"Depression" Isn't the Correct Term

I feel so jagged and shaken. Frightened, I can't catch my breath. I don't know which way to direct my gaze or which path to take. When I am depressed I can't move. My friends say, "Just break free and MOVE!" and... I'm so paralyzed. When I feel so trapped and stuck I just want to rip myself apart, but even then, I can't move. I hate so much in my life, but I swallow it - I don't want to hate. So I burn inside, instead. ...can't... I can't breathe... my vision fades in and out... my fingers are stiff and icy. I almost can't move even just to type. For long moments I stare blindly above the screen, incapable of existing - I forget to breathe, my heart nearly stops, then it pounds, and I feel more trapped.

The Price of Being an Artist

I hear people all the time say, "I wish I was an artist like you." but they really don't understand what it means to be an artist. They see the result, the art, and think having that skill is ONLY a bonus - an upgrade to "normal" life - a blessing from the Gods which magically wafted down to grace the bodies of the Chosen Ones. Here are some things that people who are not artists do not understand about life as an artist: 1. You will be asked for art ALL the time. This one is often a big "pet peeve" to artists, but not necessarily for reasons you think, and it's a bit different for every artist. As an artist, expect to be asked for art (constantly) by friends, family, everyone you date, teachers, fellow students, random children, random mothers of children, any stranger who sees you drawing, just about anyone who finds out you are an artist ever. The problem with this is that it feels very exploitative. It often feels as if the artist themselves are not valuable to others - except for the art they are willing to provide. There is an expectation to provide art to other people, MERELY because they want it. The more you are supposed to love someone, the more art you are EXPECTED to create FOR them - and usually without anything in return. This is NO different than any other ultimatum-type "requirement" that says, "If you love me, then you will..." - and it feels just as controlling as any other form of expectation put on love and friendship. I have even been called selfish, a bad friend, mean, lazy, self-centered, and accused of not loving or caring about others enough because I did not provide the artwork expected of me(without my consent). (Oh, does that mean non-artists aren't capable of as much love as artists because they don't provide art? Of course not.) To put this art-requesting into perspective, let me explain some of the artistic process: With a few rare exceptions, the better you are at art, the more time you have dedicated to it - and the more time you put into specific art pieces, the better and more intricate they become. To create a piece of art there can be a lot of emotions, imagination, thinking, intuition, and other subtle processes involved. There is a certain cost to supplies. And then there is the big cost of time. Non-artists are amazed at how quickly they see an artist produce a creation, stating nonsense like, "Wow, even if I worked on it for three months it wouldn't be half that good!" (I say this is nonsense, because they wouldn't even attempt that in the first place). But art DOES take a lot of time. When someone has an expectation of an artist to create an art piece for them, they are not only expecting that person to produce something meaningful and beautiful (which is a hefty expectation in and of itself - OUCH), but they are also expecting a lot of time to be dedicated to "prove" that they are loved by the artist - often without even realizing it. Should I say to you, "Hey, you love me, right? So that means you're going to do something to prove it to me that will take 5-20+ hours of your time and give it to me in the next week or so. Right?" Because that's what non-artists are saying to artists when they request art. AND they feel they have a RIGHT to do so and that the artist is obligated to provide it. And this is expected on a fairly regular basis - otherwise they must not love the non-artist enough. Now, what if the artist does agree to provide art? Then the artist is hounded CONSTANTLY for results. It becomes the only reason the non-artist checks in on you, the first question they ask (even before "how are you?"), the last thing they "jokingly" berate you on not accomplishing before they leave.... and heaven forbid you do ANY other art than their request before their request is finished and delivered. *shudder* The non-artist becomes offended, icy, angry, hurt, feels betrayed, feels like they are not loved enough, and feels a lot of negativity toward the artist (who is still expected to finish the piece). All of this weight is put on the artist as if the artist has done some terrible misdeed. Rude statements like, "Oh, I see how it is - you had time to do YOUR art, but didn't have time to work on mine!" may be said in a joking tone, but it always comes with a heavy undertone of blame and resentment. The guilt I feel as an artist for not meeting the expectations of those around me, and the fear of receiving these demands for expected free art that comes in a package of nagging and blame, plague me so strongly that I will go months without completing a single piece of my own artwork - because if I do, I feel like a bad person. If I do, I feel like I will be resented and harassed by people who I am supposed to love. 2. The crazy idea that art is too expensive. This is a big one. People see a piece of original artwork they admire on an 8x10" piece of paper, then they see a pricetag of $30 and think it is too expensive - when really, the artist is ripping themselves off on charging $30 for it. Why? Because a nice piece of artwork on an 8x10" probably took them anywhere from 4-12 hours. Let's do some math here, if they get $30 for the piece, and spent 4 hours to create it, the artist is being paid a mere $7.50 per hour for their trade (a trade that requires spending YEARS studying and developing their skill with a minority of the population even being born with that talent). At $30, if they spent 12 hours on that piece, they earned a wonderful $2.50 per hour. Great. So what is that piece of art really worth? Well, let's say that they only charge $10 per hour for it - right there, that is $40-120. Let's just stop with the math calculations, we all know that unless the artist is famous (and often even then) they aren't going to get that much for an 8-10" piece of