For Survivors & Communities
You don't have to
carry this alone.
Whether you're navigating your own grief or supporting a community in crisis, there's a place for you here. No pressure. No timeline. Just space to breathe and create alongside people who understand.
If You're Carrying Something Heavy
Maybe it was a shooting, a fire, a flood, a loss that changed everything. Maybe it happened last month or five years ago. Maybe you don't even have words for it yet.
You don't need words here. You don't need to explain what happened or share your story with anyone. You don't need to be "ready" or "healed enough" or anything else.
A Holding Frames gathering is a space where you can show up exactly as you are—and create something, if you want to, alongside others who understand what it's like to carry something heavy.
Everything is optional
Paint, draw, write—or just sit. Arrive late, leave early. Watch from the corner. It's all welcome. There's no wrong way to be here.
You don't have to talk
This isn't group therapy. No one will ask you to share your story. You can create in complete silence if that's what you need.
Support is present
Mental health professionals are there—not to run a session, but to hold the space. If you need someone to talk to, they're available. If you don't, that's fine too.
Your art goes somewhere
What you create becomes a message to another community in crisis. You're not just healing—you're helping someone else feel less alone.
What a Gathering Looks Like
You arrive
A familiar space—a community center, a school, a church. Tables with wooden frames, paint, brushes. Quiet music, maybe. People settling in.
You choose
Pick a frame. Pick a seat. Pick colors. Or don't pick anything—just be in the room. Every moment is an invitation, not a requirement.
You create
Paint a message for someone you'll never meet—another survivor, another community walking the same road. Something you wish someone had said to you.
You leave when you're ready
Sessions run 1–4 hours, but you don't have to stay. Take what you need. Leave when you need to. Come back if you want.
There's no agenda. No icebreakers. No circle where everyone shares. Just space to breathe, create, and be around people who get it.
"Your brain will play tricks on you. You'll feel like you lost control. Those feelings are normal. You are worthy of care and support. You need different healing tools—you never know when one will speak to your soul."
— Message from a Holding Frame
Bring This to Your Community
Maybe your town was hit by a tornado. Maybe your school experienced a loss. Maybe your congregation is supporting families affected by violence, or your workplace is navigating collective grief.
You're looking for ways to help people heal—without retraumatizing them, without requiring clinical expertise you don't have, without pretending everything is fine.
We partner with you to bring Holding Frames gatherings to your community.
What you provide
- A familiar, comfortable space (community center, school, church)
- Local knowledge—who's affected, what they need, cultural context
- Help getting the word out to survivors
- Volunteers who want to support (we'll train them)
What we provide
- The Holding Space Framework—our evidence-based approach
- All materials (frames, paint, brushes, supplies)
- Trained facilitators and mental health support
- Volunteer training in Psychological First Aid
- Logistics, setup, and follow-through
Timeline
We're not first responders. We show up when the acute phase has passed and the long work of recovery begins—Month 6, Month 12, Year 5. Healing doesn't follow a timeline, and neither do we. Reach out whenever your community is ready.
Communities We've Supported
We've partnered with organizations across the country to bring art-based healing to communities navigating mass violence, natural disasters, and collective loss.
Let's Talk
Whether you're a survivor looking for support, a community leader exploring options, or just curious about what we do—we'd love to hear from you. No pressure. No timeline.
You're not alone. You haven't been forgotten.
And your grief deserves space.