My Story

 

As a child, I was labelled lazy weak and not too bright. I found it difficult to make friends and was bullied through most of my childhood.  Art was a subject I found easy. It became my go to place, where I could zone out and feel ok. During break time, if the bullying got too much, I would hide in the toilets, take out my drawing pad and doodle my time away untill lunch time was over, only for the torment to begin again, no one to talk to, no one to tell me it was going to be ok.

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I was eager to take my artwork home and show my parents, but most often my paintings were tossed to one side and told

 "I will have a look later", but later never came. My parents are Cypriot. There was a common belief that children should be

 seen and not heard. This is not a Cypriot thing but something I heard a lot as a child.

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I was laughed at, when I said I wanted to be an artist, "That's not a real job", my dad would say. This influenced and 

  discouraged me so I never pursued a career in art, even though always dreamt of how it would feel to teach. Those words never left me. Then things took a turn at the age of 52 when I was working with the adolescent as an O.T.A (Occupational Therapy Assistant) in a Mental Health Hospital, North London.

 

The Art teacher was away and we had no one to cover the Art classes so I offered to help. I was not a qualified teacher so I was riddled with anxiety yet there was an overwhelming feeling that I wanted to do this, I could not ignore it. Have you ever heard the saying, 'First the universe whispers, then it screams?' I remember my monkey mind telling me I was going to embarrass myself. I had to ignore it. I thought, 'I need to fake it till I make it' but after the first session, I new I did not have to fake a thing.

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That's when I felt my calling. My inner child in the art room, the smell of fresh clean paper and paint made me feel I was home. Visions of my teacher smiling at me and praising my work. The children at the Hospital would say quite often, "you really love what you do, it really shows”. That was great to hear. I was never great at receiving compliments, but this time, I felt I could. On many occasions I was overwhelmed by the children's unknown talents and found myself being inspired by them.

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I was taken aback by one comment however, "You must be an amazing mum" said one child during the Art class. It felt like a stab in the heart, because I was not a perfect mum. I felt my children grew up before I had time to appreciate them, to give my all and be more present. 

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'Mindful journaling' became one of the most popular creative groups at the hospital. It gave me the opportunity to focus on the child's individual's strengths, whether it be poetry, or any kind of creative writing, painting or drawing. The benefits of the  Journals were endless. This made me feel whole again.

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​I was promoted to O.T.A (Occupational Therapy Assistant) and continued to lead Art and the creative groups.

After a couple of weeks into my new Job role, I was asked by the Therapy Lead if I could paint a picture to brighten up the office. I was flattered to be asked. The therapist adds, “in return, I will give you a mini assessment, though you will need to be referred to the clinic by your GP" she said casually. "On what"? I asked, very confused, she replied "I have observed classic signs and symptoms to ADHD" 

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I was diagnosed with ADHD at the age of 52. Looking back, everything made sense. It was like a jigsaw puzzle, finally finding the missing pieces. The inattention, unable to focus, distracted very easily unless the topic interest me, hyper focus, disorganisation, low self-esteem and confidence. My healing started during the creation of;

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 "My Picture Diary Playground”

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 So I continue to focus on creating children's books that embrace our children's uniqueness, allowing them the

freedom to feel safe to express themselves, connect and feel heard. 

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Thank you!

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    for taking the time to read my story.

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