The Artful Dodger

I believe that everyone with Aspergers has been given a special gift. Well, I actually think that every single person has a special gift. I tend to think of mine as not so much a gift, but more a consolation prize for being “wired a little differently”. 

 My consolation prize is art and one I am quite thankful and blessed to have and one that serves many purposes and fills many voids  in my life.

Art is not only my primary form of entertainment, but also works wonderfully as a creative outlet, as a way to give back something in life, and I find, for me, it has medicinal actions.   Art is a sedative, an anti depressant and a pain killer, all rolled into one magical, healing capsule to which I am  highly addicted.

I am never bored when I have art projects…in fact, I sometimes have to set an alarm to bring me back to the real world, for I can get can become totally sumbersed in art for hours on end and miss out on important things, like getting some sleep before I have to go work the next day. Art is one of the few things I can stay focused on for any lenght of time so it gives me a good feeling of accmoplishment, as I tend to spend a lot of time in life, just wandering around in a distracted circle of frustration and incompetence.

It is within the depths of my modest, secluded world of art that I discern not only things about myself, but also about others and about life in general and it is also within the deepness of art that I find great healing and purpose.

The picture you see on this entry is a drawing I did from a portrait that was taken of my mother when she was sixteen years old. A little over two years ago, my mother was murdered by one of my siblings. Though it may appear that I am seldom at a loss for words, I have yet to find a way to accurately and adequately describe the devastation of that event.

 However, the creation of that drawing served a number of  purposes. One being that it helped me escape from the harsh reality of what had transpired…in the hours that I spent on the drawing, I could dodge all that emotional upheaval. Secondly, I felt it would honor her in some way and thirdly, I did it as a gift for my family. In situations such as that, I truly have no idea what I should or am supposed to do, it totally baffles me and makes me feel doubly awkward.

Sometimes, I don’t do anything, which makes me appear cold or uncaring, but that is far from the truth. If I knew how to express my feelings as such or what actions I needed to take, I would by all means, do so. That drawing was the only thing I could think of that might help, a gift or love and honor and they did truly love it and it made them smile and I knew I had done well. So, when in doubt, draw a picture.

If I am anxious or edgy, I can sit down with a pencil and paper and it is if all that tension magically channels itself, through the pencil and onto the paper and I am merely the catalyst. Even just doodling is calming…it is not always the solution, as one cannot always, in a tense situation, throw caution to the wind and doodle at will, but here, in my inner sanctum, I can doodle myself to calmness. It tends to open up my thought passageways so I can acquire clarity on a situation.

For me, the healing properties of art are phenomenal. Being as I am, I tend to get “left out” of life, a lot…not always, but far too often for my liking. Holidays, the celebrating of birthdays of loved ones, numerous events…I am seldom invited anywhere and it is, at times, exceedingly hurtful. Sometimes it bothers me little and other times, it cuts to the bone. I often struggle with the notion that I am being punished or shunned for the way I am,  that I am an embarassment to my family and friends or that I am just forgotten, period. To most, that probably sounds very childish, but Aspergians are not always know for being emotionally mature. For me, it is very real and something that I strive to conquer.

It is those times, when it has cut to the bone and left a gaping wound, that my consolation prize is most appreciated. My art then becomes an instrument of healing. For one thing, it takes my mind off the pain that I feel, again I can “dodge” it for a bit, and again, it allows my thoughts to go from a jumbled mess of mind talk to something more coherent but best of all, art becomes something of a suture.

With each stroke of a paintbrush or pencil, I envision that stroke as being one stitch in the wound, pulling all that disarray together, back into something cohesive, the edges once more touching and no longer a gaping, unsightly mess.

 Once it is all bound together, in a neatly sewn little package, then I can begin to come to terms with the hurt I am feeling. Often times, by the time the artwork is finished, all is well. I do not believe that my loved ones ever intentionally hurt me…in fact, those who know me well, know that I am not often comfortable in strange places, in crowds or with people I do not know and therefore, deem a lot of things to be “not right” for me and for the most part, they are correct. However, sometimes just being given the opportunity to aceept or decline can make for one “happy Aspie”.

I also love to share my artwork with others. I seldom start a piece of art, that I do not already have a recipient in mind. My art is like my gardening, I love to share and it is a way that I express my love to others. Art is my “verb” so to speak.

For anyone, not just those with Aspergers, finding ways to use your gift, for yourself and for others, is a joyous thing. For healing, for fun, relaxation, to express yourself, to give to others…there is so much you can achieve, just by using the gift or gifts with which you have been blessed. Don’t let you gifts stagnate. Keep them fresh and alive and use them with all your might. It will make a notable difference in  your world and in the world of others.