When the Heart Breaks, the Artist Wakes

When my cat, Vincent, died, I’d come home to an apartment that felt completely bare. I hadn’t decorated—even though I’d lived there for years.

The place was sparse, with white walls and minimal furniture. But the real emptiness came from his absence.

This had been his domain. His kingdom. Without him, the energy was gone. The silence was deafening.

I couldn’t sit in that void. I needed to shift the energy—to reframe the loss.

So I painted the entire apartment. Rearranged every piece of furniture. My grief needed somewhere to go.

Redesigning my home became an act of healing. Of reclaiming. Of making something new from what had been lost.

Because if I didn’t create something, I knew I’d get stuck just trying to survive.

Let’s be honest—coping can be necessary. Even the strategies that help us disconnect—like avoidance, denial, or shutting down—can feel like lifelines when we’re trying to stay afloat in deep emotional waters.

They protect us when we’re not yet ready to feel it all.

But here’s the distinction I’ve learned:If your behavior is hiding a problem, masking a wound, or numbing a feeling, it’s probably coping.If it’s facing the truth, finding a path forward, or inviting something new—then it’s creating.

Coping manages.Creating moves.

It doesn’t always mean making art—but sometimes, it does.Like Gwen Stefani—after her breakup with bandmate Tony Kanal, she turned that heartbreak into Don’t Speak, one of the rawest breakup anthems of all time.

Van Gogh. Munch. Picasso. Frida Kahlo. They didn’t just express grief—they transfigured it.Frida painted her physical, emotional, and existential pain into vivid, surreal works.

Her suffering didn’t silence her. It gave her voice.

There’s something sacred about that kind of transformation.When the heart breaks, the artist wakes.That’s something I’ve come to believe—because I’ve lived it.

And when we let pain move through us—when we honor it instead of avoiding it—it becomes a portal. A threshold.

Creation is how we alchemize loss. Whether through paint, song, or space, we make meaning from the mess.

I remember painting the walls in my apartment to Frou Frou’s Let Go, singing:There is beauty in the breakdown.And realizing—I wasn’t just creating a space to heal.

I was opening a door to something new.

Soon after, I found the perfect furniture on the street.  Then, an older couple in my building , who were downsizing, gifted me a few beautiful pieces.

Everything started coming together—almost magically.

Finally I  fell in love with a stray alley cat that I rescued.Her name was Sadie.

I thought I was making space to grieve... But I was actually making space… for her.

COACHING TAKEAWAY:

Sometimes, what looks like a coping mechanism is actually a quiet attempt to create.

And sometimes, the act of creating becomes the first invitation to healing.

So here’s my question to you:Are you decorating the space of your life with what’s familiar—even if it no longer fits?

Or are you ready to move some things around and make room for what’s next?

You don’t have to be an artist to create.

You just have to be willing to make something—anything—that reflects what matters to you now.

If you’re standing at the edge of change, and not sure whether you’re surviving or stepping into something new, let’s talk.

This is the work I do with clients every day: helping them turn breakdowns into openings, and loss into forward movement.

 Schedule a coaching conversation here

Let’s make space for what’s waiting for you on the other side..