How Art Became My Lifeline: A Journey Through CPTSD and Creativity

For a long time, I didn’t have the words.

Living with Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (CPTSD) is like carrying a storm inside you—a mix of tangled memories, fear, grief, and survival mechanisms that don’t just go away with time. For me, the breakthrough didn’t come through language. It came through art and this is how art became my lifeline especially when the unthinkable happened in 2021, my now ex-husband abandoned our marriage and stole our children from me.

The Silence of Trauma

Trauma is isolating. Especially when it's complex and layered over years, the impact becomes hard to name, much less explain to others. I remember the days when my emotions felt locked behind a wall. Talking about what I had experienced—or how it continued to affect me—was impossible. Even journaling felt overwhelming. That’s when I turned to something more instinctive: creating.

I didn’t call it “art therapy.” I didn’t even call it “art.” I just started making marks on a page. Even with my background in developmental psychology and art therapy it definitely took on a different unknown yet comforting feeling of expression that I had yet to experience on this side of trauma.

The First Stroke of Freedom

At first, it was scribbles. Angry, chaotic, disjointed. Then came colors. Shapes. Eventually, images that told stories I didn’t know I was carrying. I wasn’t creating to be seen. I was creating to survive.

In painting, drawing, and collage, I found a language I could trust. Art gave me a container for the feelings that didn’t fit into sentences. Each piece became a safe place to express what had once felt inexpressible.

Processing Without Words

One of the most healing aspects of creating art while living with CPTSD has been the ability to process trauma without having to relive it verbally. Sometimes words retraumatize. But art allowed me to face memories symbolically, to work through pain in layers—just like paint.

I noticed patterns in what I was creating. Certain themes would reappear: protection, transformation, the body, escape. Through these images, I began to understand myself better. And slowly, my nervous system started to settle.

Creativity as a Mental Health Tool

What began as a lifeline became a practice. I now see creativity not as a luxury or hobby, but as a vital mental health tool. On the days when anxiety spikes or flashbacks come, I know I can return to the page. I don’t always need to have a plan—just the willingness to show up.

Art has helped me:

• Regulate my emotions

• Reconnect with a sense of agency and control

• Access joy and playfulness, even during recovery

• Create a visual narrative of healing and resilience

Sharing Without Shame

Eventually, I started sharing my art. First with a trusted therapist, then with a small community, and later more publicly. The response was healing in itself: I wasn’t alone. Others saw their own stories in mine.

There’s power in expression. And there’s power in being seen—especially when trauma has taught you to hide.

My Ongoing Journey

Healing isn’t linear. I still live with CPTSD. But art continues to meet me where I am, whether that’s in pain, numbness, or hope. It gives me a way to reconnect with my body, my story, and my strength.

If you’re reading this and struggling to put your feelings into words, I invite you to pick up a pencil, a brush, or even just a blank page. You don’t need to be “an artist.” You just need to be willing to listen to what your inner world is trying to say.

You might be surprised by what comes through

If you’ve used art to process your own mental health journey, I’d love to hear your story. What has creativity helped you unlock or understand? Let’s create space for healing—one brushstroke at a time.