This is one very early drawing. I was really into swirls and thorny vines.
This is the first week in a few where the morning sadness sends me out the door to work in tears. Heading down the driveway with fear and dread as if I’m about to go and face my death. ‘How am I going to get through this?’ in mind.
I’m okay though. Giving in to it. Some things…most things I cannot change and have to hope luck, the right people and the right time comes around. I’ll never know what I really want, but it gets easier when you stop trying to fit where you were never meant to be.
I have vacation days coming up in September. Four days on a Washington D.C tour with relatives and then an extra day to recoup. August has been one bad dream with no real days of rest (I’ve had to work on into my weekends.) Hopefully the rest of the year will ease up…Hopefully I won’t still be working here come next year.
I have recently finished a book called How Psychotherapy Really Works and truly found it helpful in understanding my experience with it the past four years. How unique the patient/therapist relationship really is and how it made an impact even without my realizing. I also wanted to understand better the grief I was struck with when I knew I’d have to say goodbye. The fear of what exactly I’d be without. But I basically came away with it clear that my previous therapist only helped me help myself in the end. May seem obvious to the outsider, but when you’re in a place of desperation, saving myself meant total death and it’s taken a very long time to replace the strength of that idea to my strength to create alternative choices and to be more resilient when things go wrong. I’m still learning, always trying to “figure out” what is not solvable, but at least the search is something. It’s action where otherwise I’d have long given up as nothing it would change.
I look forward to sharing some new art I’ve completed. And a lot of music I haven’t quite gotten arranged yet, but on the way. This photo was taken today when I got home. As little an influence I feel I am to this world, I’m not the only one struggling to belong. I support the efforts of TWLOHA in spreading awareness of mental illness and helping people who seek treatment. We’ve got to help one another somehow and one day I might be able to do more than small donations, but for now I’m sure anything helps. That’s what I hope and will hang onto.
I must truly care,
Otherwise why worry?
How so easily I’ve been to scare…
I am sorry I lose hope the way I do –
Sorry and sick I have not brightened
The way you’ve told me to.
The way you just sink into your dreams,
When a heart truly wants
All that it needs…
Day used to feel differently, back when
The shade of fall leaves lifted by the breeze
Always found a place for me.
I’m still here waiting to be taken up;
Coping with my existence
Where no matter whom I’m with
I am all the more alone.
One of a handful of poems referring in part to my therapist along with anyone else I feel accountable to in someway.
Things are complicated in my head right now but I’m hanging in there.
Flowers I painted for my mother recently. Finger painted background.
The last week has been one of the craziest (well, I’ve just felt the craziest).
I ended up applying for a part time, back of house retail job yesterday afternoon and was called for an interview that night. I scheduled it for this morning and I was actually hired on the spot after the interview.
I was on the edge Thursday from so much stress – my failure with the watercolor class (cutting a bad story short, I won’t be back) going almost another week without one phone call regarding any of my applications or interviews- and feeling painfully isolated. Yet now I have something to hold onto right when I needed it…I’m probably being foolish but with happenings like this it makes me wonder if I’m not being kept around, kept alive, for some hidden reason. I’m truly grateful, but I feel like I don’t deserve any of this to be– when things actually work out in my favor, you know?
The manager said she liked me. She noted how I dressed for my interview, brought a resume, was well spoken, seemed driven (and I never lied once while I spoke)…I’ve never been told things like that in an interview and was shocked she said she wanted to go on and hire me. I’m still processing the whole thing and I apologize for being all over the place, but I feel some hope again. I feel safe to keep a bit of faith that I might just be alright for a while.
I really do want that.
I am right handed and this is a crayon drawing done completely with my left hand. One of those random things on my list of little art challenges. I didn’t know what subject to draw so an eye is my usual default.
Below are photos of the first few, poor pages of the art journal project I mentioned having started. I write at least one decent thing in it everyday while also constructing/designing each page. I meant to bring it to therapy with me today, but didn’t think it was at the point of being presentable enough for me to share with my doctor yet.
First two pages…
Clips of page three and four inverted…
Yes, my first entries are cheesy and I feel embarrassed after these last few weeks from what’s now being written, but I had to make a start somehow and this is it. I cut out words from a magazine and used them to make up my own lines- things I hope will help me keep myself alive and out of harms way when I fall into very low moods. It may not work, but for now just having something constructive like this to fill some hours with is just enough.
I hope to have a new song or two to share sometime this weekend.
This is a mixed media piece. There’s newspaper shreds, mirror shards, more paper and layers of paint.
Hits Against Glass
By Sunday I am sick enough
To never need another one.
How to carry over
With usefulness out done?
When tearing is laid to rest as torn?
I am chips of a worn plate
With the cracks of too many
Knives and blades.
We break until we break and
Must always take the pain
A little further past the
Limits of our shame.
The poem here is one of several I wrote as I worked through some of the most difficult days at my last job. I’m making an effort to stay with a more positive outlook by planning new projects that challenge me to be constructive. I recently finished binding a journal and decorating it with the intention of filling it with pages dedicated to good things (quotes, images, poem lines, positive experiences/contributions I make to impact others). So far I’ve been hesitant to write anything just because, as with anything I haven’t done before, I fear messing up an attempt rather than never having tried. But that’s a challenge to break past too and I will.
I’m still jobless and further set back from being able to stand on my own, but I’m trying to change what I can while I still have the mind to.