by Michelle Potter Artist - Energy Worker - Wayshower | Aug 11, 2024 | Art as Therapy, Blogs
Let’s rewind to wear it all began.
I was only 6 years old when my father died and I remember those early weeks quite distinctly. Dad had bowel cancer and from diagnosis to his passing was about 4 months. One day he got sick and the next day he was gone.
Everyone bought me gifts. Passing mourners that entered our home brought me something nice, shiny and new. I was never a spoilt child and these sorts of presents were normally reserved for Christmas and birthdays. I was supposed to be sad wasn’t I? How could I possibly be sad when I had all these wonderful new toys to distract me. It was a very emotionally confusing time for me.
The morning of the funeral, I recall my grandparents pulling up the driveway quite early. I was excited because Grandad was here and it wasn’t even the weekend. He was all dressed up in his suit and tie. My Nan never got out of the car, and my excitement was short-lived as I also saw the neighbour, who always ate the best biscuits when she babysat, trundling up behind. Then Mum said goodbye and left. I remember watching them leave in Grandad’s car and feeling terrible and confused about the whole thing.
I cannot recall them telling me they were burying my Dad that day because that would be something I would definitely remember. I was just annoyed and confused that they had gone somewhere without me, and I was left in the house with the lady from around the corner who would tie her kid to the clothesline by his child harness.
Mum wanted me to remember Dad the way he was, not laying in a box, and as a parent we all have to make terribly difficult decisions. But I never had a chance to say goodbye. I never even had a chance to grieve. I carried that grief with me for over 30 years until I lost my second pregnancy at 11 weeks. The impact of well-meaning decisions around my father’s death influenced so much of my life. It wasn’t until I had children of my own that I realised how important it was that, no matter how hard, little humans also need a space to grieve.
As adults, we do everything possible to protect our children from the hurts and pain of the world, but it catches up. It’s not something that ever goes away until we are faced to deal with it differently. I spent many many years grieving the loss of my father instead of praising the effects and hard work of my mother. It was always about the loss for me. The Dad who didn’t come to special Father’s Day events. The Dad that couldn’t walk me down the aisle. The Dad I couldn’t hug and confide in because, well, he was dead. All I had for many years was a plague in a crematorium and no closure.
The void this created was a severe sense of lack. My mother became fiercely independent, and to her credit, we never went without. I may have grown up on second-hand clothes and Vegemite sandwiches, but we never went hungry, we always had clothes, and we always had a roof over our heads.
Losing a father figure at a very young age changed the course of my life and it hasn’t been all bad. Pain can bring out the worst and the best in some people. Not all people that are hurting hurt people.
Art has taught me how to express emotion productively and positively. Take my latest ‘Art with Heart’ cards as an example. I needed a constructive way to view my situation when I was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. I knew exactly what the negative self-talk was telling me, and sometimes, it was dressed up with pretty clothes and lipstick. This is why the negative side of these cards looks attractive and colourful, not dark and foreboding.
It’s a tough journey taking a good hard look in the mirror and recognising everything that needs to change within ourselves. The ego is designed to protect us and sometimes it takes a hard life lesson or two to knock us back on the right path.
Cancer turns you inside out. It affects everything and everyone around you. I believe my stomach cancer was my massive initiation into my life’s purpose. My more recent cancer diagnosis was to just make sure I’d learned my lessons. There are still lessons as part of this process, but I’m pretty confident I’m done.
I got it loud and clear.
Boundaries, non judgment, forgiveness.
Done done done.
Please, Universe, let me be done. I’ll be quite happy to shine right up until my number is up.
by Michelle Potter Artist - Energy Worker - Wayshower | Jul 11, 2024 | Art as Therapy, Blogs, Cancer, Life Lessons, Updates
A creative life is an interesting and challenging one. My mind has so many fleeting ideas. It takes practice to catch the right one and transform it into physical form.
Being creative has taught me that completing cycles carries over into life to help me finish things that I start. Not everything mind you, I am a work in progress!
The irony is, that once that thought is out there, if you don’t action it, someone else will. How many times have you heard someone say “I thought of that years ago. That was my idea.” Well technically it might have been, however, if you do nothing with the gift the universe gave to you don’t expect it to hang around! It wants to be birthed into the world.
The creative process made me question everything I ever thought myself capable of doing. For me that meant the four P’s. Patience, persistence, perseverance and practice.
Remember when I told my art mentor Lynn that I could not draw animals or people? Have you seen my art? I can most definitely draw those things, and so much more.
