Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: MONDAY, June 12, 1995 TAG: 9506130003
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: EXTRA EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: STACY JONES STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
It has taken decades for Muse to come to terms with her mother's passing, as well as the manner in which she was treated.
``I really resented that, because I felt I would have been able to deal with it,'' said Muse, who is now 43. ``But that was the time when people didn't talk to children about things like that.''
Things are changing, and Muse, a social work intern at Good Samaritan Hospice, is helping to lead the way.
For five weeks this month and next, Good Samaritan will hold art workshops to help teen-agers and pre-teens deal with loss and the grief that follows. The once-a-week sessions, open to anyone, begin today for children ages 5-10, while the workshop for kids 11-15 starts June 15.
Muse said a child's sense of loss may relate not only to death but to the divorce of his parents, a separation from friends or the loss of self-esteem.
``I feel like children are overlooked in the grieving process,'' said Muse, who is working on her master's degree in social work. ``It can be scary not knowing what's going on.
``Typically, when adults know a friend or co-worker has had a loss, they give that person a lot of [behavioral] leeway,'' Muse continued. ``Kids are not afforded that same response.''
Muse hopes the art projects will draw out pent-up emotions and allow the children to understand what they are feeling and deal with it. She said the aim is to teach kids that loss is a natural part of life, not punishment or some vague, unexplainable occurrence.
Russell T. Jones, an assistant professor in clinical psychology at Virginia Tech, put it another way.
``It's important to normalize the experience,'' he said, adding that kids need to know that everything they are experiencing is okay, that they are not the only ones that this has happened to.
Expressing emotions is essentially what the workshops are all about. Muse is a firm believer in the power of art to heal, particularly in children.
``Kids are not verbal, especially younger ones,'' she said. ``They are more in-tune with the tactile, pre-verbal world.''
Which, she explained, is why art therapy works. ``Creation is one of the most powerful tools we have,'' she said.
An artist herself, Muse has painted or helped paint murals on the sides of a number of Roanoke Valley buildings including the Downtown Learning Center.
It was her art session in the pediatrics ward at Community Hospital last week that lifted 5-year-old Ashley Anders out of an afternoon funk. Ashley has been in and out of hospitals since being diagnosed with leukemia in December.
Spotting Muse in the children's play area, she strode toward her in nubby pink slippers, a pink flowers-and-lace nightgown, a surgical mask and huge, mournful brown eyes. She sat at the drawing table, mute and listless, half-listening as Muse tried to ignite some interest.
Then the construction paper came out of the cupboards. Stacks of blue, yellow, green and purple filled the table.
``That's my favorite color,'' Ashley said when she spotted the purple package.
Soon she took pencil in hand and decided she wanted to create. She drew the outline of a dress, asked for scissors and began to cut.
``I think you're a really good cutter,'' said Muse.
``My brother doesn't even know how to cut,'' said Ashley, her gold teddy bear bracelet swaying with each snip. ``He's going to be here later.''
Throughout the 90-minute encounter, Ashley picked up speed. The stretch of her surgical mask hinted at a smile beneath. Her desire to make more than one painting signaled that she had temporarily forgotten about being sick.
``I'm astounded at her energy,'' Muse said.
When Ashley's mother returned from an errand, she too was surprised by the metamorphosis.
``She looks so different since I left,'' Stephanie Anders said.
``It's wonderful,'' she said of the art therapy. ``She can think of the colors she wants to use, the shapes, instead of thinking `I'm sick.' ''
``I wish they had this more than once a week,'' said Anders. ``Because when Ashley is doing her art work, she's happy.''
Moments later, feeling good and feisty, Ashley yelled out, ``Mommy, get in here!'' Twice.
With her mom obediently at her side, Ashley gave her a present - a yellow and blue house with green windows.
``This is my pride and joy,'' said Anders, stroking Ashley's head.
``Oh, Ma,'' said Ashley, mustering up all the indignation she could.
Although reactions like Ashley's may not be commonplace, they are hardly rare. And it's not just the glue, crayons and pastel paper that prompt such responses.
``It's not so much the art itself,'' said Jones, who specializes in children and trauma. ``It's just another form of expression available to the child.''
While Jones doesn't think art therapy ``in and of itself necessarily lessens grief or anxiety,'' he does agree with Muse that ``it hastens the healing.''
``Children can't always verbalize that they are confused and don't understand,'' he said. ``I've found this therapy to be very helpful'' in bridging that gap.
by CNB