How Grief and Faith Led Me Back to Art — Finding Healing Through Creativity

Last updated on January 12th, 2026 at 01:42 pm

I didn’t always think of myself as an artist.

Sure, I loved drawing as a child. I’d copy cartoon characters (badly), flip through art books, and watch hours of painting shows on TV. I even took a few casual art classes here and there. But it was always just a hobby — something I did quietly on my own, something I never thought would become anything.

In fact, I was told pretty early on that art wasn’t a “real path.” So I never saw it as one.

I also learned the piano, but unlike art, it (sadly) always felt like a chore. I figured I wasn’t creatively inclined at all. Even though I loved anything “artsy”… pretty books, slow walks through art galleries or museums, the feeling of making something… it didn’t feel like enough to call myself “creative.”

By the time I reached high school, I barely drew anymore. I mostly took photos… snapshots of overlooked corners and light in odd places. Writing came and went. I’d scribble thoughts, poems, and journal entries whenever I was moved by something I read. But none of it ever felt like art.

It just felt like… me trying to make sense of things.

Then came a season that broke me.

A complicated 4+ year relationship ended. And the high school me just didn’t know how to cope. I couldn’t bring myself to talk about it. And I didn’t know how to hold the weight of all I was feeling. So I shut down. I withdrew.

At the time, I was preparing for college entrance exams. Life was already stressful. And grief made it almost unbearable. That’s when I started writing again. Poems. Prayers. Blog entries on a private WordPress site no one knew about. I wasn’t trying to be poetic… I was nothing more than a survival attempt.

At the same time, I began obsessively making aesthetic notes for studying. I started a “studygram” and “studyblr”. I’d find new cafés or random spaces to study in, take photos of my notes spreads, and share Bible verses I was clinging to. Writing down God’s Word on cards or post-it notes, and declaring it over myself, became a form of survival. It helped me focus when everything inside me felt like it was falling apart.

Poetry became my prayer.

Photography became how I saw beauty again.

And eventually… I started to create again.

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” — Psalm 147:3

A Long Return to Art

Grief lingered for a long time. It changed me in ways I’m still uncovering.

In those years, I kept doing small creative things… taking photos, writing my thoughts, attempting brush lettering (which I gave up, to be honest). But I also tried to fill the growing void with distractions: dramas, books, anything to escape. Yet, all this while… I didn’t see it… my restlessness was simply a longing to create, to express, to let my hands and mind wander.

I kept bouncing between extremes… chasing moments of spiritual intensity, then slipping back into numbness. I’d read Christian books, pour over Scripture, then get overwhelmed again and retreat into comfortable noise.

Then the pandemic hit.

Suddenly, I had more time on my hands with classes going online. I found myself craving more time in God’s Word. I was watching sermons, taking notes… but I didn’t want to forget what I was learning. So I started visualizing them: drawing little doodles, making layouts, illustrating verse maps.

That’s how I finally picked up drawing again.

What started as simple sketchnoting slowly turned into an anchor.

“Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” — Psalm 119:105

I began learning art fundamentals… sketching more intentionally, and trying different techniques. This little act of creating felt like the remedy my soul had been craving.

Maybe It Doesn’t (Need to) Make Sense

Sometimes I look back and wonder if I’d missed out on things.

Maybe I should’ve socialized more. Maybe I should’ve focused on other “more useful” skills. Maybe I should’ve stuck with some things I tried learning… or any other path that seemed clearer.

But the truth is… I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Because those peaceful moments of drawing, writing, and creating… they helped me stay afloat. They gave me something to pour myself into when I didn’t know what to do with the ache. They gave me focus when everything felt too loud and too heavy.

They helped me hold on.

Why I Create Now

These days, I create not just to make something beautiful… but to make something honest.

My work is rooted in memory… in the quiet, personal moments that have shaped me. It’s grounded in faith… gentle reminders of God’s presence in the middle of ordinary days and difficult seasons.

Every piece I now make holds a trace of that journey.

Of learning how to sit with grief.

Of searching for stillness amidst anxieties and worries.

Of choosing to believe that even in the waiting, God is near.

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” — Psalm 34:18

And I create because there are things worth remembering. And sometimes, having a physical reminder of that… whether it’s a verse, a visual, or a piece of poetry… makes a difference.

I started Void to Light as a way to offer that reminder to you, too.

To invite you into stillness… into beauty that feels rooted, real, and reflective.

If you’ve ever walked through grief, uncertainty, or transition…

If you’re drawn to gentle faith, quiet hope, and deeper meaning…

If you want your space to hold not just art, but memory, healing, and light…

You’re in the right place.

I don’t know exactly where this path will lead…

But I’m learning to show up, create, and share whatever unfolds.

Thank you for being here. 💓

— Nicole