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Brushstrokes Of The Mind: Where Poetry Grows From Memory And Loss

Exploring the connection between mental health and creativity. A first-person account.

I wonder where my imaginary friends are when I need them the most, as they were always there for me. Artwork: Jayati Bose
Summary
  • Reshma Valliappan shares her journey of using art, rap, and mime to navigate schizophrenia and brain tumour recovery.

  • She challenges myths around creativity, mental illness, and left-handedness.

  • For her, the link between creativity and mental health lies in process, planning, and learning to let go.

There are indefinite articles, research and narratives trying to prove and establish the connection between creativity and mental health. In fact, my own recovery using art, specifically painting, was captured in an award-winning documentary—A Drop of Sunshine—by Public Service Broadcasting Trust (PSBT). It traces my journey of eventual triumph over schizophrenia. Other documentary filmmakers, no doubt, have done research on the possible connection between creativity and mental health—connecting the dots and highlighting the journeys of people who have used art as a medium of recovery.

It is often said that left-handed people are extremely creative. I wouldn’t think so, statistically, given that there are many established creative individuals who are right-handers. So, what may be the connection then, since my very sentence may contradict itself? It is difficult to truly point out the exact nature of this connection, given the endemic of mental health and the use of art.

Once, I was asked to leave a corporate meeting because I was doodling. I left the room after providing all my inputs. However, today, corporate organisations have changed. They allow “doodling” during meetings because research says it improves performance and lessens stress.

Like other kids, I have been doodling, scribbling and drawing on tables, hands and question papers since I was a kid and that trait simply carried on and grew while manifesting differently. I was stopped several times, resulting in me being the deviant teenager of the early 90s—the kind of teens who needed to be fixed at all cost, but we could never be fixed, no matter how much torture was introduced to us, even if it wasn’t by our parents. Conversion therapy through religion, behavioral tough love camps—we outlasted every probable one. These things, without any doubt, destroyed, manipulated, shocked, confused and outnumbered my sense of reality, but I am alive. And I am writing this.

There, however, are many misconceptions that do exist. I, like most, can’t paint or do anything when I am in a state of depression. I have a variety of creative expressions, not just painting. I write poetry and rap rants when I am distressed, mime when I take to silence, and am a trained martial artist since the age of seven.

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My voices and visions have never left me. They have changed. Therefore, in all my interviews and articles, it has been necessary to state that my path is not for others to consider as their map of recovery, owing to the fact that I had a meningioma brain tumour removed 10 years after my diagnosis and treatment for schizophrenia. I developed seizures and synesthesia following the recovery. I was on a sort of a high, though. I did retain my imaginary friends that aided me and eased my life as I hardly stepped out with friends or had any social interaction. Life was dedicated towards building myself and work through multiple avenues. I was 31 then.

As I write this article, I sit with my best friend—my walking stick—as I have undergone the second recurrence of the tumour that needed to be removed, while feeling unbearably helpless that I cannot carry my toddler for eight months now. I have not painted, written, drawn, doodled or sketched. I can’t practice martial arts because my body does not allow it. My smiles are a lie to the outside world. I wonder where my imaginary friends are when I need them the most, as they were always there for me.

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My rap though has returned and turned into rhymes where my little one loves to spend time with me in our bedtime cuddles. Our mother-child link is not judged, but is in sync as there is no one watching, just us dancing. Thus, when we question the mental health-creativity connection, we must also question if we are creating a socially driven, probably toxic, self-relationship.

There are several, in fact many, who have reached out to me and it’s quite noticeable to others too that the logical conclusion is, if there is a connection between creativity and mental health, then having a mental health condition or disorder will lead to developing creativity, which, unfortunately, does not work that way. I’ve had to ‘burst this bubble’, and many didn’t like it.

The first time I received a nudge on rebuilding my creativity was during my support group meetings at Schizophrenia Awareness Association (SAA) in Pune in 2003. The doors of the outside world refused and mocked people like me and discriminated against our families. I kept painting throughout with bouts where I stopped, had relapses, regained myself and painted again. I did my masters in clinical psychology from a reputed university where the Head of Department (HOD), who then took over, did not like my presence and refused to let me in the examination room without a mental health fitness certificate. I wrote to the concerned university years later, though they did nothing. They wasted my four hours of travel time, chatted with me, offered me chai, and said “sorry”.

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The main role player, my aunt, who is a reputed artist and sculptor, told me in 2007: “I think, you should consider doing something with your art and with people.” She is not a lady of many words, but her words have stayed with me as a reminder.

There are several areas we cannot just overlook while establishing the mental health-creativity link. As a painter, irrespective of whether we are left-handed or right, we use both our hands—cleaning brushes, opening containers, unrolling canvases, maintaining our space, our personal hygiene, deadlines, segregating works to be shipped, archiving our pieces; there is a lot that happens apart from just painting and all of this is equally part of the process in creativity.

Planning is a huge part of it, which gives us that freedom to paint non-stop, be in a meditative trance and let ourselves be consumed and be in sync with our process. But, in order for this to happen, planning comes first and later, there’s a large amount of cleaning and decluttering, which equally aids our mind and helps us reflect on the toxicity we have kept in the form of an object. This applies to all forms of creativity. For me, to have reached this point of understanding, all of the above took a lot of time, as Google was not my resource. Today, it’s simpler for others to gain the above knowledge as a template sheet to be productive in their creative process.

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The best way I can end this article is, our best works are to be sold, to be applauded, to be performed, to be seen. We create and we have to let go of them. The ones that are not the best are reminders to work on ourselves or then to also be discarded not just physically, but from our minds. This is the most difficult link that can explain the mental health connection. We have been repeatedly reminded about ‘letting go’; this thin line between doing it is what links creativity and mental health, because even the best of gardens requires maintenance.

(Views expressed are personal)

Reshma Valliappan is a social creative entrepreneur, artist, pantomime, martial artist, educator, writer, lecturer, academician and an ASHOKA and INK Fellow.

This article appeared in the October 11, 2025, issue of Outlook Magazine, titled "I Have A Lot Left Inside" as 'My Tree Of Life'.

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