This is my fourth paint along with Bob Ross. So far they’ve all been fun and shown me that I’m capable of more than I thought while also being rather challenging! I’m doing these on smaller canvas to give myself more leeway to be imperfect and leave out small details.
I’m still working on my happy little trees. I finally caved and got some paint thinner and actual palate knives (I was using cut outs from a plastic juice jug before. Not kidding.)
There are still a few tools I’ll need if I keep this up. Currently I’m using a mix of acrylic, oil, and… fabric paint? Just whatever I have on hand. We’ll see what I decide to treat myself with before the next painting!!
And a few words from the master himself:
And apparently I can drop youtube videos directly into wordpress so that’s nifty! Here’s the video if you want to feel a little inspired.
I took a long break from making art after I published my book in 2015.
I finished the sketchbook I had and then left its replacement untouched for months.
I remember opening the book up for the first time, and banishing the blankness from its pages. Well, from the first page. It was another six months before I opened it again. In this fashion I slowly worked, adding strange things into my works. Cat hair held down with scotch tape. Actual acrylic paint. Whatever the hell this was:
No, I’m not scanning this monstrosity, you can have a shitty phone picture.
During this time my art became unpredictable, angst-ridden, and confusing.
It’s been just over three years since that initial sketch, and I’m still discovering what went wrong, how I burned out. I’m 19 pages into that same sketchbook.
I knew I needed to stop selling art because it was becoming so much more about other people, what did they want to see? Did they like it? Were they willing to pay for it?
Some of my characters were very popular, yet some of the dearest to me were completely overlooked. The silence that met these characters felt like a rejection of a part of me.
I needed to separate myself from my art and other people’s views of it from my self-worth. I am more than the reception my art receives.
I was once a very talented musician, and the thing about being a performer is the music already exists, you just have to learn to play it. You can alter things, and express things differently, but the framework is there.
In music, you learn works by the masters, play them beautifully, record them (maybe you need to get some legal permissions if the pieces are not very old or in public domain), and you sell that, or people pay you to perform. It’s not easy, by any means. But it is rather straight forward.
That’s… Not how visual art works.
At least in my experience, you don’t want to sell art that’s all copies of great artists. Some people make it work, but it’s not the standard by far.
Furthermore my skills and understanding of myself as an artist come nowhere near what I had created as a bassoonist.
So it’s difficult not to want validation. It’s difficult to make art just for myself.
Yet I still want to make art.
So, I do make it, I keep making it, and I will continue to do so.
I’ll try to separate my self-worth from what other people think (or don’t think) about the pieces I make.
When I started this blog in 2010 I wrote a post about becoming the person you want to be, and taking the steps you need to get there. I decided to go back to that to see how much it still applies:
I can change. I have changed. I can stand my ground. I can be strong, and I can be happy. I can overcome my fears and my doubts. I can push the limits of what I think I can and cannot do. I can find out that slow persistence is still progress.
So here’s to slow persistence, here’s to overcoming, and here’s to doing things even if they scare us, and even if it takes three years to get rolling again.
Thank you for reading. Let me know below, what do you struggle with and need validation for?
I have been trying to find peace in my mind and community since first learning of the attack in Orlando this weekend.
I can’t.
I am more than 1,000 miles away and yet I still have the same thought every time I read or hear about it or remember it. It could have been me. Or it could have been you. Or even worse, it was those forty-nine people.Forget what could happen. Look at what has happened. This happened. Forty-nine families lost a loved one this week. Countless mothers, sisters, brothers, friends, lovers, classmates and coworkers have cried themselves to sleep this week, alone. Missing their best friends, their children, their siblings by blood or by love.
There is no peace to be found in this.
Words of many a loved one echo in my mind “well I wouldn’t discriminate/hate/hurt anyone but…” Well, you wouldn’t, but he did. And others have. And more people will. Your words and actions influence the people around you, who influence the people around them. It doesn’t take long before we all find ourselves in some way linked to Pulse. In what way are you connected? Have your words and actions encouraged people that can do, will do, and have done things that you would never do?
