I think the differences between my art and I are pretty clear. My name is Basia, and I am about to start my third year of high school. As an approaching junior, people in my community would describe me as reserved and patient. Hardworking and involved. But I think my art often contrasts my calmness. I love to create expressive art. Loud and colorful and intentional. The art I am passionate about is the kind that speaks to others. I may not yet know what media I enjoy the most, but that is because I can proudly admit I’m still learning. I continue to experiment with colored pencils, paints, wood, pastels, watercolors; just about anything I can get my hands on. At school, I take about as many art classes as i can fit into my schedule; not only because I enjoy them beyond any other class, but because I am consistently educated about untraditional aspects of art and am given the opportunity to freely create with medias I have never even heard of before. Recently I pushed myself to try a Sculpture class where I would work 3-dimensionally with clay, wire, cardboard, etc. As compared to my regular Drawing classes… phew, these were challenging! Yet, I was able to create works that spoke to people. One very messy cardboard landscape reminded a family member of the beauty of their home country. Another rough clay piece conveyed the emotions of boredom and exhaustion to one of my teachers. A silly metal wire figure was able to make two ladies smile and remark at the motion they felt the sculpture portrayed. These pieces and the ones I continue to create still need to be refined. But knowing that my strange, bold artwork was able to say words I struggle to find, is incredibly special to me. In many people’s eyes, chasing a profession in the arts is awfully risky. Hearing other’s doubts and discouragement has become white noise in the background of my mind. While I am just starting my college preparation journey, I feel deeply that despite the uncertainty that comes with it, I want to pursue art after college. I don’t yet know in what way or what field or even in what media, but I do know that with some needed help, I could create pieces that would speak to someone somewhere. My art and I are different, but we grow and learn together. I hope to share my art’s voice more soon.

"Stop it. Shut up. They don’t care. Everyone’s watching you…." These short, yet cruel sentences, are ones I often repeated in my mind when I struggled with social anxiety. My name is Basia, I am 16 years old, and still working through the challenges that come with good mental health. As a young girl, I was extremely outgoing. I played soccer, hung out with friends, and gave out my boisterous opinions left and right. I loved to wear graphic T-shirts and the intricate braids my mom would plait in my hair. There was never a time I wasn’t thinking about my family, my puppy, or my big dreams. But as I grew older, approaching middle school, my whole perspective began to uncomfortably distort. My glasses seemed to look through new lenses, ones that spawned some type of extreme awareness of all my surroundings. Continuing throughout the next few years, my mind was endlessly swarmed with thoughts about how I looked, how others viewed me, and self-criticism on every aspect of my movements and reactions. I grew dramatically afraid of every social situation and struggled incredibly with interacting with others. My mental health deteriorated. My parents, who had hoped that I was simply going through an introverted phase, became increasingly worried about me. My mom desperately searched the internet for answers along with remedies, and my dad attempted to walk me through complex analogies that would supposedly fix my alienated mindset. Although I was wholeheartedly grateful for their efforts, I couldn’t rid myself of that dark, negative cloud looming over my mind. That was until a friend of my parents suggested therapy. And after careful consideration, my mom vouched for this idea. Although my initial reaction was to disagree and shut it down, I took a leap of faith and trusted my parents ultimate decision. And here I am today, diagnosed and still continuing my mental health journey through therapy and an abundance of support from my loved ones. Therapy, although an initial challenge, has provided me with a variety of tools to improve my social anxiety, as well as my internal perspective. My outlook on life has flourished into an optimistic one, with more hopes and gratitude than ever before. And I can proudly say, my relationships have not only grown in quantity, but also in quality. I admit, I actually enjoy starting conversations with new people and can finally get through a group project without nervously playing with my hands and overthinking normal conversations. I have also rediscovered my love for art. Even through the adversities that come with social anxiety, I have always been able to express myself with paints or pencils on paper. I’m excited to think about the possibilities that I almost deprived myself of because of mental health challenges, like college or art school. Because of my personal, roller coaster ride of a mental health journey, I have developed a stronger religious faith, more self-respect, and found passions that I hope to continue further in both my education and life. "You did it! It’s going to be okay. Don’t worry. Push yourself…."