Hey love: Art as Therapy

Hey love,
I didn’t begin my art journey with the intention of becoming an artist. I began it as therapy — something to keep my mind busy, something to quiet the noise. A way to survive moments I didn’t yet know how to name.
What started as a small outlet slowly became an obsession. Not the unhealthy kind, but the kind that pulls you inward and asks you to stay awhile.
I began painting worlds, faces, and animals in a very abstract way. Always random. Faces within faces. Scenes hidden inside scenes. It felt like world-jumping — moving through inner landscapes I didn’t yet have words for.
At the time, I didn’t realize I was externalizing my inner world. I was just following instinct. Letting my hands move faster than my thoughts. Trusting that whatever needed to come out would.
There was relief in that freedom. In creating without rules. In allowing chaos and beauty to coexist on the same surface. Art gave my mind somewhere to go when it needed rest, and somewhere to stretch when it needed expression.
Looking back now, this was the beginning — not just of my art, but of my relationship with myself.
This was me learning how to listen.