The Healing Power of Creative Catharsis
Art as Liberation
By Ery Falco
“The opposite of depression is expression. What comes out of you doesn’t make you sick; what stays in there does.” - Edith Eger
I was 14 when I realized I didn’t experience emotions the way other people did.
When I was overwhelmed, I didn’t talk—I wrote and painted, and sometimes sang out my emotions.
It was my language. The only way I knew how to say:
“Something’s happening inside me, and I don’t know how to explain it.”
So I created worlds in my mind and brought them to life through a lousy writing.
But instead of being seen as expressive, I was told I was:
“Too emotional.”
“Too distracted.”
“Too weird.”
And maybe you’ve heard that too.
Maybe you’ve been told you feel “too much.”
Or not enough. Or the wrong way entirely.
But here’s what I want to tell you now:
Art isn’t just expression.
For many of us—especially if you’re neurodivergent or queer—it’s survival.
And I learnt that the world doesn’t get neurodivergent emotion, but art does.
I was always the kid who talked in movie quotes. Who sang instead of spoke. Who escaped into fantasy worlds instead of staying grounded in reality.
And no one understood why.
It wasn’t until my AuDHD diagnosis that I started to get it.
For people like me, art is how we regulate.
Art is how we cope with the chaos.
It’s how we feel things safely, when real life doesn’t feel safe at all.
Whether it’s painting, dancing, journaling, or writing poems at 3 a.m., creative catharsis is our way of making sense of the storm inside.
But most people don’t see that.
They see a “distracted kid.” A “drama queen.” A “dreamer who needs to get it together.”
Meanwhile, we’re out here holding entire galaxies in our heads just trying not to drown.
But this is exactly why we need creative and artistic catharsis more than ever.
We are living through a mental health crisis.
Especially for neurodivergent people, therapy can help—but it isn’t always enough.
Why?
Because our emotions don’t come in softly.
They come in like a flood.
All or nothing.
Overstimulated. Disconnected. Hyper-aware. Numb. Everything, all at once.
And traditional systems ask us to:
Sit still
Speak clearly
Be logical
Regulate calmly
But what if… we’re just wired differently?
What if we need another way?
For me this other way has been doing art.
Not as a mere hobby but more as for survival.
Let’s stop treating art like an “extra activity” in our lives.
Let’s start treating it like what it really is—a language of survival for everything that can’t be said.
🎭 Theatre lets us embody emotions we can’t name.
📝 Writing gives shape to spiraling thoughts.
🎵 Music and dance soothe overstimulated minds.
🎨 Painting shows what our mouths can’t articulate.
This isn’t just expression—it’s translation.
For neurodivergent, queer, and highly sensitive people, art is often the only bridge between inner chaos and outer understanding.
Let me bring in a little philosophy here, because that’s where this all clicked for me.
French philosopher Paul Ricoeur believed that identity isn’t something we have—it’s something we tell.
(if you want to read more about it, I explain in my previous post more of this, read it here)
We become who we are by crafting narratives—stories about our past, our values, our experiences.
Healing isn’t just about unpacking trauma. It’s about rewriting the story.
So when you make art, when you draw your inner world, when you write a poem about grief or dance out your rage—
You’re not just expressing.
You’re claiming authorship of your identity.
You’re saying:
“This is how I feel.”
“This is how I survive.”
“This is who I am.”
I can hear you saying already: but art isn’t therapy.
And even though it’s a valid point, I must say that healing doesn’t only happen in sterile rooms with licensed professionals.
Sometimes, healing happens:
At midnight, when you finally finish a painting that’s been haunting you
In a song you wrote but never showed anyone
On a stage, pretending to be someone else—until you finally recognize yourself again
Catharsis has never been about “fixing” ourselves, but about letting us feel and purge our emotions.
And feeling—especially for those of us who were taught to repress—is revolutionary.
Imagine you could be part of a community art circle—not a clinical space, but a sacred one—where no one’s trying to “fix” you, just witness you.
Because expression is healing.
Witnessing is powerful.
And creation is transformation.
The traditional model says:
Sit up straight. Use your words. Follow the script.
But what if:
Your story doesn’t fit that script?
Your truth lives in colors, shapes, and sounds—not bullet points?
You need to dance it out before you can even speak?
That’s why we need new models.
Not decorative, but foundational.
Not just art classes—but art spaces where we’re allowed to just be.
Good news is that we don’t need to wait for permission.
Here’s how we can start on our own or with our existing spaces and communities:
1. Create—without apologizing.
Draw in the margins. Record voice notes. Make bad art. Just make something.
2. Support neurodivergent and queer artists.
Follow them. Share their work. Buy their zines. Listen when they speak.
3. Demand real creative spaces.
Push for art programs in schools, communities, and mental health orgs.
Not as electives, but essential subjects.
Because, imagine this:
A world where no kid is told to “stop being dramatic” when they cry through a painting.
A world where drawing feelings isn’t “weird”—it’s wise.
A world where theatre isn’t “just for fun”—it’s how we learn to be human.
Because when we allow ourselves to feel, to create, to express—
We don’t just let the pain out.
We rewrite the story.
We evolve.
We become.
And that, to me, is the power of art.
So let’s reframe art—not as decoration, but as communication.
A language beyond words.
Because for those of us who struggle to explain what we feel, art becomes a way to make chaos visible and manageable.
And that all the chaos inside me could become something beautiful.
Because when we give ourselves permission to feel, create, and reflect—
we don’t just do catharsis.
We stop only surviving and start living.
If this resonated with you and you want to keep in touch, feel free to join my email list, or my Patreon.
I am just starting to build a community in Patreon of neurodivergent creatives for us to support each other.
If you want to join, I am giving away for free some spots for 6 months.
Use this link to join. (if you can’t join, it means the spots are all taken, but don’t worry, the tier is less than a coffee per month, just 5 USD and you can have a 7 day free trial if you want to try if it is for you)
I share personal stories, thoughts on creativity, healing, and art—and I’d love to connect with you there.
You’re not alone. You never were.
And you’ve still got time.
Love you,
Ery Falco
RELATED LINKS
Check out my mixed media project about my self identity and neurodivergence crisis here: all of my cages are mental
Are you an artist interested in creating your personal brand on social media? Check out this is the course I took to learn how to do so.
Would you like to buy any art prints I make? Go here to my online shop
