Penciled Artwork from My Sketchbook

This was my very first drawing. I was drowning in the pain of emotional trauma and someone suggested drawing how I felt. I couldn’t find words for what I was going through so I tried it.

I hadn’t drawn anything since I was very young. I stopped because I was told my drawings didn’t make sense.

This drawing represents not only the pain I felt at that moment in my recovery from trauma, but also a huge step toward taking back myself from everyone I’d given myself away to throughout my life.

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This drawing was meant to capture the dichotomy of holding up a beautiful facade to the world while internally struggling with the temptation to drop the facade and fall into the shadows.

I struggled with suicidal compulsions brought on by the trauma I had withstood. Perhaps not doing the one thing I wanted to do is one of the greatest achievements of my life.

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I’ve heard from many people that the girl in this drawing is holding the gun wrong. For the record, I know. And I knew when I drew this. That’s part of the story it tells.

I drew this when the tiny ember of my internal fire of self-respect and ownership was beginning to be rekindled. I was starting to drag myself out of the wreckage of what had become of me and it was an extremely raw time for me.

This drawing represents this: I am at my lowest point. I have nothing left of the reality I thought I lived in, the criticism I clung to from others, the ways I thought I had to exist. I have none of this. Because none of it was true in the first place. So what about me? Why haven’t you considered me? If I have nothing left I have nothing to lose, except your bulls**t that you’ve been throwing on me.

Safety does not apply to this feeling.

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