How many times have you said:
“I’m not homophobic but…”
“I wouldn’t discriminate, I just think…”
“It’s not that I hate transgender people…”
“Well I can understand someone who passes using the bathroom, however…”
“Did you know that (name)Â is….?”
Have you read their names? Have you seen their pictures? Here, take a moment:
This shooting is a multidimensional issue. We have to realize this wasn’t just an attack on upperclass, white, male, cis, gay Americans. This attack happened on Latin night. It was an attack on Latinx people, people of color, black people, white people, gender nonconforming people, women (which includes transwomen), gay people, lesbians, bisexual people, transgender people, young and old alike.
“Black people should just…”
“All lives matter”
“Well, it wasn’t an assault rifle…”
“Technically it’s like this…”
“Mexicans are/should…”
I’ve seen a message circulating that says “You weren’t the gunman, but you use slurs against gay people. You weren’t the gunman, but you’re the culture that built him. You were the bullets in his gun.”A lot of people want to instantly jump to technicalities, to any conclusion they can to avoid facing the truth that our culture encourages violence against people of non-conforming sexuality or gender and people of color. You will tell me “It wasn’t homophobia, it was Islam!” (or what you believe Islam to be) He isn’t “one of us”, he’s a terrorist. He’s mentally ill, he pledged to ISIS, I would never do something like this,
“I’m not encouraging violence I just think…”
Yes, this is a multidimensional issue. I get it, the president himself said “This is an act of terror and an act of hate.”
AND AN ACT OF HATE
Just because we can point a finger at part of the shooter’s motivations doesn’t mean we are absolved of all responsibility. It doesn’t mean we can turn our blinders back on and carry on with our unexamined lives. This isn’t about being “politically correct” and not “offending people”. Those forty-nine people are not offended.
They’re dead.
They’re dead because WE allowed legislation that discriminates against people who need to use restrooms. They’re dead because we allowed the fight for gay marriage to be dragged out until 2015 (almost exactly a year ago). They’re dead because we allow people to say a trans woman is “Technically a man”, because we allow others to say gay people shouldn’t “flaunt it in our faces”, because we turn a blind eye on people who are not like us in sexuality, gender identity, or relationship structure.
These people are dead because we let it happen. We failed, America. Stonewall was almost 50 years ago. Many people reading this had not even been born yet. You’ve had your entire life to educate yourself on the spectrum of gender and sexuality. If you were already born, you’ve had half a century to ask yourself why we’re “offended” by the words that dig our graves. You say “don’t take it so seriously.”
Tell that to the mother whose son sent her pleas for safety and love just before he was killed in the bathroom of Pulse on Sunday morning.
“Don’t take it so seriously.”
He’s only dead.
I wonder how many times the gunman said or heard homophobic and transphobic slurs. How many times the people around him turned a blind eye, or worse agreed. They wouldn’t go shoot up a bar full of people. But he did. And all those people that said “Well, I would never let someone hurt you, it’s just that…” have sobbed uncontrollably, have vomited from the intensity of their grief, have called their loved ones’ phones over and over and over again.
“I would never let someone hurt you.”
You won’t always be there.
I’ve made these mistakes. I think we all have. If you feel bad, or offended, or defensive after reading the above, take some time to forgive the situation, rise above the need to protect your sense of dignity. We know you don’t mean harm. We know you had no idea. Take a breath. Switch the tab. Come back in a bit.
“I love you no matter what, and I want to know how to respect you.”
“Thank you for telling me. How can I support you?”
“I have some questions, I looked online and I think I understand, but can you help me be certain?”
“He mentioned to all of us that he prefers to be called Simon.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“You can pee next to me!”
“Your identity is valid. I believe you.”
“Who you are on the inside is who you are. Period.”
“What pronouns do you use?”
“How would you like me to refer to your companion tonight?”
