First Id like to thank you all for coming.  I truly appreciate everyone who is invested in my journey.  I would also like to give a Giant thank you to Phil, and the entire team at the NOA.  The NOA has been monumental to my growth and continuation as an artist.  I have made amazing connections with fellow artists at the many events that they host, and right away felt included and like I am a member of their community.  So thank you so very very much for everything you do.

 

 

So yeah I guess I’ll just begin by giving an explanation for the title of my current exhibit, “empathy for Sunrise”.  For me, it is both a metaphor, and a statement in relation to living with mental illness. Of course, we can all agree to be logically and generally thankful for each day we have on this planet.  Everyday we see our families, hug our loved ones, everyday we experience joy and laughter.  And I am so incredibly grateful for everyday that I have. But unfortunately and realistically, we also have to recognize that not everyone living on earth actually has these things.  Some people are alone, homeless, starving, stuck in abusive situations, war torn countries.  As well, some people who do have these things, and may appear to be fine from an outside perspective,  are in fact living in turmoil within themselves on a daily basis.  So this exhibit is dedicated to having empathy, for those who wake up everyday in a frightening and desperate living situation, and to those who wake up every morning and force themselves to go through the motions of life despite their internal struggles.  This is the reality of mental illness. And as a metaphor Sometimes I think of the sun itself, getting up everyday for millions of years, just witnessing violence and sadness and trauma and war, and yet still getting up again everyday, to witness it all again, with no escape, because life just keeps going, and for the sun it never stops…And I guess that brings me to speak on my own struggles, and what has lead me to the place I am now in life, creating this art, and sharing it with you. 

 

I have been dealing with suicidal ideation my entire life, and I still do today.  Ever since I can remember, and if your not sure what that is, it is basically, fantasizing about killing owns self.  I can remember dreaming and hoping and wishing to die, from my earliest memories, probably 3 or 4 years old.  And mental illness is a funny thing, because is is genetic, but can also be caused and exasperated by trauma.  And I would infer that people who struggle with their mental well being are more likely to not give their children the calm, loving and stable environment that children need to thrive and properly develop into healthy adults. So the children of mentally ill people, are often met with a double whammy of inherit mental illness, as well as a traumatic upbringing.  Of course with abstract concepts like mental illness, and by that I mean its not a broken bone that you can see and know the exact cause, its more determined by feelings, behaviours and actions, we can never be 100% clear on the exact cause.  I do however believe I was born with an unhealthy brain, and that was only exasperated by the traumatic environment in which I was brought up in.

 

I feel I have to speak a bit on my childhood, as it has had such an impact on who I am today.  I was born in Edmonton, in the mids of my family being heavily involved with a cult.  Like any cult there are very specific rules on how you are allowed to live your lives, and this one was no exception.  What we ate, how we dressed, the media we were exposed to, was all determined by the organization.  I was very sheltered from pop culture, we didn’t listen to music or watch tv much aside from approved material.  My family, I believe, Although I wasn’t privy to the exact finances, gave a large enough portion of our income to the organization that there wasn’t much left for us.  Whatever the case, we were obviously poor, living in a small three bedroom condo with 7 people.  I wore hand me down clothes, and was often heavily neglected, as my parents were very wrapped up either in the religion, or dealing with their own struggles with mental health. And when I wasn’t being neglected, I was often experiences some form of physical or mental abuse. I never felt safe as a child, I dreamed of being an adult, and having control over my own life. I grew up very fast, learned about things that children shouldn’t be aware of, and how to take care of myself. Still, I didn’t fully realize at this point just how abnormal my life was.  I was aware however aware enough to realize that I didn’t fit in with the rest of society.  I had no community, and no sense of belonging. The kids at school were very different than me, and I didn’t really connect or make friends.  I did however love to draw, and make art of any kind.  I found it to be one of the only things I could do that brought peace to my life.  As if the world stood still and none of the other things were happening as a pushed my pencil around onto paper to make objects and people from my mind come to life.  I loved it. I spent hours of my life drawing for most of elementary school, but then when I was 12 years old things very abruptly changed.

 

