At the beginning of last year, not long after debulking surgery and just as frontline chemo started, I fell into a massive depression. The best efforts of the various clinicians, my friends, my beloved Welshman, and our families were all in vain. I couldn't see any light, just a very deep, very dark vortex into which I was being inexorably pulled. It was a truly terrible experience that I wasn't sure I could, or even wanted, to survive.
My partner (The Welshman - TW) urged me to read and would send me dozens of links he thought would interest me. One of those led me to a little craft session (run online by the very lovely Faith for Ovacome). I entered my details and shortly after was sent a little craft kit. I logged on to the zoom session - just audio, I couldn't bear to see myself on camera - and for one hour did something creative. It took me 3 days to finish, but I finally came away with a little bargello drinks coaster.
That sparked ... something. For the first time in months, I felt ... something. I saw another little post online offering 'arts on prescription' designed for people who had had, or who living were with, cancer. Signing up was mercifully simple, supplies were sent out, and every Monday afternoon for 2 hours, with TW's help, I made the enormous mental and physical effort to participate.
Trying to keep a long story short; I connected with other women with cancer. I created art. I allowed art to bring colour back to my life. And slowly, I started to feel better. I became involved with local charities including Artlift, and Yes To Life, and was asked to join the Steering Committee for a pilot magazine called Flourish. The principal being that art can and should be part of an integrative and complementary approach to conventional cancer treatment. Funded by the National Lottery and supported by Macmillan we put out a call for people in Gloucestershire living the cancer experience to submit their artwork - drawings, textiles, photos, stories, paintings, etc. We. Were. Bombarded. This is the first edition: artlift.org/artlift-program...
I'm still struggling with depression. Some days are better than others, and I accept that I may need the meds for a while longer yet. But without doubt, Art has been The Thing that saved me. We are now planning for our second magazine and, like for the first, I hope to have one of my pieces included.
If you're feeling lost and dark, even if you're just feeling a bit 'meh', please consider incorporating some kind of creativity into your life. If you don't know where to start, or need inspiration, please feel free to message me.
Thanks for reading xx
Footnote:
I have become completely fascinated with the ancient Japanese practice of Sashiko - the deliberately visible mending of worn out clothes with patches of new cloth held in place with beautiful, tiny, hand stitching. Different parts of the country favoured different stitching styles. Some pieces of work clothing, particularly jackets ('boro') have been found that have been stitched over time and time again, sometimes over a period of many decades. Each new layer or repair tells of another chapter of that item's history. Also, of Kintsugi - the practice of piecing together broken ceramics with layer after layer of lacquer which is then embellished with gold so that the repair gleams as it shows itself. Both techniques honour the story of an item that once was damaged, but now is whole again and is considered, through that lens, to be all the more beautiful for it.
It doesn't take a genius to understand the synergy between this and cancer. And so I remain determined to see the beauty in myself, not in spite of my very visible repairs, but because of them. And I remain determined to carry on creating.
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