The Very Long Story of How Postpartum Depression Unveiled My Creativity

When I was growing up, I loved art! I mean who doesn't? 

Reason #1-As a kid, there is no possible way to fail that class. 

Reason #2- Messes are encouraged!

Reason #3- Color gives you dopamine. Lots of it.

I was a late bloomer when it came to math and reading, but oh art, what a wonderful class it was. I signed up for every summer school art class I could too. 

I had a few artist influences in my life. My grandfather was a wonderful acrylic artist and would have me sit on his knee and paint with him. He lived far away from me as a child so I just loved that quality time together when we had the chance. My aunt is also a phenomenal artist, and my jaw would just drop when I saw her works.

When I was a freshman in high school, I was excited for my first big time art class-Drawing A. I ended up not liking it though. It was my last class of the day so I was exhausted, I was being told what to draw instead of choosing, and every project was in black and white. I kept thinking "Is this what every art class is like here?"

So I quit. 

I hustled and bustled in high school to get the best grades I could, became an honor student in Spanish, spent every free moment with friends and had my sights on college. You know what's funny? My very best friends all took art classes. And their work was beautiful. I would get bummed seeing them flourish, but I just didn't see how my work could ever be as good as theirs. Classic teenage comparison was such a huge thing for me. 

Fast forward, I ended up going to college in the same state that my artist grandfather lived. I stayed with him during school breaks to help take care of my sweet grandmother. I loved staying with him and sneaking peeks at his studio. It was a sunroom-converted into his studio space! Perfect studio ever, so much natural light and nature inspiration! 

He would be in the middle of a painting, and tell me to go finish it for him. I would usually reply "Grandpa, I don't do art anymore. I don't think I can do it." He didn't care. He waved me into the studio and watched me paint. I didn't know how to move my hand, I felt so silly in that chair, attempting to make shapes like his.

After maybe TWO trips like this, he told me one day he had something for me. Imagine this--He walked me into his studio, gets out this wooden box that I didn't recognize (it was a table easel haha) and says "I want you to have this". Immediately, he spun around and started grabbing brushes of all sizes, so many tubes of paint, and these other things like medium that I didn't recognize. What did I do? I rejected it of course. 

"Grandpa, you don't need to give me all this. I don't even know where I'll put it!"

"It all fits inside" He replied, opening the box, revealing all its perfectly sized compartments. It was beautiful!

"But Grandpa, I don't even paint. I know nothing, the only times I ever do this is when I'm with you." I said, shaking my head.

I can't remember how he responded but I do know I ended up taking that box back to my dorm. I didn't touch it.

Guess when I started using it?

Not til FIVE YEARS later!

He must've known. There must have been something that told him that I needed that paint. I needed his confidence. 

So let's fast forward. At 23, I was married, in my last semester of college, majoring in Child Development in hopes to be a therapist for young children with disabilities. During my last year of college, I had my first baby. I loved those early days of having my sweet little girl with me. Once she was sleeping through the night though, I suddenly had all this free time and I didn't know what to do with myself. I had graduated, I was a stay at home mom while my husband was finishing school, and I didn't have any hobbies. 

I remember feeling embarrassed by my lack of hobbies, I could talk all day about babies but I didn't know how to carry on a conversation about Tiara. What does Tiara like to do? Um, eat? Sleep? Budget my groceries?

So once my daughter was sleeping through the night, I would just sit on the couch and scroll on my phone. We were very broke at the time, trying really hard to have my husband and I finish school debt free. So we didn't have a ton of gas money, we didn't go shopping a lot or out to eat. 

Being on social media for hours each day, is not good for your brain. Hahaha.

I fell into this trap, the comparison trap. Just like high school all over again but now on social media. This made me depressed. I was feeling rotten about all the things, my weight, my hair, my home. All the things. I was really blue, overwhelmed by motherhood and not sure how to nurture myself.

My husband could see I was struggling.

A couple months passed and we went home to visit our families in Missouri for the summer. While there, my husband's little teenage sister wanted to hang out with me and we decided to do a painting tutorial from youtube. I still have the painting, it's not great. Haha. It's this abstract black silhouette of a tree in front of GREEN and YELLOW sunset. 

I loved that thing though. I felt like my inner child came out of her shell and had so much fun. I was BEAMING with excitement. We painted again the very next night. This time we got confident and decided to do a Bob Ross 30 minute tutorial.

It took us 3 hours to complete them. Hahaha.

Again, I felt on top of the world. I just loved the entire process and even my painting!

We ended our trip and went back to Idaho, our tiny apartment, immediately falling back into my habit of sitting on the couch and scrolling social media each night. One small thing did change though, I started watching painting tutorials. I wasn't painting with them. I was simply watching the tutorials, just for fun. 

Again, my husband noticed what I was up to. For one of our rare dates-(again we lived far away from family so no babysitters), he took me to a thrift store (classic date for us since we had little money at the time). We walked around and he started picking up so many old paintings and putting them in our cart.

"I've seen you've been down and I think you should do some more painting..maybe you can paint on these! I can't buy you fancy new canvases or paints right now, but someday I'll buy you all the art supplies you want". He said, humbly smiling with hope in his eyes.

It was the sweetest gesture. Truly touched every inch of my heart. Afterwards, he took me to Walmart to buy some paint, the cute3 inch 50 cent craft paints. 

So that's what started all this. I started slowly getting courage to paint at night. I eventually dug out that easel box from my grandpa! I used that thing so so much. I would paint right after bedtime, nap time, I loved it. My grandpa passed away a couple years after that. 

I remember overhearing a conversation between him and my dad once. 

My dad "Tiara has started painting! She's getting really good" he said excitedly over the phone.

"Of course she's good. Tell her to keep it up" He replied. 

Again, I really think he knew. He somehow knew that painting was going to be a giant part of my life before I did.

Years in the future now, I sit typing this in MY studio. 

There is a painting hanging about my desk of a desert sunset sky with pink mountains, tall green cactuses. It's the first painting I ever did with my grandpa, while sitting on his knee, age 6.

I'm so grateful I found that little girl inside me again.

Sometimes I talk out loud in my studio, hoping he can hear me in Heaven. Thank you for seeing me when I couldn't see myself.