Let me take you back to Christmas 1978. There was a whole school competition to design a Christmas card and everyone had a chance to draw something. Granted, I had lost my Dad that year and the teachers probably all got together and thought it would be a nice gesture for me to be the winner. Of course I don’t know that as fact and I certainly wouldn’t have known that back then. So, when it was announced that my drawing had won the competition, I was so excited. My little stick drawing of Joseph and Mary kneeling down looking at the crib with baby Jesus. Designed by Michelle Potter written on the back. The very first time I ever saw my name published in ink.
My neighbour was someone I looked up to like a big sister. She was two years older than me and most days her, her sister and myself all walked to school together. After the winner had been announced she came up to me in the school corridor and told me that my drawing was really bad. That there were so many better drawings than mine. Then she blurted out ‘You just won because your Dad died’. My little heart was crushed. Looking back now I know she was probably jealous, because to her, I was getting an awful lot of attention, but to my seven-year-old self, it was like she had torn the sun out of the sky just because she could.
It planted a seed of doubt that me winning had nothing to do with my talent. I was now questioning, like most things that happened around my Father‘s death, that people wanted me to be happy and were doing nice things because they felt sorry for me, with of course the exception of my neighbour!
I believe this had a big impact on my art at a young age. It was the creation of a belief pattern that if I did something well, people I loved were going tear it down and often it was someone that I trusted. That being good at something brought out jealousy and nasty behaviour. From this moment I started to think it was much better to blend in and not stand out.
This pattern was repeated, confirmed and reinforced in different forms throughout my 13 years of classical ballet and schooling. I deliberately sabotaged myself and never excelled at anything because success meant I wouldn’t be liked. And I really needed to be liked.
Throughout all my childhood challenges I wish I’d had someone to encourage and nurture the creative side of myself. Someone to show me that I never really wanted to be like everybody else. I think the closest I ever got was my high school drama teacher Miss Collins. She was petite with short blonde spiky hair, wore baggy jeans and vests. (Very 80’s). She was a little bit out there and I loved her for it. I especially remember the day we all sang the Na na na nananana, nannana part of ‘Hey Jude’ so loud in a portable classroom, the teacher next door came in to see if our class had a teacher. I’ll never forget how red Miss Collins cheeks went with embarrassment.
A very important lesson for me is from the book ‘The Artist Way’. Julia Cameron uses the analogy of an elephant. That different people in your life will only see parts of you. Your work colleagues may only see the trunk, your family may see the side and your friends the tail. Very rarely will anyone see the entire elephant. Your entire self.
As an adult I now understand how important it is to surround yourself with the right people. To do what I love just for the joy of creating. It was never my intention to make a business out of it (if I can even call it that). It’s a platform to show off that baby Jesus Christmas card and If I make some money in the process then yay me.
by Michelle Potter Artist - Energy Worker - Wayshower | Jun 21, 2024 | Art as Therapy, Artwork, Blogs, Cancer, Life Lessons, Pancreatic Cancer
I didn’t specifically mean to go down a pathway of art as therapy and a form of healing; rather, it found me.
It was 2012, and I was still in recovery from my stomach cancer. My life as I knew it had been turned on its head. In a parallel universe, I’m sure I was enjoying motherhood and socialising, and my hopes of finding myself again included rejoining the workforce. This timeline, however, looked very different.
I started back up again at a weekly women’s circle, and my circle mentor suggested that I try pastel drawing. Up until now, I had only ever played with abstract acrylic art, and I dabbled with some cartoons. My mum was the artist in the family, not me!
Side note: In truth, when I first started Circle in August 2009, my interests were mainly focused on developing my psychic abilities. As it turned out, this was not a class about chakras, crystals or the paranormal. Most weeks were spent peeling off layer after layer of belief and societal patterns, fears, religious dogma and lifetimes of karmic dross. I learned a lot about myself during these years, and it had its time and place in my life, but by August 2017, I was grateful when the spotlight didn’t fall on me on a Monday night. There was a moment when I knew in my heart that it was time to step out of Circle. It had been brewing for a while, and one thing I knew for sure was I shouldn’t feel worse when I left than when I entered. It had become a toxic environment for me. It is an interesting reflection knowing that Circle itself became something that I needed to let go of.
Lynn Whitty (Shiona as she is known in the Spirit Art World) became my art mentor for many years after 2012. I remember getting my first packet of mungyo soft pastels and driving myself to her then home in Springvale (southeast of Melbourne). She had the most amazing acrylic painting, which had been an Archibald entry, hung at her front door. I stood there in awe and thought to myself, ‘ One day, I want to be able to paint like that.’
