Poppies and Panic and Paint, Oh My

This one didn’t come from some deep place of artistic vision. Let’s just clear that up immediately. It came from being completely done, fried circuits, no filter, heart-pounding, chest-tight rage mixed with the kind of exhaustion that feels like your skeleton is trying to leave your body.

It started after a fight with my other half. Not even a screaming match. Just one of those classic “you’re asking me if I’m emotionally regulating while I’m clearly trying not to Hulk-smash the toaster” kind of moments. The kind that leave you spinning in your head while pretending to be normal because there are still dogs to feed.

I had nothing left. Couldn’t cry. Couldn’t talk. Couldn’t think. So I dragged myself into the art room, grabbed a canvas, and just… started.

No plan. No sketch. No brush. Just hands.

Big swipes. Texture paste. Fingers full of paint. I wasn’t painting something, I was trying to get it out. I was unloading my entire nervous system onto the canvas. The background ended up looking like a thunderstorm, and a nervous breakdown had a baby. So, accurate.

I left it there for a few days, because it felt too loud to keep working on. But when I came back, the chaos had settled a little. I didn’t want to erase it, I just wanted to layer something over it. Something softer. Like proof that even after the emotional earthquake, I was still here. So I added poppies. And ink. Not to make it pretty, just to remind myself I’m still allowed to feel something gentle after something hard.

The contrast stayed. On purpose. I didn’t “fix” it. I let it be exactly what it is:
storm → pause → softness.

This is what painting does for me. It catches the things I can’t say. It gives my nervous system a place to throw its full tantrum without me ending up crying in a parking lot or eating cereal for dinner while staring into the void. (Again.)

So no, this isn’t just some pretty floral. It’s a snapshot of a body trying not to combust. A nervous system scribbled in paint. And a reminder that sometimes surviving the day deserves its own damn canvas.