Wednesday, 23 February 2011
a gentle kind of cruelty...
i've been feeling.
i was reading.
my general day-to-day has been empty. i've no desire to do anything or see anyone. my depression has reached an ugly, hideous place that is not all too welcome. it's slumped me with the burden of pain, paranoia and discontent.
primarily, i move on auto-pilot. my actions are those that i know should be taking place, ones that make me look normal and sane and "okay." i do the laundry, cook, blog and smile wearing a mask that helps people to believe that i'm okay, just slightly sad. in this fantasy world i have created i am FINE. there's no problems to talk about and at the end of every day, i am FINE (a word that treatment trained me to associate almost nearly as a curse word purely because it is typically used by individuals only to placate any possible concerned passers-by. a word who's acronym tends to explain that the said "FINE" individual is actually one of four not actually FINE things: Fucked-up, Insecure, Neurotic or Emotional)
in reality, i hurt. god i hurt. but only on good days do i hurt, most days, i don't feel. i seem to have lost the ability to feel mostly anything. it's almost as though someone came and took everything out of me. my thoughts, hopes, dreams and desires. i just feel like an empty husk of nothing.
i went through all this same crappy-crap when i moved to england... no friends, no family, no job, nothing. i literally feel like i have nothing anymore. nothing to aspire to, nothing to push for, nothing to get excited about. alone and finding myself writing ideas for blogs but not actually finding the energy to sit down and write them.
the other night i was reading an article about an artist by the name of Ray Caesar in a magazine called Hi Fructose. there was one single piece of his art that took my breath away and in the middle of reading his words i had to stop because it hurt. his words touched me a little too hard in a place just far too sensitive for me to cope with. i have to admit that it felt nice to feel, but the feelings, they virtually murdered my tiny, fragile emotions. he discussed his psychological disorders, some of which i also have and he discussed the way that he feels when forced to deal with his past and emotions by way of creating art, which very boldly paralleled with myself and my writing.
and i relay his words...
"a disorder helps you through childhood but can cause great difficulty as an adult. i must say that making pictures is one thing that has helped me cope and brings all aspects of my personality into play.
making art is so difficult as well as healing and joyful that we/i need all of us in order to make it. the very act of making pictures for me is a form of compartmentalization that allows me to deal with overwhelming emotions and memories. i create a window into a peaceful world where the 'emotion' or the fragile part of me is protected... i make something gentle but also something that shows a dark side to it and strength. think of my pictures as a sanctuary where one can take out a small piece of pain and allow it to be free - a place to confront that pain and even care for it. a protected place of color and happiness much like a christmas morning for a child who is allowed to open the difficult gifts he or she has been given in life.
it's a double edged sword for me that my pictures are so public as there is a part of me that would rather deal with all this in privacy but my pictures are also who i am in so many ways that i have to wear my life on the walls of a gallery or in the internet...i suppose art for me is that process in which we bear our inner most feelings, trouble and pain; happiness and joy... it's an important form of communication and that is more important than my need for privacy.
(in discussing the above painting, "Revelation") the Sailor is my own kind of metaphor for a traveler or one that explores... she is in a fog; something i have been in for most of my adult life. the light is that sudden knowledge... that overwhelming piece of the pizzle that explains so much, that confrontation with the astonishment that takes you to a new level of understanding.
most astonishing about these periods of foggy missing time or periods of wasted time is that it felt as if some other thing had taken me over. a realization of having not one but several personalities so i could see and feel them when they appeared, usually in a moment of stress.
i am then more effectively able to use these diferent parts of myself and that to me is a "Revelation," like living in a fog for many years and suddenly finding you are more than the sum of your parts.
i think everyone has aspects of what we call "disorders." we all get depressed or manic or compulsive but some of us have such things magnified, sometimes to the power of 10 and others to the power of 100. i think we all have some parts of ourselves we know better than other parts of ourselves. all i do know is art is a great way to sail the seas of the subconscious mind and make a map of that strange world. my work is the map of my mind."
and now, i am here today, feeling raw and emotionless. reading his words helped me to at least find the direction that i need to be going in, but i have no idea how to get there. i have no idea how to turn the lights on and i'm mortified to do it alone.
i feel as though i've no choice though, seeing as my stupid emotions and mood swings have shunted everyone else out of my way, leaving me feeling like a child who's thrown a giant tantrum and was left alone to deal with it on their own as a means of self-soothing.
right now, i just want to be held. i am so terrified that all of my pieces are falling apart and i just want someone to hold me and make sure i don't lose myself.
last night i held Muffin and was terrified to let him go. i held him and he kept attempting to escape but i just pushed my face into his chest harder to stop him from leaving me and seeing my tears. i don't want to lose him, i don't want to lose myself. i am so terrified that he will see me as this broken thing and not want to wait around until i put myself back together again. i just want someone to hold me. make me feel okay. i don't want words, i don't want eye contact, just a cuddle.
eh. i don't know why i've posted this. consume it how you will.