My Art and Endometriosis Story

My Endometriosis and Art story 

I am a Costa Rican-American artist. I have been painting and drawing since I could pick up a crayon at the age of 3. Because I was able to draw and paint much more realistically than my counterparts my parents encouraged and supported my talents by placing me in private art classes. I eventually made it to AP ART my senior year of high school. I then went to Baylor University with an art scholarship. 

I attended Baylor University initially double majoring in Studio Art and Biology, two very demanding majors. This was about the time my endometriosis pain started to hit full force. Causing me to have to graduate a year late. On top of the physical pain I was enduring, academically I was finding college art (or maybe more specifically Baylor art classes) a bit limiting and constraining; and ended up completely turning away from art all together. So like most fickle college students, I ended up switching my major and I dropped art. 

Upon graduating in 2005, I entered the corporate world and for 6 years I was relatively successful but in the back of my mind, I knew something was seriously wrong. I continued month after month to feel the intense progressively worsening pain of my Endometriosis. The type of pain that would render me useless unable to do anything more than sit in a fetal position with a heating bad, popping Advil like candy. My career was thriving but my health was at an all-time low, the pain getting more and more intense. That was about the time I was finally diagnosed with Stage IV Endometriosis after seeing at least 10 different medical specialist over a span of 8 years and all of them telling me it wasn't endometriosis. My diagnosis led to many major, extensive surgeries. (One of those surgeries being an 8 hours laparotomy which included endometriosis and extensive adhesions getting excised from every surface of my pelvic cavity plus two bowel resections) After that major surgery I was forced to retire early from the corporate world, both my husband and I agreeing I should concentrate on my health. 

While painfully and agonizingly convalescing for a year, I was able to do some deep profound soul searching, ultimately leading me to pick up a paintbrush again after almost 8 years. Initially my art was for therapeutic and healing purposes, later evolving on its own into an unexpected career.  Since 2011, I have been trying to pursue art as a full time career and I am loving it. I owe so much gratitude and appreciation to my husband who is allowing me to do what I do.

Presently, my husband and I are on a difficult but hopeful journey in trying to conceive after heart achingly enduring many miscarriages these last couple of years. Since my endometriosis was diagnosed in 2010, meaning it went undiagnosed for over 13 years, the destruction from this benign cancer-like disease wreaked havoc on my reproductive organs. The delay in diagnosis is probably the primary reasons for my recurrent miscarriages.

To fully grasp me as an artist you have to learn specific aspects of my life & personality; my obsessive love of color, my innately introverted personality, my tragic experiences of being a child sexual abuse victim, my present fight against Stage IV Endometriosis (a disease that affects 6% of the women in the world, with the two most common symptoms being extreme pain and/or infertility), my recurrent miscarriages as a result from endometriosis and my lifestyle choice to be a vegan and live as holistically and organically as possible, also as a result of my endometriosis. Going vegan and eating a cleaner diet has done wonders for myself and many other women suffering with the pain of endometriosis. 

Through being vulnerable, raw and transparent in my art, I hope to be able to reach others struggling through the same issues and/or find common ground with others who share my same lifestyle philosophies. Hopefully showing them they are not alone. But, probably more importantly, my art is for me; to help me cope with the past, appreciate the present and be hopeful for the future.

Because of my introverted personality my art serves as my voice. My art is truly a way that I expose my soul to the world without caution or reservation; two things that I sometimes possess too much of. My art defines my entire being. It makes me who I am. It allows me to create. But not JUST to create but to create through letting go, letting go of over-analyzing, letting go of the pain, the guilt, the insecurities, the unforgiveness brought on by being one of those 1 out of 10 women with endometriosis. And in turn, letting in that which simply. is. Accepting with gratitude and joy my present. My art comes from deep within me, a deep, raw and visceral place I usually only visit when creating. 

