reality

suede 23

mandalas have a sort of rule: 

you start in the middle and go around, adding, and making it grow - that satifies and centers me. it gives me the freedom to make the same details over and over and around, leaving me to just come up with colors and a way to finish it off. it's like following the lines of a street. i stick to the edge, working one layer at a time. it gives me a way to channel my obsessive need to control. i like to make off-center mandalas like this, to allow a peak at the surrounding atmospheres....

suede 22 and 20

paisleys give me very small areas to fill. boundaries are all important in my drawings: outlines and limits. i believe this need is a fight against my brain trying to control me. i turn on it and try to show i'm stronger. :)

suede 18

i have loved sugar skulls since the first time i saw them, and think that drawing them has even made me fear death a little less. (well, that and my newfound freedom from religion, which partially came about as a rebirth of my love and adoration for science). funny thing, though, i thought i would be more grounded in reality...turns out my mind doesn't play well with reality....

 

emotional void - depression at its best

emotionally flatlined. that's how my drugs make me feel. for the sake of clarification, i am taking effexor and geodon, with a side of ambien to sleep. all generic. i am now of "normal" affect, and reasonably sane. the racing, repetitive thoughts and bipolar mood swings are subdued. i don't know how to be "normal". i'm not unappreciative, but i really feel hollow and absent.

the most frustrating issue i have right now is that my creativity is also absent. i sit to draw and stare at my journal. it's almost tedious to make lines. this is what i count on and thrive on. it's all but gone. then i have these depression jags that are unbearable. i have had two in the last month. for about 3 days i weep uncontrollably and become suicidal. i can't eat or sleep. unless i take lots of ambien, then i can comatose myself for 18 hours....

reading this back to myself i can't help feeling guilty. obviously, anyone on the "outside" would say "hey, your biggest issue is that now you can function as a parent...as a wife! shut it and go live!"

i have no answer for that.

i imagine it's kind of like being completely paralyzed, and having to learn everything all over, from the beginning. who the hell am i? what am i supposed to do with all that space in my brain? a joyous time, right? a time when i can reinvent myself for the better! a time to celebrate and enjoy just having the chance to feel ok!

most people strive to be happy....and to become happier. i strive to protect myself. i know that all at once it will all shatter and a deeply stabbing depression will overtake me, making me immobile. and yes, i will get through it, hopefully, because i have kids who need me. but at some point, as it has been for 27 years, the meds will quit, and i will be back to my worst self- the one who cannot function and the one who has to start all over. going through a med transition is serious torture. physical illness, mind-wrenching thought processes and exhaustion tear me down for weeks, 2 months this last time....

that said, i know there are people, even in my own family, who doubt the instability of my illness. everyone wants to believe that i take medicine, i'm better, or i get off the meds, i'll be fine...my best friend- who lives across the world- says we americans see happiness as a right, and become bent if we aren't happy on any consistent level. i see that. and i feel like being on prozac or any other anti-depressant has become almost "cool" in some circles. perhaps it's a way to feel less alone, or maybe we just like the excuse. either way, i'm not on that road. i don't even think i have the ability to be happy anymore. in fact, i truly believe i will be just content to not feel hopeless and sad. if you are one of thousands who think that i talk myself into falling over and over again, i hope you never feel this reality. and the most positive attitude in the world cannot fend it off.

what it comes down to is that i take meds to not have severe anger and depression issues, and they do not work consistently. having been on 29 different medications, i know the routine. up to 2 months transition ... feel ok for 9-24 months at best ... crash ... transition....all the while protecting myself from the next hill and it's delicacy. i don't want pity, i just want understanding and perhaps support here and there. i want to share what i experience so others can better understand their loved ones or even help themselves through art. :)

drawing: journal page 11

anti-social

i just want to be alone. by myself. the only people who ask me to come around are my immediate family (well, besides my kids and husband). i can't stand the thought of all the layers of formalities when getting together with others. the surface excited-to-see-you top layer, accompanied by kisses and hugs...the next few layers of how long it's been (months, days, hours, minutes) since we last saw each other.....the awkward pauses in between how excrutiatingly busy everyone's life is but mine....

what does it do? i mean,  what does this meeting of individuals do for you? for me, it gives me stress. from the minute i realize there is a holiday or birthday on the way, to at least 24 hours afterwards, i am stressed. what do i talk about? how do i present myself as a happy, well-adjusted mom and wife? how do i stay interested in everything without input overload? every single time i have to put myself out there, give a good impression, make it look like i'm all ok, so all involved are satisfied, and then i can go.

other people have different approaches. some get extremely agitated and look like a wound top when they appear, others fake a huge smile and laugh and act all in control of a hugely chaotic life, others are obviously barely making it through the ordeal. i have grown to detest the fake layers. but i also don't want to talk about my problems or anyone else's. there is no "happy" medium. i don't feel any better after spending time with people. i feel worse. i don't feel a loving support system, i feel nothing but stress. i don't like taking up other peoples' time and space and caring energy, i just want to run.

but i have to consider my kids. yes, i know. i am an example for them. i am supposed to be sharing this family time and showing them how to have relationships and how to be sociable people. i can't. i don't know how. nor do i care to learn myself. my kids seem to have a grasp of others and how to interact. they both have a good intuition and sense about others. i want them to continue learning for themselves, my input is only confusing and depressing.

