The Artist's Way: Week 2 & 3 I am at WAR

The Artist's Way: Week 2 & 3 – Kicking My Ass, But Shaping My Soul

It’s been two weeks since I started The Artist's Way, and if I’m being honest, I am at war. But, in the best way possible. Each morning feels like I’m opening a door to a new version of myself, a version I didn’t know existed but have always needed. And every step, though challenging, is unraveling something deep within me, something I didn’t even realize needed to be unearthed.

Week 2 was all about recovering a sense of identity. And let me tell you, identity is hard. It’s messy. It’s raw. It’s not the neatly packaged version of myself that I’ve gotten used to presenting to the world. No, this is the kind of identity that makes you strip away everything you’ve built up over the years, forcing you to ask, Who am I, really? It’s the kind that asks you to feel—really feel—the parts of yourself that you’ve buried beneath the weight of expectations, the parts that have been hidden under the labels you’ve accepted as truth.

In my case, it’s forcing me to face the identity I’ve molded from pain, from the expectations of others, and ask if that’s really who I want to be. There’s no escaping the uncomfortable silence that comes with trying to define myself on my own terms. And honestly? It’s terrifying. But it’s also liberating. The more I face it, the more I feel myself stepping into the light, shedding layers that were never meant to be worn for so long.

Week 3 has been about recovering a sense of power. And I’m starting to realize just how much of my power has been scattered over the years, buried beneath self-doubt and perfectionism, buried in the lies I’ve told myself about who I am and who I’m not. As I sit down each day to write, I feel pieces of that power returning. It’s like my pen is pulling me out of the darkness, bringing me into the present where I can actually hear my own voice again.

It’s in these moments that I can’t help but be moved by how different everything feels. My perception of myself is changing. I’m not just healing; I’m emerging. I’m starting to see myself not as a broken thing to be fixed, but as someone capable of creating, of feeling, of thriving. There’s an incredible power in being present with yourself, in embracing the truth of who you are, even when it feels messy and uncomfortable.

And the trauma? Well, it doesn’t feel like an enemy anymore. It’s not something I’m fighting against, but something I’m learning to coexist with. It’s not easy. It’s heartbreaking, even, because there are days when it feels like I’m drowning in it. But then there are moments when it’s like I can finally see the bigger picture—that all of this pain, all of these challenges, are weaving together into something beautiful.

I’m more present now. More here—in my body, in my thoughts, in my emotions. And it’s terrifying, because being present means I’m actually feeling everything. But at the same time, it’s freeing. I’m allowing myself to be more than I ever thought I could be. I’m inspiring myself, and I’m learning how to inspire others in the process.

I’m watching myself grow. And though it’s painful, though it’s heartbreaking, it’s also exactly what I needed. Every word I write is a piece of the puzzle. Every tear I shed is a release. Every step forward is a victory.

So, here I am—midway through this journey, feeling broken and whole all at once. And while the road ahead is still uncertain, there’s something undeniably beautiful about the way I’m emerging from it all.

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