Lyn is a bright and colourful character. Her modern hairstyle, funky glasses, and laugh make her stand out in any crowd. The room she taught from had a room full of easels. It was warm and cozy, with years of pastel dust staining the carpet. I felt instantly comfortable. As several other ladies came in, chatting, mingling and settling down with cups of tea, Lynn asked what I wanted to get out of class. I stated “I can’t draw animals and I can’t draw people.” Boy, was I wrong!
My first drawing was of a man in a green cape with a wolf. It was pretty two dimensional, and his eyes were a little close set, but considering I had never used soft pastels before, I was really proud of what I had achieved.
Something shifted in me during that first lesson. I realised I was capable of much more than I had imagined. Getting through stomach cancer and surgery had mostly been out of my control. I had to hand my life over to other people. I had to trust that the doctors, surgeons and specialists did what they were trained to do.
There were many lessons in there for me, including that of letting go and being more vulnerable than I had ever been in my life. This ‘creating space’, however, was a place that was just mine. A place where my inner child could learn and play.
My inner child! Of course, I had been neglecting her. I had all this grown-up, responsible stuff to do. From the age of 6, when I lost my father to bowel cancer, I became the responsible one. My childhood had been cruelly snatched out from under me, and now, with the help of my cancer, I had a chance to embrace her again.
This time, she could be encouraged, nurtured and supported, and I realised it was my job to give her the time and effort she needed to flourish. I was starting to really understand the meaning of gratitude and abundance. My vulnerability had opened up possibilities. It created a place for growth and transformation, so that is what I chose.
If I could get through stage 3 cancer, then my life, as I knew it, had already jumped tracks. What did I have to lose? The worst that could happen is that I could fail dismally. But how was I ever going to know unless I gave it a go?
My Wednesday mornings became my ritualistic art day. I set up a small easel at home in our family room and I worked at my craft every single day. This was the beginning of my art as therapy.
by Michelle Potter Artist - Energy Worker - Wayshower | Jan 5, 2023 | Blogs, Life Lessons, Updates
“I am re-braving after a difficult stage that un-braved me.” – Jeff Brown.
2022 was indeed ‘The Tower’ for me.
January 2022, things were starting to open up, people had already started planning for a mask free future, but my hesitation had all but turned me into a paranoid skeptic who saw how ugly and selfish the world had become. I had already distanced myself from certain social media platforms and as much as much as my reflection started to resemble Shrek in his swamp, I reveled in the luxury of just being able to put my phone down to alleviate any drama that was going on in the outside world. It was generally nice not having to people.
School began, my eldest heading into year 12 and my youngest being able to attend his first year since commencing high school. Just getting accustomed to having the house back to myself felt weirdly quiet. I can’t say I missed the smell of the air fryer or the fridge door constantly opening and closing, but we had worked out daily routines so we were not constantly getting under each other’s feet. Getting reacquainted with myself took some time but I missed the kids and the company. I knew that life, as we all knew it, had changed and just as I had had an enormous amount to time to think and contemplate the last 2 years, I was not prepared for what was to come.
On January 18, 2022, I went in for my yearly colonoscopy. This is part of my cancer screening and is something that I have done since 2011. My histopathology came back showing the removal of a tubulovillous adenoma with extensive high-grade dysplasia, and lots of other medical terminology that no one ever wants to see on a report. I cannot tell you how much my heart sank. My specialist of 11 years was now all but retired to Queensland and his office admin were under strict instructions not to contact him under any circumstances (unless it was his week on in Melbourne) so getting hold of the right people to give this the urgency I felt it needed was nothing short of challenging. Getting past the frustration of pouring out my history to medical receptionists and being able to speak to ‘someone’ that would call me back sent me into meltdown.
Living with a genetic predisposition to gastrointestinal cancers is not something you can fully appreciate unless you are living it. Its not like a cough or cold that you ‘get through’ and then your life becomes healthy again. Living with this constant threat of another ‘C’ is my life. Fatigue and fall out from multiple surgeries is a daily grind. I have to prioritize everything, and I mean everything. From what I can do in a day, to who and what I give my energy and time to. What I eat on a daily basis can affect my hydration levels, my bowels, my ability to complete tasks and how much I can do physically. AND let me tell you, no matter how much spiritual work I do and how positive I am, shit things happen. Shit does not discriminate. It doesn’t care how kind or generous you are. It doesn’t matter if you give your last $20 to the homeless guy outside Woollies or how many self-help books you have beside your bed. Shit doesn’t care how much money you have in the bank or how many friends you have. Shit just happens.