Yes, I have had to endure some pretty tragic and earth-shattering things but because of all that I was able to find my power through the power in art, in creating, that helped me cope and heal in unimaginable ways, in ways only God could heal. I discovered that through my art, through the process of creating, I directly connect with God, the ultimate creator. Never do I feel more in tune with God, more present, more at peace, then when I am creating. Though, I would never want others to go through what I went through or am presently going through, I am proud of my past and present; and what I have overcame and will overcome. I would not change anything that has happened to me because it’s made me exactly who I am today, the sensitive artist I am today. How could I fully appreciate and be grateful for the multi-colored bursts of joy-filled experiences that have been beautifully sprinkled throughout my life, without also experiencing those dark and desperate times? After all, only when it is dark enough, do you see the stars.

My work may appear random at first, but upon closer inspection there is a common thread of exemplifying the beautifully chaotic. All my work encompasses equal parts of planning and spontaneity; a mix of direct and indirect intention, chance and circumstances. I believe this allows me to constantly be exploring new and different avenues for my work. I believe an artist should not limit themselves by technique or medium. This allows the opportunity for my art, the basic essence of my art to shine through, rather than merely my need to control. I attempt to manifest through conscious and subconscious color choice and stroke, that which is not seen with the naked eye: emotions, imaginations, faith, the soul...

My ultimate goal is to create an interesting work of art that engages people to debate their own interpretations through creating a meaningful dialogue, whether they become a fan or a critic. 

My purpose in life is simple: to create.... but beyond merely creating visual art, I know my ultimate creation will be when I create life

The 11x14 3D shadowbox art is titled “Endometriosis” (PHOTO 1) I deconstructed my original watercolor cutting out the main pieces then built them up in the shadow box. I pierced and wrapped real wire making sure to penetrate the uterus and snake it around the waist and arms in an effort to depict the overwhelming constraint we feel physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually. I used the red wax I originally used to seal our wedding invitations 6 years ago by dripping it on both the actual watercolor and the frame to mimic blood.

My husband and I agreed that the 3D piece will not be for sale BUT I did create an illustrative interpretation print that is for sale and is PHOTO 2.

You can find that print for sale here:

https://www.etsy.com/listing/125348785/8x10-print-of-original-endometriosis?ref=shop_home_active_19

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Please take some time to check out 

My Instagram: 

www.instagram.com/geordannatheartist

My Saatchi Art profile:

www.saatchiart.com/geordannatheartist

And My Website: 

www.geordannatheartist.com

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It's like I'm living her life...

*God*

I KNOW that God is good. I KNOW that God is wise. I KNOW that God is love. And I KNOW that God's will and purposes are formed in perfect goodness and perfect wisdom and perfect love. I know this, and I accept His purposes for my life. But that doesn't stop the pain. And that doesn't stop the questions. Why did He create life in me when I wasn't even trying to conceive and then wait just long enough for me to fall in love with my babies and then take them right out of my womb? Why?

Loss after loss I've asked the same questions. And loss after loss I've received the same answer--Trust Me. Love Me. I am here.

Yes, I trust You. Yes, I love You. Yes, I know that You are here. But...

Do you ever want to ask God to leave you alone? To let you live your life in peace? I do, or at least a part of me does. A part of me wants to beg God not to teach me His ways, not to mold me to His likeness, not to use me in His service. But then I think, what would life be like without Him? Would there be less pain? I don't think so, life is painful, with or without Him. I just wouldn't have Him to comfort, guide, and carry me. Would there be more peace? No, life is chaotic, with or without Him. I just wouldn't have Him to shelter me in the storms. Would there be more hope? Impossible, life is short and has a clearly marked dead-end without Him. He is hope. He is my only hope.


*Where to go from here?*

Every time I conceive a new life in my womb, my heart expands exponentially to create a home for that child and my mind stretches wide open to welcome a new life into my life. Every time I lose a baby from my womb, my heart and mind are left with a gaping emptiness I don't know how to fill. In the past I've taken those spaces and filled them with hope for 'the next time.' Now, after growing space in my heart and mind for three babies at once and losing them all, I'm left with such a huge emptiness that I feel lost inside of it. But my husband and I weren't planning on having any more children. God planned these babies, not us. So now what do I do? If there is no hope for 'the next time' to fill this hole, to focus those aimless thoughts in the night, to hold the pieces of my heart together, then what do I do with those thoughts and the frayed edges of my broken heart? I don't know. I really don't.

