Art saved my heart.
Along with a group of heart-led women.
“I think it’s best we don’t continue this romantic relationship.”
9 months ago, he broke my heart, through a text message no less. In that moment, every word and experience with him before that was a lie (in my mind).
My heart imploded and exploded all at once. Shards of what was once a heart filled with love, pierced every corner of my body, leaving a million open wounds.
11 days later would be my birthday and a few short days after that, I was hopping on a plane across the world to Bali.
Getting on that plane alone to a foreign country, when he was supposed to be there with me, felt like a cosmic joke.
Every newlywed jet setting off to Bali on that plane twisted the broken shards even further into my body. I couldn’t stop crying as a stared at the empty seat next to me.
After 24 excruciating hours, I landed in Bali, one of the most sacred places in the world. A part of me knew it was meant to be this way.
I sat in a cab with a driver that wouldn’t stop asking me questions. The nail hit the coffin with, “do you have a boyfriend?”
I burst into tears. That shut him up.
I had just started seeing an art therapist and one week into my trip I was set to attend a women’s retreat with some of my dear friends at Pussifed Retreats.
This is meant to be. This is meant to be. This is meant to be.
I oscillated between this affirmation and hysterically crying in the shower of my quaint Airbnb. What the fuck am I going to do?
With the little energy I had, I turned to my sketchbook and tiny watercolor palette.
The only thing that seemed to help my confusion and chaotic thoughts was art. I painted the new landscapes and botanicals of Ubud—anything that would ground me back down to the present moment.
Slowly but surely, with every brush stoke, I pulled myself out of the black heartbreak hole that sucked me in again and again.
After one week of creating and exploring alone, I jetted to a stunning villa to fall into the arms of sisterhood. This is exactly where I was meant to be.
Before I knew it, I was screaming into a waterfall, baptizing myself with sacred waters. Just as the snake sheds its skin to rebirth, I too, was reborn.
Art and sisterhood saved my heart. And with that, a new version of myself burst into song (literally, on the last day of our retreat). My last watercolor drawings were appropriately two vulva portals and this poem:
blessings pour wisdom above webbed and washed witnessed we wore crushing rain it washed licked and clean we screamed we laughed we skipped we were seen naked with filth hands to the sky we raise we praise we open we redeem
Now, 9 months later, I bring you my heart, as we liberate through art in community. Together, we'll alchemize our inner landscape into an outer landscape, so that we can witness our own process of creation.
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With a full heart,
Olivia
If this story moved you in any way, please reply to this email or leave a comment on Substack. I love connecting with you🌹