How one artist’s journey of self-expression and healing led her to caregivers

Maria “Ria” Geary is a mixed media and fiber artist based in North Carolina. Our paths crossed when we learned about an art journaling class she taught dementia caregivers. Immediately, we knew we had a lot to learn from her.

Note: all artwork included in this article is Maria Geary’s original creation and was shared with her permission.

What is art journaling, and what does it have to do with caregivers? 

Art journaling is the process of writing down your thoughts and feelings and then combining or completely covering your written words with artwork. While journaling is an outlet for processing your inner dialogue, adding art allows you to control how many of your words are visible to yourself or anyone else.

Ria has found this entire process extremely therapeutic for processing events in her own life. Now, she teaches this method to people of all ages as a method of dealing with their own difficult circumstances.

For caregivers, art journaling is a practice that can be done with as few materials as pen and paper. It can take a few minutes or several hours, depending on what works best for you. You don’t have to have any prior writing or art experience to reap the benefits of art journaling.

Next month (July 2024), Ria will teach our Steadii community how to use art journaling as a healing practice in their lives.

Until then, here is Ria’s story in her own words, explaining how art journaling has impacted her.

Ria’s story: how she started art journaling

How many of us have heard the phrase, “Dear Diary?” 

I began writing my thoughts as a way to release tension when I was 12 years old. For my birthday, I was given a diary with a lock and key, and I was thrilled to have something I could “talk” to.

My parents' separation and subsequent divorce were taking a toll on me. When I was nine, we moved almost three hours away from my dad, extended family, and everything I knew in the world. Long distance was really a thing back then, so frequent phone calls to Dad, Grandmom, aunts, uncles, and friends were out of the question.

My dad and one of his sisters wrote frequently, and I cherished each letter I received. However, as the custody battle for me and my brother heated up, the letters and visits became less frequent. Everything in my life seemed to be falling apart. The relationship between my mother and grandmother was strained, and none of the kids in my new school liked me (or so I thought). 

I was an anomaly to them as the only African-American in the entire fourth grade. On top of all of this, I was closing in on double digits. I would soon be 10 and wanted a bra!

At some point, I went from living with my mother and visiting Dad over the summer to the reverse. I ended up staying with Dad for two years along with my brother, who had moved with Dad years earlier. That all changed the summer of my 8th-grade year when we visited our mother and did not return to Dad’s. 

Writing was my safe space. My thoughts were under lock and key. The privacy of writing acted as a catalyst to shed the weight of my mother’s second, then third husband—a soothing balm for my soul.

However, on one of the, “You’re going to live with your Dad,” moves, my safe space was left behind. I came home from school to find my bags packed, and after a tearful two-hour bus ride and unpacking, I discovered my diary had been left behind. Not only had it been found, but it had also been read. 

Many decades later, I can describe the feeling like this: 

● Hurtful 

● Violated 

● Exposed 

● Disappointed 

● Betrayed 

Betrayed is on the list because it was my mother (who gave me the diary) who also encouraged me to write. Had I known it was for her to spy and invade, I may have chosen to be less descriptive of what I was experiencing. In other words, I would’ve lied. 

I was around 14 or 15 when my diary was found and had been tossed back and forth between parents for about three years. I had pretty much given up trying to cope without my diary and chose to act out my frustration with rebelliousness and anger.

My grades suffered, and the weirdest thing began to happen inside my body. I had trouble sleeping and couldn’t keep any food down. It seemed everything I ate would make me vomit, including my beloved french fries! Several trips to the doctor and an upper GI later revealed ulcers.

Though my parents were divorced, my maternal grandmother still considered Dad to be her son-in-law and lived close enough for frequent visits. On one occasion, my dad asked if she would talk to me about my behavior. I think I used that visit with my grandmother as a therapy session and poured out my heart about all that was going on. 

When Dad came to pick me up, she explained to him that there was nothing physically wrong with me. The problem was that now I was holding everything inside because I no longer had an outlet to write out my feelings.

She encouraged me to express whatever was bothering me. “Don’t hold it in! Speak what’s on your mind and let it out!” I did just that and used colorful language to do so. 

Of course, I got in trouble for cursing like a sailor, but my stomach didn’t hurt. In fact, I’d rather have my privileges or allowance taken away for cursing (even teachers) because that was nothing compared to not being able to eat without throwing up and having chronic pain in my stomach. 

Making the choice to have a consistent writing practice has many benefits. My favorite is the “release from within” as I like to call it, which gets it out of our bodies and subsequently out of our minds.

That's not to say that everything we write about we will no longer think about. I believe the negative and repetitive record of a given situation gets less air time when I’ve taken the time to write out my thoughts behind it. The positive choice to make time to be still and write allows for clarity to emerge instead of rumination to take over.

To this day, I still write, and one may find my journal on the coffee table. I’ve already shared whatever anxiety I was having with that person or unpleasant situation I was facing, so it’s not a secret. If you happen to pick it up and read it, it’s just me further processing my thoughts. Nothing new. Just a cleansing continuing to take place.

More art journaling and other practices for caregivers

Ria’s art journaling lesson(s) will be live in our free Steadii caregiver community in July 2024. If you have a unique approach to navigating the difficulties that come with caregiving, we’d love to hear about it. Email your insights and ideas to howdii@steadii.com for the chance to be featured on our blog and in our community.

The more resources we share with one another, the more confident and capable caregivers we become.