- Stacy Goltsev
- 4 days ago
- 3 min read
Expression: My Second Art of Self-Healing
After simply being with and in nature, my second art of self-healing is Creative Expression.
For a long time, I carried a deep wound—the feeling of not being truly seen. Not the polished, pleasing version of me, but the raw, unfiltered, authentic self.
As a child, I grew up believing I was loved—because I was—but under many layers of conditioning. I was loved as long as I remained “the good, easy girl.” This taught me to shape-shift, to please, to smooth out my own edges until I forgot where my needs and limits even began.
Greece has been, and still is, a huge part of my healing journey. Here, I somehow allowed myself to peel off the masks and offer others a small window into my real self. Or maybe it was the other way around—meeting deep, soulful individuals on my first steps in this land, people who could see right through me. That kind of seeing makes all guarding feel pointless.
I believe both factors matter: our personal willingness to open up, to get vulnerable, to lead with emotion instead of thought—and the gift of meeting others who hold space for us to do so.
Living Expressively
A wide spectrum of who we are shows up in how we express ourselves—in relationships, and, of course, with ourselves.
Looking back, I realize I probably carried what people call social anxiety. I couldn’t relax outside my four walls; being “out there” felt exhausting. But lately, another layer has been peeled away.
Now I sing. I dance. I let myself be seen in public—with no shame when I get it “wrong” and no guilt for all the parts where I absolutely rock and roll.
I realize now there’s no one to impress but my own heart, my own vision, my own joy. Creative expression isn’t about becoming a professional painter or sculptor. It’s about allowing whatever I do to become a way of expressing my preferences, my style, my taste.
Sometimes, just the act of expressing anything at all is the beginning.
Breaking Free from Suppression
Modern society suppresses our natural expressions in ways we don’t even notice. As children, we were told “sit still, don’t fidget, stop crying, quiet down, don’t rock your legs, don’t twirl your hair, don’t make noise.” And if we didn’t comply, they labeled us—ADHD, hyperactive, emotional, too much.
But what if these impulses—the sighing, shaking, crying, moving—are not “wrong” but deeply human? What if they are natural releases of energy, emotions, and life force trying to flow?
Instead, we were pushed through an educational system designed not to nurture our uniqueness, but to mold us into small parts of a massive mechanical organism. A system that demands obedience, productivity, and “fitting in” over authenticity.
It takes years—sometimes a lifetime—to unlearn these constraints, heal the wounds, and remember our wild, unstructured selves.
For me, creative expression has become an act of rebellion, of liberation, of festiveness. It’s a way of reclaiming what was silenced and forgotten. It’s about being real humans again—not just quiet, efficient, predictable cogs in the machine. Its our right to live fully, and we are the only ones who can grant this freedom to ourself.
WHEN YOU FEEL COMFORTABLE WITH YOUSELF, EVERYONE FEELS COMFORTABLE WITH YOU
A Simple, Spontaneous Afternoon
The photos in this post weren’t planned. They were taken yesterday during a spontaneous trip with friends to a beach on the Aegean side—a place that feels like traveling to another island.
We didn’t pack much. No food, no fancy plans. Just a small speaker, four people of different ages (three guys and me), a young family with kids we met there, and my dog.
We swam, ran, danced, improvised handstands, played ball, laughed with strangers, felt the music, snapped photos, watched birds fly past the moonlit sky.
There was no numb “sit down, eat, drink, leave” script. Just living. Alive. Open. Heartful. Human.
This is what creative expression feels like to me. A way of being—unashamed, unguarded, connected.
It’s letting life move through you.
It’s loosening tight hips on the dance floor, laughing with your whole chest, following the tug of curiosity, playing like a kid.
It’s the wild, joyful art of simply being here.
ALL PHOTOS BY VAGGELIS FAFOUTIS
