At the Introduction to Acrylic Painting workshop last week, a number of the participants expressed how much better they felt after working on their paintings for a couple hours. With an air of wonder, they said they felt so much calmer and happier and I assured them that this is exactly why I am such a strong advocate for using painting as a mental health tool.
Ever since I began painting more seriously about a decade ago, I began to notice those rough days when I’d find myself thinking, “I really need to go home and paint tonight.” I knew that there was something about painting that settled me emotionally, however, it wasn’t until my seizure incident in the summer of 2021 that I experienced exactly how powerful a tool for recovery painting could be for me.
I awoke at around 4am on that hot summer night and found myself strangely disoriented. I had a vague notion that I needed to use the washroom, but I couldn’t seem to get my body coordinated enough to get out of bed. My feeble thrashing about woke Stefan who asked me what was wrong.
This is when things got even weirder because I discovered I couldn’t speak, although I was oddly not as alarmed by this as I should’ve been. Stefan would ask me a question and I would lay there, smiling up at him, thinking “I really should say something,” then that thought would drift like vapour out of my brain. I could even see he was getting more and more concerned by my lack of response and I wanted to reassure him that I was fine, but this thought too would appear and then flitter off again.
I’d never experienced anything like this before, so it never really occurred to me to be scared about what was happening. My husband was increasingly alarmed though and, when he realized that my right arm was completely limp, he immediately called 911. I started to come out of it when the paramedics arrived shortly after. My mind was foggy and I slurred my words for hours, but I was at least myself again.
In the months of testing that followed we were never able to determine what really happened or what caused it. Possibly a mini-stroke… possibly a seizure… all we knew after getting back from the hospital was that I was incredibly tired. I’d also scared the heck out of everyone—including myself once I began to appreciate the magnitude of what had happened.
Ordinarily, when I’m experiencing chronic pain or some health-related distress because of my disability, I’ll distract myself by scrolling through social media on my phone or puttering about on the computer. What I quickly discovered with this recovery, however, was that anything that involved screens or language seemed to tax my fried brain. A few minutes of trying to read something on my phone or write a quick text felt utterly exhausting. Without anything else I could do, I spent those first days just lying in bed either sleeping or watching my anxious brain swirl about as I speculated about what had happened that night and what might happen down the line.
Knowing that I desperately needed to distract myself from my anxiety, I hit on the idea of getting a paint-by-number kit. I hadn’t done one since I was a kid, but I knew that my local art supply store, Sunnyside Art Supplies, had a wide selection of adult-oriented ones featuring the works of famous artists as well as florals, animals, and landscapes.
I had this hunch that where my brain couldn’t seem to handle language that it might still be okay with simple shapes and colours. My theory was that with a paint-by-number I could put my entire focus on the act of painting and not worry about the aesthetics or skills that I would need if I were creating one of my own original paintings.
My hunch was correct and I began working on my paint-by-number for three or four hours a day. I noticed that I was able to pull my mind away from my anxiety about this health scare and bring it fully into the present moment.
My focus narrowed to that tiny blob of paint on the tip of my paintbrush. Could I keep the paint within the lines? What colour did I need next? And where was that mysterious spot that used colour 11?!
Since I was spending so much time working on it, I completed my paint-by-number in about a week and was feeling much better by then. My energy level was back up and, to my relief, I was finally able to utilize my phone and the computer again without it exhausting me.
Was it the paint-by-number that facilitated my recovery? We’ll never truly know, but my theory is that by giving the strained part of my brain a chance to rest and using the act of painting to calm my anxiety, I was able to create a beneficial healing environment that aided in my overall recovery.
And, even though I’m back to working on my original paintings today, I’ll still pull out whatever paint-by-number I’m currently working on whenever I need to unwind.
Have you noticed a shift in your emotions when you’re painting? We’d love to hear about your experiences in the comments.