How can I feel so safe in God's arms, so sure of the rightness of His purposes, so certain of the wisdom of His will, and still feel so lost?

I don't know. I really don't.


*Job*

Have you ever read the book of Job in the Bible? It's always been a book I struggled through and didn't really like. It's all about loss and unwanted advice from family and hurtful comments from friends and the reality of God being God. But it's the story every woman who miscarries can relate to. You know what I'm talking about. We've all heard--"That's just nature's way of getting rid of something that didn't grow right." and "It's not like you lost an actual child." And, from the 'churchfolk'--"You shouldn't feel empty. God is all you need." and "God needed your babies more than you did." What I like about the book of Job is that God didn't get mad at Job for asking questions and for wailing out his pain. But God did get mad at Job's friends who acted like they were speaking for God, like they knew why God did things and how God thought. When people make those comments and when they tell me how I 'should' feel, I just remember Job and those comments lose their sting completely (well, almost completely).


*What it's okay to say*

Here are some suggestions for you friends and family members out there who need a little guidance on how to communicate with a mother who's just lost a baby.

"I'm sorry."
"What can I do to help?"
"I don't know what to say."
"I'm hurting so much for you."
"I'm praying for you."

And don't let a day go by for the first couple of weeks that you don't say one or more of those things. It's pretty much all she can think of at that point, and you not mentioning it keeps her silent in a world of pain she doesn't know how to share. Don't try to make her talk, just let her know it's okay if she wants to.

'what NOT to say':
"You can always adopt."
"You're young. You can always try again."(Would you go to a funeral and tell the grieving widow, "You can always just get married again"?)
"At least it happened early." (A loss is a loss, minimizing it is not supportive, just hurtful.)

God bless.


*Anger*

I debated about whether to include this part or not, but, in the interest of complete honesty, I had to. I know that anger is one of the stages of grief, but it is the hardest stage for me because I'm a peacemaker, and anger always seems wrong to me...especially when it's God I'm angry with.

Anyway, here goes...after another night of sorrow, I suddenly woke up ANGRY, not a little angry, but really, really MAD--at God. I tried to hide it, even from myself, but it kept seeping and oozing out and when I got a phone call from our realtor that the buyer had backed out of our contract, I lost it. I cried and ranted and raved at God. And once the anger started flowing, there was no stopping it. I spent the whole day in tears, asking God what He was thinking, where He was in all this, if He really thought I deserved to be tortured, why everything seemed intentionally designed to make my loss as painful as possible, and when He was going to finally decide I'd had enough and LEAVE ME ALONE! And, you know what, I discovered some things. First, I discovered that I didn't just suddenly get angry; I'd been simmering for days and just wouldn't admit it to myself or God. Second, I discovered anew that I truly am a sinful person capable of being about as unlovely and petty and spiteful as the next sinner. Third, I discovered that God loves me just as I am. He wasn't surprised by my anger because He knew what was in my heart all along. Fourth, I discovered that pouring out the anger in my heart was the ultimate act of trust. God said in His word that we couldn't escape from His love and that He loved us while we were yet sinners. Trusting Him with my anger was trusting Him to be who He said He was and trusting Him to do what He said He would. And fifth, I discovered that by being willing, finally, to trust God and walk through this part of the valley, the healing could begin. As I released the anger I'd been hiding in my heart, peace seeped in to take it's place. That is the gift of God, peace that passes understanding. And I could finally begin to receive that gift when I fully trusted God with all that I am, the good and the bad, the beautiful and the ugly.

I know I have a long, long way to go. But a subtle shift has taken place in my soul. I still cry at night and I still hurt all the time, but I am living again, feeling again, moving forward again. And that ever-resilient hope, so fragile, so easily crushed and broken, has risen again.

God bless.