Who am I?
Standard procedure in most addiction treatment centers or mental health units is to have the patients use some art medium to create a self-portrait or show how they’re feeling. In the year and a half that the ATCs and MHUs were a revolving door for me, I made no less than six self-portraits and twenty-two drawings and paintings showing how I felt. Some were more extravagant than others. Some more confused. And you can definitely tell where my mind was when I did them.
I only kept one. I’m not sure where it is, now. Probably in a box somewhere, if I didn’t throw it away when we moved this last time. The therapist told us to draw a picture showing who we are. And almost nine years later, what I drew is still ridiculously fresh in my mind.
First, I drew an outline of some random chick’s head. And for some reason, I cut her completely in half. Not with a line or a pair of scissors. Just with the way I drew her.
On one side, she looked mostly normal. Scattered among the facial features were a few flaws: A gun, some pills, a tangled mess of an accident. But she had normal hair the same color as mine, a big blue eye and half a nose.
The therapist asked me what kind of mouth I was going to give her. And I shrugged before drawing half a mouth showing no expression and then a broken heart on the other side. I drew headstones for her other eye with tears and blood falling from them.
I drew snakes coming out the other half of her head. Four living babies and two dead, some boxing gloves, a couple bottles of booze. A couple joints, a pack of cigarettes and… I remember drawing this ginormous red circle with a line through it over something. But I don’t remember what it was.
I’ve been through a lot of shit in my life and couldn’t fit it all on one piece of poster board. So I drew what felt important. Then I sat back and stared at it for a moment. And I wondered if this really was who I am. Read more…