“It’s not my place to reveal someone’s trans or romantic status.”
“You are who you say you are.”
“Your life matters to me.”
“I’ve learned a lot about violence against people of non-conforming sexuality or gender and suicide rates. How can I be there for you on these topics?”
“I’m appalled at the rate that trans women of color are murdered and experience violence.”
“I heard about the shooting. Are you okay?”
“Would you like to get coffee and talk about it?”
It’s too late for those of our family that we lost in Orlando this weekend. Nothing will bring them back. But it’s not too late for me, or for our friends and family who are gender or sexually non-conforming. Love isn’t enough. Your words matter. Your actions matter. Every time you participate in conversation (whether you’re the speaker or the listener) you have the opportunity to turn the conversation towards sense. Towards safety. Towards peace.
We need you. We need everyone. Let’s make this change together.
So, most of you that follow my progress with depression, anxiety and panic treatment know that I recently had the longest streak of stability ever in my life in 2015. It was really a fantastic five months and gave me a lot of hope that I could have normal ups and downs and at the end of the day (or week) feel like I was going to make it through life.
A picture I took of myself enjoying the snow we got around thanksgiving.
At the tail end of that time, I wrote a list of all the things I was doing that were helping (and things I wasn’t doing). Since the depression has been back for a little over a month now, I wanted to make a similar list of what I’m doing to cope with these changes.
I’m staying active. I have a job that keeps me on my feet, and hubby and I make a serious effort to get the the gym on one day per week (we usually aim for Thursday). I can do whatever I want, so long as I’m on a machine (or combined time on multiple machines) for 30 mins. Then we go home and eat whatever we want ^_^ My goal isn’t to lose weight, it’s just to keep my blood flowing.
I’m trying very hard to take my medicine on time each day. I’ve set myself reminders. This is still a challenging area for me, especially since the past two days I haven’t been able to take it at all because of nausea!
Speaking of nausea – GINGER. And WATER. Those two things have been a lifesaver for me!
I’m trying to remember my friends and contact them to see how they are and let them know I need them. I really struggle with this one, since depression can make me flat out forget who my friends are. I will often feel like my best friend of 15 years doesn’t even want to hear from me!
I’m learning to communicate EXACTLY what I need from my husband. He is a great support for me during times good and bad, and even he gets fatigued from care taking. It’s easier for him to communicate what he can and can’t do if I tell him what I need.
I’m staying in contact with my therapist, and being honest with her (and with Shawn) about exactly how the depression feels, including the hard stuff like suicidal ideation, doubts about my medication, and unhealthy coping methods.
I write about how I feel, and allow myself to pursue options that I think might solve some of the disappointments I feel. I try not to do this too much, because I know that many of these things are only “disappointing” because I’m depressed and looking at them from a negative light, but it helps me feel better to think I could make certain changes if I needed to.
I cut myself some slack. I still pursue my goals, but I don’t jam-pack my days with responsibilities, with one exception.
I work. A lot. Now this is challenging for certain people. I’m extremely lucky (and I have worked very hard to get to this place too) to work in environments where I’m respected as a human being, paid well, and enjoy what I do. It has taken me almost a decade to finally find work like this. Similarly, this is not a good situation for someone who is suffering fro situational depression such as those caused by grief, abuse, poor health, loneliness, and many other things. Throwing yourself into work will not solve these problems. For someone who has chemical depression (or even seasonal depression), it’s often literally just a matter of waiting until it passes. So for me, working keeps me busy and helps me keep from ruminating.
I try to be mindful of how I feel and what my body needs. I’m also willing to try (just about) anything. So I increase my probiotics, I take vitamin D, I use a seasonal depression lamp, I keep track of my sleep to look for unhealthy patterns, I make sure to eat lots of fruits and vegetables and I stay hydrated (even if it’s often coffee, tea or energy drinks. See below!)