Two gastroenterologists, my oncologist and a colorectal specialist later I was given the option for a partial colectomy or close monitoring (quarterly colonoscopies). It was explained to me that the partial colectomy involved the removal of ¾ of my bowel with a 12-18 month recovery and the possibility of a temporary or permanent colostomy bag. The thought of having to endure the same recovery as my gastrectomy was more than I could cope with so against my oncologists wishes I went with the latter.
This experience cracked me open to my very core. My mental health suffered on a scale I have never experienced. For the first time ever, I knew I could no longer do this on my own. I sought medical intervention for my anxiety and depression and by May 2022 I was speaking with a psychologist and on medication. It almost seems insane that I waited until I was right on the edge of self-destruction before I took these steps. My belief was always ‘I can do this on my own.’ Surely with all the self-help and spiritual guidance I had for support, seeking medical intervention seemed weak. How can I be a Reiki Master, a Lightworker Practioner, lead women in Circle, know all that I know and need help for my mental health? It felt like I had failed. That by doing this I was ‘a fake’ and clearly not spiritual enough to heal this myself. Pushing past all these belief systems was challenging. I accepted that being vulnerable was not a sign a weakness and even if we have all the answers we need inside, sometimes its a hell of alot easier if someone is holding your hand as you walk through it.
Not all that long ago I listened to a podcast from the Spiritual Tradie and he spoke to someone regarding our ‘Spiritual tool shed.’ That we have all been living in a state of overwhelm for such an extended period of time that even if we feel we had all the spiritual resources at our fingertips, some of us forgot where we put the key to the shed. This was me in a nutshell. I was thrown back 11 years when I was just a babe on my spiritual journey. While everyone else went on re-planning events that were delayed through the pandemic, I was being thrown back into a space of the unknown, of poking and prodding, tests upon tests, hospital and specialists’ appointments. So, not only was it was imperative I stay virus free but I had to navigate what this potentially meant for me and my family. And I cried and cried and cried.
2022 was also a huge year of acceptance. Finally facing my health issues head on and really accepting my limitations, which grieved me more than I had imagined it would. Letting my grey hair grow out (for a time) and seeing the 100% me. It’s a weird feeling being a woman in her 50’s, it truly is a bit of a void. It’s like a light switch turns on and you start the see the world differently. You certainly may not feel ‘old’, but your reflection lets you know otherwise. I remember my mum telling me that when women hit a certain age they suddenly become invisible. We sort of slink into the background. We let go of the last strands of youth but have to learn to reshape that into something new. Something inside us stirs and if we give ourselves permission, we can make own rules. Simply nod your head and leave the youth to make their own mistakes as you start to weave a new life, your way. No ‘bullshit.’ But this to is something we need time to adjust to, and for a while anyway we feel suspended in that space ‘in-between’.
Last year un-braved me so much that I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to face what may lay ahead. I am proud that I resourced myself, learned how to take better care of me and I am happy to report I am in a much better place now. If you are having a tough time, know that there is help out there if you seek it, and if you don’t know where to start, go and speak to your GP or a qualified medical practitioner. It is okay to be a complete mess and to have no idea where your life is going, no matter how old you are. The Tower always brings extreme emotional turmoil, chaos and scary adjustments. If The Tower has entered your life, then it’s time to rethink your foundations, open yourself up to a clearer spiritual path and a more truthful existence and remember you don’t have to do it alone.
Today is not forever. <3
Michelle
Image Credit https://unsplash.com/@sammiechaffin
by Michelle Potter Artist - Energy Worker - Wayshower | Jan 3, 2022 | Blogs, Life Lessons
Welcome to the year 2022 and a different world.
My blogs have been few and far between and 2021 was no exception. As Julie Andrews would sing ‘Let’s start at the very beginning, a very good place to start.’
This won’t be your usual upbeat blog because lets face it 2021 for the most part was pretty shit. I felt like Artex, the horse from the Neverending Story, slowly sinking in the Swamp of Sadness.
For those living in Melbourne Australia, I can only compare my experience to slowly being tortured. Each lockdown got harder and harder. The frenzied toilet paper grab of 2020 was replaced by cynicism when we watched the same thing happening in other States. Some of us even scoffed at a 3 day snap lockdown in Queensland. Watching queues of people lined up outside Coles as they prepared to bunker down for their long weekend. The mental and emotional toll it took on myself and my family was more than I could bare. Lockdown number 6 broke me, not to mention my Doctor, who would download more on me than I did on her every time I booked an appointment. Psychology waiting lists no longer existed because of the overwhelming surge in mental health issues amongst our community, including our children.
