Ruth Guest
There is no quick fix for this grief and this pain. It is relentless some days. But I am trying to heal, rebuild myself and move forward as many of you reading this will be too.
The childless tribe and the unique support it provides has been the powerhouse in my trajectory to recovery. I have some amazing friends and an amazing therapist but what you have to find somehow is some peace, some calm and some quiet inside of your own self. You have to find a way of accepting the life you are now living. This different life.
That, for me, is where creativity comes in. The first thing I discovered or more accurately, rediscovered, was writing. Having done a lot of creative writing as a child, it got lost amongst exams and university and then work. But in the midst of depression and burnout last year, when the childlessness finally stood up and demanded to be heard, it was writing that came to my rescue.
Journalling, poetry, short stories, essays started to pour out of me. They expressed and are still expressing my pain and confusion and help me to reflect and then try and make sense of how I feel. If I can ‘write it out’ of myself, the storm will often still.
The other passion that heals me is pottery. To sit and build and model with clay is a place of joy. Moulding, shaping and smoothing the cool clay mirrors what I am trying to achieve for my own self. You can never quite predict what will happen with clay, especially once it goes in the kiln. Things often don’t turn out how you envisaged them, but that’s ok. What matters most is the process, the being creative, the time spent playing and the joy you find within that.
What I have learnt is that any creativity will calm me and quiet my mind. It builds me up and boosts my sense of achievement and that is a precious thing when your very body’s entire existence reminds you of your failure. Crocheting, drawing, zentangling (drawing simple repetitive patterns that build complex designs) all enrich and open up my soul.
The drawing is my illustration of kintsugi – the Japanese art of celebrating broken pottery by repairing it with lacquer mixed with precious metals such as gold. It teaches us that we should celebrate and embrace our imperfections. Our brokenness is an essential part of what makes us who we are. It teaches us, humbles us and nurtures our empathy. It is a hard thing to view the brokenness in such a positive way, but I am trying to find a way. It is part of the processing, accepting and moving on from what broke us in the first place.
The image illustrates how the brokennessand childlessness affects both my mind and my body. The little one I lost is held in my heart, always part of me and always part of the brokenness that makes me who I am today
