Mental health and creativity

This is a subject close to my heart because, twenty-five years ago, I was diagnosed as bipolar.

When I was young, I struggled with anxiety and feelings of inadequacy. Though I wouldn’t have understood it at the time, I wanted, needed, to be good at something that gave me validity and self-worth. My only solace was drawing alone in my bedroom, which allowed me to inhabit happy worlds.

As the years went by, I developed coping mechanisms which masked my feelings. At least, I thought they did. The crash came in my forties when I found myself unable to face each day with any enthusiasm and couldn’t find a rope to climb out of a deep, dark hole. After finally accepting that I needed help, I saw a specialist who diagnosed my bipolar condition. Fortunately, it was lower down the scale, and eventually, after years of trial and error, new meds changed my life within weeks. 

Bipolar is often interpreted as manic highs and debilitating lows, but this doesn’t take into account what happens in between. On the ascendency, there were periods when I could think creatively until I neared the top, when my ideas became very odd. Dropping down the scale created a vacuum devoid of ideas or inspiration. I longed to stay on the middle ground where I could do something meaningful, but the threat of going up or down the hill always loomed like a scary shadow. 

In the meantime, I had to leave my business without a clear direction. Finally, creativity came to the rescue once I had my bipolar under control. It took time, but eventually, I plucked up the courage to try and become a professional artist. What a game-changer. Now, I had a purpose and sense of validity. This gave me the space to deal with what I will term conventional depression resulting from early life experiences. Once again, I turned to creativity and wrote a book about my life. It allowed me to think deeply and understand many things that had impacted my wellbeing. The process was cathartic and, in a way, personal therapy. It gave me the strength to deal with issues and, along with the bipolar meds, brought out the person I was always meant to be.

Several years ago, I wrote an article on creativity and mental health for an art magazine. The response was astounding. My inbox was filled with emails from artists who struggled with their wellbeing, many of whom did so secretly. This made me think about my workshop students and why some of them suffered from low confidence. In some cases, it appeared to be linked to underlying mental health issues, but for most, it was making art that brought this to the fore. 

Many artists, including me, have periods of self-doubt. This can be driven by the fact that art is personal and allows viewers to have some access to an individual’s mind. Sometimes, it forces the artist to take a defensive stance and constantly criticise themselves rather than celebrate their achievements. Yet, those students found the courage to come to me for tuition and I take my hat off to them because I’m not sure I could have done the same.

When I teach, I encourage students to acknowledge the positives in their pictures before addressing areas they are unsure of. I have learned to do this, which puts me in a productive mindset and makes evaluating challenges easier. Getting there, however, is very difficult when you are programmed to be defensive. The turnaround comes when we learn to create for ourselves rather than worrying about what others think.

Creativity is not a cure for depression, but it can provide a purpose and an opportunity to lose ourselves in a world of our making. This isn’t something that is specific to the arts. I define creativity as having an idea and doing something with it, which means we are all creative in our own way. Consequently, doing something creative can take us on a special journey and bring moments of joy.

One thing is for sure, the act of making art changed my life for the better.