so you ask me, why would i ever even consider leaving my family, my kids, going away and letting them fend for themselves. stupid question. if you are in a toxic relationship, your goal should be to get out. i am responsible for putting the best examples forward for my kids to be guided by, and i'm not a good example. repair or remove the source of toxicity. seems so simple and effective, yet feelings come in and complicate everyfuckingthing. every day i wonder how i got this far....

process and focus

this is page 41. the only page i drew horizontally. it really bothers me that i chose this direction, having the binding on the bottom, but it worked out cool. :) layering, as i have previously pointed out, helps organize my thought process. it forces me to go one strip at a time, therefore i focus. it also looks all neat and tidy, making me calm. funny, my method of organization is to make piles all over my house. gives the fake illusion that i have it all together ;)

even the way i complete a drawing takes my concentration away from my encumbering thought racing. first i create the outlines of the entire drawing, then color in basic broad areas, then detail it to death. it's how most artists work, i assume, but i am breaking it down to show how each step is a way to hone your attention and take it away from other less appealing streams of mental discussion.

 

 below, page 42, is incomplete. i just didn't know what to showcase. decision-making is exhausting to me. if i can't come up with a concrete answer immediately, i usually give up. if i do, then i almost always go over and over it, pros and cons, is there something better...ugh. what a waste of life.

psychadelia & a little chaos

this page (22, above) is one of my favorites from my black journal. i really love 70's design and this is a tribute to the freedom of psychadelia...it made me happy the whole time i drew it, but i was also more nervous about screwing it up the whole time too. would have also liked more 70's coloration, which would have meant pencil, but i still enjoy the outcome. 

 pages 23, 24 and 25

page 25, is more of an attempt to order chaos, in that it has several ideas and layers that come together as a small world. the strangeness factor is more me than other pages, having the pieces all there in front of me at once with minimal rhyme and reason and no priority.

on to journal # 2

 
These are the first pages of my new journal! 
i'll be referring to it as the tan suede journal because of the faux cover :)   this empty book was begun a lot more easily than the first because i'm rolling on the confidence i collected finishing that one to the last page.

(page 1 & 2 above, 4 & 3 below)

for the first time in a very long time i went to michaels with an exact list: one new journal. and it had a purpose - not just to fill my need to get something at a good price so i could keep it in case i let myself use it in the future...but to be the second volume of my -eh, i'll say it -my subconscious. not one of my pictures has a plan. each comes to life line by line as i draw it in pen, no drafts. funny thing- because i have a severely difficult time making decisions of any kind from day to day  (even choosing which of my old, ratty t-shirts will clothe me). so for me to sit and have no idea what will become of the blank page in front of me is one of the only challenges i can face every day. i may think "mandala", but i have no idea past that.

i did a page similar to this one (page 5) - a cross-section of landscape, in my black spiral journal ( here it is ). it has been more popular than others and i so loved doing it i tried again, so this would be an exception to my "no plan" process. i love the subject matter - nature, trees, dirt, rocks and soil so much i could do this page over and over. i can't say that about any of my other pages before i start them. i can shoot for a general "biological specimen" subject, but that's about it. otherwise i'd have to deal with a commitment - forget that!

page 6

so besides knowing i want - in fact NEED to draw, the process of me sitting in front of a blank page has gotten less scary. i have finally come to the point that i only have the goal to draw, which makes me relax and in a small way block out the crap in my head the only way i can...by drawing detailed and repetitive patterns.

draw your dream out...

speaking of dreams, i had one the other night that is just one of the strangest ever for me...i'll share so you can get an idea of what my brain does with me.

i was in a large school, and my son was there in kindergarten. there had been wolf sightings around the area, so some very large burly guys with bloody aprons took care of the problem by killing off the wolf pack. they became a slight bloodthirsty, i guess, because in a large room next to my son's kindergarten class, there were high piles of dead animals, stretched long and laid on top of each other like a wall.

i was really angry, obviously, about all the dead animals and also because it was right next to the classroom, and kids could be so traumatized by all of it, so i went into the room to have at whoever was in charge. when i entered the room i saw that there were not only lots of wolves, but also monkeys, bears, baboons, and other wild animals, all killed by gunshot or head smashing. there was even a water buffalo---whose head moved as i spotted him. he lumbered onto his feet and ran out of the room and down the hall. all of the other "dead" animals remained still, but all of their eyes turned to the buffalo and watched him escape...and a baboon on one of the piles collected himself, gunshot in his head, and darted out of the room screeching- i could hear kids screaming all up and down the halls...

so. there it is. a slice of my dreamtime....not every night is that dramatic, but even with less crazy dreams, my head is still on overtime, and i wake exhausted. i have told this dream story 3 times now, and i think it's fading. i was close to drawing it when i thought it might not leave my head, but i'm giving it another day or 2 to wear out on its own. in the past, i have drawn very rough sketches of bad dreams and such, and they seriously disappear. not from my memory, but from the place in my head where they matter. art is good...absolutely necessary for me and so very good ;)

ACEOs -ART CARD ORIGINALS