Art Therapist

I arrive early to arrange the studio—setting out fresh supplies, checking that the natural light hits the easels just right. My first client arrives quiet and guarded; we begin with color exploration, no pressure to create anything recognizable. I watch how they hold the brush, which hues they gravitate toward, what emerges. Between sessions, I document observations in their file and consult with the psychiatrist about what we're seeing. The afternoon brings a group session with adolescents: there's laughter, some friction, one breakthrough moment when a teenager finally puts their anxiety into paint. By evening, I'm reviewing artwork from the week, noticing patterns, sketching notes for next sessions. The work is slower than talk therapy—intentional, image-based—but something shifts in the silence between words.