Anxiety has a way of making the world feel louder, faster, and heavier than it really is. Some days, it’s like carrying a storm inside my chest — thoughts racing, heart thumping, every little thing feeling urgent and overwhelming.
Over the years, I’ve tried many ways to quiet that storm. But again and again, I’ve found myself coming back to visual art.
When I sit down with a blank page, canvas, or even just a pencil and scrap of paper, something shifts. My breathing slows. My thoughts soften. The act of making — of turning inner tension into colors, lines, and shapes — gives my anxiety a place to go. Instead of spiraling inside me, it flows outward through my hands.
What I love most is that art doesn’t ask me for perfection. Anxiety often tells me I have to “get it right” or “make no mistakes.” But art reminds me that messiness has its own beauty. A smudge can become texture. A crooked line can give a piece character. Creativity invites me to let go of control, even if just for a moment, and that release is healing.
For me, art isn’t about producing something to hang on a wall — it’s about creating space. A space where I can breathe, explore, and express what’s too tangled for words. A space where anxiety loses some of its grip.
If you’re reading this and carrying your own storm, maybe try picking up a pencil, brush, or camera. Not to make something perfect, but to give yourself a safe outlet. To let what’s inside take shape outside of you. You might be surprised by how much lighter you feel.
In a world that often demands speed and certainty, art offers me slowness and possibility. And in that quiet space, I find a little more peace — one brushstroke at a time.
