Vulneragility

The fragility that comes with allowing myself to be vulnerable. 

Rjukan 2019.09 - 2020.01

©KAT

Underlayer : ‘Grounding myself ‘ painted exclusively using my feet (2019 09)

Top layer : ‘Fragile’ painted exclusively using my hands (2019 11 - 2020 01)

Both layers, acrylic on coarse french linen. The linen has been cut to the dimensions of my body while lying down with outstretched arms - approx 175 cm high by 174 cm wide

September 2019. It has been 3 months since you triggered me and I am not OK. The flashbacks. So very tired. In desperate need of sleep, yet afraid. Knowing that when I sleep is when the attacks come. No longer an adult. In my sleep I am mini Kat. I am alone. I am petrified.

I begin to paint with my feet. Greens. Deep greens. The greens of my forest. Aware that I am feeling soothed, I sense the ground. I am in my studio, yet I am not. The paint on my feet, no longer paint. I have the sensation of walking through wet grass. Sheer pleasure. I am lighter. Almost floating, yet rooted. Grounded. I am in my happy place. At peace within myself.

January 2020. Feeling exhausted. Fragile, but not weak. Permitting the sleep to come. And with it the nightmares. Acknowledging to myself what it is I feel. What I have experienced. Knowing if it becomes too much, I will be OK. Adult Kat can bring me back. I am not alone. I have me.