Art as Recovery: How Creative Expression Heals What Words Can’t

The first time I remember feeling truly connected to music was during one of the darkest seasons of my life.

I was in my early twenties, trapped in a physically and emotionally abusive relationship. I had no friends — I wasn’t allowed to. I was isolated. Alone. And quietly breaking.

The only time I felt any real peace was during my 45-minute commute each way from Castro Valley to my retail job. I drove a little run-down Honda Civic — actually, I had three of them over the years, no shame — and inside that car, something sacred happened.

I would blast Sia’s Bird Set Free.
Adele’s 21.
I would sing with everything in me.
And I would cry.

Sometimes I imagined a better life — the one I knew, deep down, I was meant to have. During those drives, the music was with me. The artists were with me. Their emotion met mine. It held me. It let me feel something I didn’t know how to face any other way.

Music healed me before I ever knew I needed healing.

And even now, as I write this… Sia is playing in the restaurant. Divine timing.

When Addiction Disconnects You From Your Gift

Addiction definitely disconnected me from that creative part of myself — the part that has known, since I was nine years old, that I want to be an artist. That love, that desire -- is a gift.

Even as I sang in the car during those drives, I was already lost in addiction.

My addiction began the moment I had my first sip of alcohol. That’s when I got away from myself. I forgot my desires. My dreams. My goals. I sought validation everywhere except within.

Until I was finally forced to face the music — literally and spiritually.

What sparked my return wasn’t sobriety at first. It was my first ayahuasca experience. I went into that ceremony deeply sick — sick in mind, body, and soul. I had been poisoning myself into blackout three or four days a week. I was lost.

And I prayed.

I asked the medicine to show me my purpose.

And the message that came through was simple:

“The way to your purpose is doing more of what you love.”

So I sat there and asked myself… what do I love?

And the answer came immediately.

Singing.
It has always been singing.
It has always been music.
It has always been music.

And yet, somehow, it had completely vanished from my life.

It didn’t fit into the social-climbing, the drinking, the obsession. I stopped thinking about it. Until suddenly… I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

So I started singing again.

At long last.

And after 30+ years of what felt like writer’s block — or maybe writer’s abstinence — the songs started pouring out of me. They haven’t stopped since.

But I still wasn’t sober yet.

So they stayed unfinished. Little pieces of songs waiting to be born. I wasn’t ready to mother them yet.

Not yet.

Music as Alchemy

Creating music has shown me that pain is not a limitation.

It is POWER.

My best songs have come from my lowest moments. My hardest emotions. The feelings that felt unbearable to sit with.

But in creating with those feelings — they would dissolve.

Sadness became melody.
Loneliness became harmony.
Fear became rhythm.

Pain turned into excitement for the song it was becoming.

That’s alchemy.

That’s transmutation.

That’s what art does.

Why We’re Taught to Dim Our Creative Voice

I believe not only women — but most adults — are taught to dim their creative voice.

As children, we create for the pure joy of it.
We draw to draw.
We sing to sing.

And then one day we’re told:

“Grow up.”
“Be productive.”
“Do something practical.”

What a lie.

Doing what we love for the love of doing it is not a luxury — it is essential to our well-being. It is what makes us human.

Creativity is not a hobby.
It is nourishment.

What Happens When a Woman Is Seen Creatively

I have watched women come alive through creative expression.

Through singing.
Through movement.
Through writing.
Through speaking.

I have seen women step into a power they always had — but had never allowed through.

When a woman feels seen creatively, she feels something rare and holy:

She feels truly, finally, and completely seen.

And that changes everything.

Creativity Is Spiritual

I believe creativity is spiritual.

I believe what comes to us… comes through us — from something greater than us. Call it God. Call it Source. Call it universal energy. Whatever name you use, art is how the unseen becomes visible.

That is why music moves us.
That is why poetry cracks us open.
That is why a single note can change a life.

Creating feels like:
Remembrance.
Prayer.
Release.
Purpose.

All at once.

For the Woman Who Thinks She’s “Not Creative”

I’m writing this for the woman who hasn’t created in years.

Maybe not since childhood.

The woman who is afraid to share her voice.
The woman who believes she isn’t creative.

Let me say this clearly:

We are all creative.

We just haven’t all found our medium yet.

Your creativity doesn’t have to look like art on a wall.
It might look like words on a page.
Movement in your body.
Ideas in your mind.
Truth in your voice.

And your feelings — even the painful ones — may serve a sacred purpose through your expression.

An Invitation to Begin Again

If this stirred something in you, I invite you to begin gently.

Pick up a pen.
Write something honest.
Sing into the room when no one is around.
Move your body without trying to be impressive.

And if you feel called, join our Soberana newsletter — not just to stay informed, but to stay connected to a community where your voice may one day be shared in a circle that can hold it.

My goal is simple:
To build the space where women don’t just survive, but remember who they are — and rise together.