As far as I remember, My father has had a severe mental health crisis, lost his job and my family had run out of money and were no longer able to be active members of the organization.  I believe this is what lead to us leaving the church, although again I was a child and the full information of why we left was never shared with me.  But we left, and  almost overnight the flood gates opened.  We were suddenly allowed cable tv, music, drugs, and alcohol.  I started drinking and smoking at 12 years old, and it only progressed from there.  I had several consensual and non consensual sexual experiences and was regularly using cocain, alcohol and marajuanna by the time I was 14. At the age of 15, I was raped and lost my virginity.  This was maybe the catalyst that lead me down a path of years of drug use, heavy drinking, and sexual promiscuity.  I continued to drink heavily, be involved with gang activity, including the production and selling of drugs.  Also in this time frame, I was raped two more times.  I was working as a bartender and a bikini wrestler (which is more or less a stripper) when someone who was a very close friend of mine at the time suggested I go to hair school.  They knew I was a naturally gifted artist, and it would be a way to monetize that ability and get me away from working in bars.  I decided to go for it, because I was just floundering doing nothing with my life at this point, with no real direction, and it really did sound like a good idea.  So I did it.  I completed hair school, and working as a hairstylist easily became a big part of my life.  It fit so well for me, and honestly it still does.  I really do love doing hair.  I love working with my hands, I love creating something. Unfortunately, working as a hairstylist did not curb my drinking.  I became less interested in partying, but I was still drinking daily, about a bottle of Wine overnight and more on weekends. I didn’t; realize it at the time, as alcohol is such a fixture in Albertan culture, but I was already at this point a full blown alcoholic.  I also didn’t realize why I was drinking so much.  But again, my life took and turn, and all of this changed when I met my husband.

 

I previously got out of a very toxic, on again off again relationship that spanned from the age of 19 to 24. I had been single and living on my own for about a year.  I did really enjoy this little time in my life.  It was the first time I had ever lived alone.  And I absolutely loved being alone.  I could come home and my house would be safe and quite, no fighting, no drama, just me.  I read books, and used my sewing machine, watched tv, just relaxed. And in this time I realized I didn’t want any relationships in my life that made my life worse.  I would only allow myself to be with people who either fit into how I now wanted to live or made my life better.  In my social circles it seemed I could only meet men who smoked ands had drug problems, so I decided to try online dating.  After only being online for 3 days I connected with Derek.  I knew right away he was different.  I was in constant disbelief that he wanted anything to do with me, but he seemed to like me and he kept making plans.  We hung out for a few months and decided to commit to being in a relationship.  Probably sometime in the first year he had noticed that I has a drinking problem.  I remember him telling me that it was my own life and my own business and I can do whatever I want, but he wasn’t going to stick around if it continued.  I had really strong feelings for him, and I could see that he was a quality of person I had never met before and would probably never meet again, and I could see my future with him being something I never thought I would have and never thought I deserved.  So I made a conscious decision to cut back on drinking.  And I did, for a while.  Things were amazing and we decided to do the big three, kids, marriage, house.  What came next, knowing what I know now should not have been a surprise, but of course I didn’t know then what I know now, and it was a shock that turned my life upside down.

 

When I had my first child, I had a complete and utter mental breakdown.  There was a lot going on, and a lot leading up to it.  I struggled with a very difficult pregnancy where I felt like I had a terrible stomach flu all day everyday for months on end.  That was followed up by a long, terrifying and painful delivery.  I felt like I had no control over my body or my wellbeing, which given my history was incredibly triggering.  Also I had this perfect, beautiful baby, who was so innocent and it hit my life a ton of bricks.  All the years my parents had spent convincing me and gaslighting me into believing the way they treated me had been my own fault, my own karma that had been brought into the world with , a result of my own actions, I realized was complete bullshit.  No child is at fault for their parents abusing them.  I looked at my baby and I loved her so much, and I realized I could never do the things to her that they had done to me.  And I realized it wasn’t my fault.  I felt hurt and confused that they didn’t love me the way I loved her.  I do understand that everyone is fighting their own battle, and that they do have their own awful mental health struggles that I am sympathetic for now, but at that time it was too much to take in.  I spiralled into the worst mental health crisis I have ever had.  I threw top everything I ate, I just moved my body in the actions of what I needed to do, but I was completely and utterly destroyed.  I told the health nurses what was going on and they sent me for counselling, but when I explained everything I kept getting diagnosed with PTSD from my childhood and from my childbirth, which they said I should be able to work though as it wasn’t a chemical imbalance., but more situational.  I did a cognitive behaviours therapy program though primary care, but it wasn’t enough. I was still broken This went on for far too long, and its all kind of a blur at this point, but I did eventually go to the U of A walk in psychiatric clinic.  There they diagnosed me with CPTSD as well as post parter depression and put me on medication.  The medication took the edge off and saved my life.  I was slowly able to crawl myself back into feeling present in my existence.  I still struggled, but I felt moments of happiness, and some sense of normalcy.  We had another child, and I had just kind of got used to living with this constant underlying feeling of discomfort and depression. Because thats kind of what medication did for me.  It pushed my mental illness into “underlying” as oppose to on full blast.  But it is still there. After my son was born I slowly started drinking again, to cope with my intrusive thoughts and self hatred.  And by the time her was probably 2 years old I was a full blown alcoholic again.  I think my husband at this point was tip toeing around me to a point.  He had seen me go through so much in the past few years, I don’t think he wanted to upset me or rock the boat by saying anything, but I knew he had noticed when he started declining to drink with me.  Drinking was really starting to effect my life.  I was drinking during the day around my children, and waking up hung over everyday.  And I knew something needed to change.  I had tried to stop drinking a few times unsuccessfully.  I had the awareness that it was a problem but still hadn’t realized why I was drinking so much, or come up with a real solution.  But a random event changed my life again.