Alright, so those are 10 things that I’m doing to cope. Here are 10 things I’m really struggling with:
My depression almost always begins to manifest as a dissatisfaction with the progress I’ve made in life. I often find myself lamenting a lack of career focus, long term goals, and overall life “purpose” (whatever it means to live life with purpose).
I struggle to drink enough water. I am usually drinking caffeine first thing in the morning, and don’t really focus on the water until I’m fully awake.
As I mentioned above, I struggle to remember who my friends are and reach out to them.
I sleep A LOT, even when I’m not depressed, but especially a lot when I am. This is problematic when I need to be to work early in the morning or just generally get things done.
Taking my medicine on time, every day. It’s especially difficult when I’m nauseous either from anxiety or from the bugs that go around this time of year.
Meditation. I love to meditate but find it very hard to do when I’m depressed and anxious. I often end up dwelling on negative experiences instead. Something that helps with this is listening to guided meditations on youtube.
Keeping ANYTHING clean and orderly, including important things that I have to get done. WHY are taxes due in the early spring?!? What a terrible time for me :( I’ve also been known on multiple occasions to eat cereal out of a tupperware container because it’s been that long since I washed dishes. Similarly, I’ve been meaning to write this blog post for well over a week.
Speaking of which, I struggle to ask for help when I need it. I know all too well the pressures my husband faces with work and school, and he often pulls his own weight with household chores as it is. It’s very difficult to ask him to help out with tasks that are usually my responsibility, and because I struggle to remember who my friends are and don’t even want to burden them with how I’m feeling I also struggle to imagine that anyone in their right mind would want to help me clean or run errands with me.
Not looking like a freaking jerk anytime I go out. To all the people who I’ve given the stinkeye to in  grocery stores, or at the post office, I swear it wasn’t you. That’s just my face right now. I hope you’ll understand and at least not have your feelings hurt.
Getting outside enough. It’s really challenging for me to face the cold, even when I have plenty of warm clothes and two cars with working heat. But really, getting outside, going for walks and taking in what sunshine I can through all my layers is still very important and healthy.
So, it’s not a very eloquent or well planned out post, because I have very little focus right now. But we’ll see how long this depressive episode lasts. I have hope that I might feel better come early summer. We will see! Thank you for reading and if you have any suggestions I’m open to them!
I recently hit a really big milestone in my life.
It has been more than four months since my last major depressive episode.
That has never, I repeat, never ever happened to me.
In fact it’s so rare that instead of tracking my “depressive episodes” I track my “okay episodes”. Which is time spent between my “normal” depressed states.
Normally, an “okay episode” lasts a week or two. Rarely it can last as much as a month, and three times in my life has it lasted more than a month, none of which were before I became an adult. The first was 2007 when I started college. That lasted 3 months. The second was the summer of 2012, and the third spring of 2013, each lasting a month or two.
So I am in completely uncharted territory with my mental health right now. I never expected this would be possible. After all, if you were to spend 26 years in a state of turmoil more than 75% of the time, what would you believe? That there was hope over the horizon? Or that hope was a silly thing people made up to help children deal with the harsh realities of life, and real adults knew better than to hope for a happier future?
Well the past four months have restored that hope for me. The hope that I can be okay for long stretches of time, the hope that I can be in touch with the parts of myself that love, create, work hard, and feel accomplished. The hope that I will continue to develop the will to live, and to live fully. The hope that when my depression does return (more on that later), I will be able to weather the storm with acceptance and compassion for myself. The hope that when I do experience hard times, I can remember that it’s not always like this. Not all the time, not forever.
I have become very in tune with a life of “this too shall pass”.
Even the good stuff.
Even the bad stuff.
Looking back on how I feel when I’m depressed I know that if I was reading this article by this point I’d have done one of two things
Told myself “yeah congrats to that person, but it’s just not going to work out that way for me” and closed the tab.
Screamed at the screen BUT HOW!?! And scrolled down to see if there’s a bulleted list somewhere of things I can try.
The Journey 