive. It almost seems inevitable that I would therefore try using portraiture as a way to further process memories and emotions that I continue to find painful. Hence this series.

 

Trauma is everywhere: It is loud and clear in the media every day. But what of the trauma that we don’t see? Even in my own small world, I encounter so many people dealing silently with abuse, cancer survival, loss, displacement, bullying. And something that having neurodiverse children has taught me, is that just because an event or experience might not be traumatic for one person, it does not follow that it couldn’t be devastating for another.

 

When I drew these portraits, I wasn’t consciously attempting to make the subjects appear “traumatised” - I hoped that the emotion would intrinsically work its way into each portrayal. Trauma and grief become part of who you are and there is so much pain that has not been spoken about, acknowledged or treated: Hidden trauma. I am slowly, with help and support from others, putting together ideas for a project to highlight this. A way to provide recognition of those who spend their lives carrying their pain in silence, and also the role that creativity can play, both to safely process emotions and to provide a voice. ​

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We were all at once terribly alone; and alone we must see it through.

(Erich Maria Remarque) 

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