Our neighbour laughs about saving on petrol but wearing out 4 pairs of shoes doing laps of his garden, but all jokes aside it was incredibly hard watching the rest of the Country getting on with life while we were being treated like District 8 in the Hunger Games. Instagram posts of diners smiling at open restaurants, family gatherings and going on holidays, while we had security guards standing at funerals making sure the bereaved were not comforting each other and maintaining social distancing. If you think I’m exaggerating, I am not.
Then there was the division. Not just the overwhelming grief of leaving behind any sense of normality, but the personal impact this had on my friendships. There became a clear line within the Spiritual Community. In the end my friendship list and who I followed shrank as I watched many around me no longer aligning with my truth. The option to ‘unfollow for 30 days’ on Facebook became a futile attempt to not offend. As someone that works within this community with my intuitive art and women’s circles, I was somehow supposed to remain impartial to the constant barrage of posts and opinions from others. Telling me I was a ‘sheep’, I was ‘living in fear’, that I needed to ‘wake up’, that my choices were not the right choices. The kindness and generosity of the first 2020 lockdowns were torched up in flames along with a severe lack of empathy and understanding for other people.
Watching this all unfold last year had a huge impact on my spirit and my heart, withdrawing me into the safety of my own shell. My initial enthusiasm to extend myself to run online women’s circles and share my teachings via zoom in 2020 had long fizzled out. Instead, my daily outings became walks within my 5klms radius or getting my essential shopping whilst doing my best to avoid anyone that even remotely looked like they wanted to engage in conversation. Things got pretty dark, and I don’t mind admitting that in retrospect. The ultimate in shadow work, one might say.
Jumping social media platforms was my creative savior. Watching everything you have created come to a complete standstill is devastating for a small business. The lack of growth, reduction in views and interaction seems to be all driven by the push for paid advertising, and you can’t spend what you don’t have. I discovered a brilliant Art Community on Tiktok and landed on my feet. Arttok has inspired me to step out of my own way and try new things. All the while being truly authentic to who I am, not someone I thought I had to be to drive people to my business. And as with anything new it has taken up a lot of my time. Learning how to use the app, recording artwork progress, editing, learning how to engage people and to draw the right people to my account so I stay on the right side of TikTok! It has been full steam ahead.
My daily routine and coping mechanism. My creative outlet, my ‘new art tribe’, and my sanity. However, it has not come without its shadow side and finding a balance between escapism and inspiration has been non-existent. I admit I threw all caution to the wind and totally burnt myself out in the process.
It was a year of clarity and introspection. The weight of the collective grief was huge and here I was one little human not wanting to burden anyone else. I am a Reiki Master, a Lightworker Practitioner and a qualified Women’s Circle Facilitator, this was my chance to shine. I worked long and hard to attain my qualifications. Years of personal growth and self development behind me and if anyone had their shit together surely it should have been me? Well, just letting you know I didn’t, and I certainly didn’t do anything wrong. Accepting what is, is sometimes the only way to walk through it. The darkest of times is when we have an opportunity for the most growth, and if there is anything I have learned through my life’s experiences it’s that these times can create huge breakthroughs as long as we are willing to work through them instead of avoiding or dwelling to long on the negative aspects.
I’m not going to lie, my post lockdown lethargy feels like I have been to war and my energy is still quite depleted. As I unplug for a bit to recharge I feel like I have finally turned a corner. As far as goal setting for 2022 I feel I need to be more fluid, like water, so I can bend and move more easily with whatever is heading my way. I would love to hold Circle again in my beautiful big tent which has been a great refuge during these hard times and although bookings are looking up I would really like to work with more watercolor, so I will see where that takes me.
I know it’s been tough, really tough. A lot harder for some than others, and there are no guarantees that just because you’re a good person that good things will happen to you. Those story lines only play out in fairy tales. Life owes us nothing, it’s about experiences and it’s up to us to create the life we want to see. In the wise words of Mahatma Gandhi “We but mirror the world. All the tendencies present in the outer world are to be found in the world of our body. If we could change ourselves, the tendencies in the world would also change. As a man changes his own nature, so does the attitude of the world change towards him. This is the divine mystery supreme. A wonderful thing it is and the source of our happiness. We need not wait to see what others do.”