 

We were playing around outside and I thought I would ride my husbands skateboard.  Now I cant skateboard at all, and I had just given my daughter a lecture about how skateboarding is dangerous and to take it slow and wear proper safety gear, but none the less I jumped on my husbands skate board and pushed off, and promptly fell right onto my elbow, smashing the bone right off the knob.  I had to take 2 months off work and get a reconstructive surgery.  I was on heavy duty painkillers and had only use of one arm, I couldn’t really take care of my children, and I needed something to keep myself busy.  So I had this idea that I would paint.  Painting had always been something in the back of my mind that I had wanted to do, but I just never made time for.  I was always too busy filling in any spare time I had getting drunk.  But I couldn’t drink while on opioids, and it seemed like the perfect thing to do.  I painting a blue and orange and yellow landscape, and I really really enjoyed it.  With my broken arm, and covid going on, and my unresolved trauma, I really had so much running through my mind those days, but when I did this painting it all went away.  I didn’t think about any of it.  I just focused on moving the colours around the canvas in a way that felt nice.  I would push the colour on way and get abad vibe, so I would expand or subtract from the shapes until it feel good.  It was  somehow almost the same quite and comfort my mind felt from having a few drinks.  But I still hadn’t learned my lesson, and after I was all healed up from my arm, I took it upon myself to get wasted.  I had a five day hangover.  I was violently ill, and suicidally depressed.  And it really hit me that drinking was not sustainable for me.  I knew that I didn’t want my children to come day be going to a therapist talking about how their Mom was always drunk or hungover, and on top of that I just didn’t want to be drunk and hungover anymore.  But this time was different, because I had a idea.  I had rediscover making art, something that I had lost and forgotten about.  Something that I had used to cope during childhood, and something I felt I could use to cope now.  I did finally realize I was drinking in excess for a reason.  To not feel my PTSD.  No not feel anxious, depressed, worthless, scared, just, to not feel anything.  So instead of having a glass of wine overnight, or on the weekends, I started painting.  I watched some you tube videos on how to use acrylics, and I started taking lots of pictures of nature.  I think I like to paint nature and landscapes, particularly trees and rivers, because sometimes I feel like the tree.  Just standing there, while the river keeps flowing.  You can feel stuck in life, but it never stops moving for you.  You still have to get up and do the things, even if you spend 5 minutes every morning fantasizing about how your gonna kill yourself today, you get out of bed, and go.  The river keeps flowing.

 

It took me a year or so of painting lots and lots before my paintings were something I felt comfortable sharing with the world, lots of trail and error, but I learned to embrace the process of making art whether the end result ended up being something I loved or not.  The process is actually the most important part to me, because its in the action of painting that I give my mind a much needed rest.  When I paint I don’t have much direction, I usually loosely base my paintings off a reference photo but just go with feelings and vibes from there in order to lkinda et the therapeutic rest from thinking happen. I have accepted that I have a mental illness. I often feel overwhelming discomfort in every molecule of my body like I’m trying to escape from my own skin, I go down spirals of self hatred and fear. At times I feel disassociated and not present. And  I don’t think I will ever completely stop being this way.  But I do notice if I take along break from painting, it gets much much worse.  And if I make time for myself to paint 4 or five times a week, giving my brain the time to rest, almost like how we let our bodies sleep to rejuvenate, helps my immensely.  I understand that mental illness cannot be cured, it can only be managed, and painting for me is a big part of my management. So I just keep creating, and then I have all these paintings.  And I have to do something with them I guess, or my house would just pile up with more and more paintings.  I initially decided to try to sell them because they were just piling up in my hair salon, and quite a few of my clients suggested I do the Whyte ave art walk.  And I did.  And I sold a bunch of paintings.  So I guess here I am.  I wanted to give a quick shout out to my super supportive husband, the wonderful art community I have felt so welcomed into here in Edmonton, and amazing group of supportive friends who share my struggles with their own unique flavours and mental illness and neurodiversity, And I really feel at this point in my life I am Living the best life I feel capable of living, just spending time with my family, doing hair, trying to eat healthy and exercise, making my art, and getting up and doing it again, everyday, just like the sun.

 

Thanks again for sharing this window with me into my life, and what drives me as a person and as an artist.  I truly believe that art is an embodiment of the human existence, and brings an emotional fulfillment to everyone who creates and consumes it.  So I hope you can enjoy viewing what I have here at the NOA today and for the next few months, and be like a tree standing by river of my spirit that flows through each of my pieces.