art. Hooray for having a skill that won't even pay minimum wage. 3. Speaking of money, the next misconception non-artists have about artists is the expectation that the artist will become rich. My whole life I have been told that I will be rich because of my art. From early childhood I was brainwashed with this notion that being an artist equates to having your art sell at a high price. Not only is this typically not true (see above), but it isn't exactly good for a person's self-esteem when they are a broke 25 year old who hasn't lived up to everyone's expectations of glory and riches. Not only that, but this completely ignores a very important aspect of selling art - and that is, who is going to sell it? You see, artists' minds behave differently than non-artists, and while this is generally accepted when it comes to positive attributes, when the perceived attributes are considered negative, the artist is blamed and often thought of as being lazy, anti-social, and lacking a "do whatever it takes" mentality. Non-artists simply do not accept that artists brains often do not (and cannot) conceive how to run a business, advertise, sell, network, and promote their art - in the EXACT same way that non-artists do not (and cannot) conceive how an artist "just sees the art," "draws and it magically turns into something," gives their imaginings a physical form, and creates masterpieces. Yes, an artist CAN learn to do many of the technical business thingies (I am an artist afterall, so "thingies" is a technical term for me) that non-artists expect of them, but it is usually PAINFUL and unnatural. How about this for a change? If it’s so easy, YOU DO IT. The non-artist wants to benefit from the artist anyway, so why don’t they become a dedicated business partner and actually make a profit together? The artist will take care of the supply, the non-artist can take care of the demand. Seems simple right? WRONG. Because every time I’ve suggested it the non-artist doesn’t follow through. Meaning their criticisms are empty and running a business and promoting art is difficult for non-artists, too. Believe me, as an artist, I would loooooooooooove to be able to just do my art and have someone else take care of the managing and promoting aspects. Are you kidding me? I’d do it full-time. We’d both be rich (have you seen my art? It’s amazing). But, alas, non-artists are just as flaky as artists. So stop stereotyping us artists as being unreliable and flaky! 4. Depression. Have I ever met an artist who doesn’t have some form of depression or lack of self-esteem? Not yet. Oh, I’m sure they’re out there, but most likely that’s because they’ve worked through the depths of depression and have come out the other side. There’s something with the way our minds work, combined with our perceived failures and inadequacies, that creates a sense of disappointment and causes us to feel depressed. Praise from non-artists are only half-believed by the artist because the artist knows exactly in the art piece where they were unable to accomplish what they wanted; also, the artist knows that the art piece is monetarily worthless, especially compared to the hourly compensation they could expect from selling it. (You see, artists aren’t necessarily possessive of their art, they just think it’s stupid to receive inadequate pay for what they put into the piece) This monetary worthlessness translates into a feeling of, “my greatest talent and passion is worthless” which is a pretty depressing feeling. Not only that, but often non-artists respond to art in very negative ways even when they have very positive feelings about it, mostly because of their own feelings of jealousy. It’s difficult to have an admired skill that comes paired with statements like, “I hate you so much,” especially when you just gave that person an art-piece as a gift. It is confusing and depressing. I feel like I am a bad person because I create reactions of jealousy, insecurity, and low self-esteem in others. And the only thing I did wrong was to create amazing art. Why was Van Gogh my favorite artist as a kid? Because he was the only famous artist I knew of who I could identify with the level of depressed inner turmoil and feelings of insanity. Fun stuff. 5. You’ve already read me saying that artists spend years to develop their talent into a proficient skill, but let me lay it out for you a bit. I began drawing when I was about 1 year old – now that’s not impressive yet, but does an engineer begin developing their trade at that age? Usually not. Growing up, I spent more time drawing than I did doing any other activity – including studying and sleep (though the sleep part may be because I was plagued by terrible insomnia). As a child and early teen I would spend a minimum of 4-6 hours of drawing a day, often surpassing 8-12 hours. That means, out of each year of my life, I spent a minimum of 1,460 hours training for my profession. Over the course of 15 years (because let’s say I maybe drew less than 4 hours a day for about 10 years’ worth of my life), I dedicated more than 21,900 hours toward developing my artistic skills. That’s about 912 full days, or two and a half SOLID years out of that 15, spent improving and developing my abilities. What mad skills could you have if you spent 2.5 out of 15 years entirely on training? This is exactly why I respond to that annoying question, “I wish I could do art like you!” with the response, “You could if you dedicated as much time as I have to it.” Art isn’t a magical gift from the Gods. As artists, we are blessed with a spark, with the possibility of creation – but so are many non-artists as well. What makes an artist is not that spark of talent, but rather the overtaking power that art has over our minds – our entire existence. Art is in everything we see, it is the medium through which we express ourselves to the world, and how we experience every facet of our lives. Art is the silent scream of terror or cry of exultation. Art is our voice, our tears, our madness spilling beyond the bounds of our body – because our body isn’t big enough to house it. Art is a gift, and a curse, and it is everything, and nothing. It is our most precious treasure, and it is completely useless. Art both connects us to others and isolates us from them. Art is the expressions of our insanity that keep us sane – whilst simultaneously pulling us deeper into the depths. Art brings us adoration and resentment, awe and jealousy. Art liberates and ensnares us. Art is the anthem to which each beat of our heart plays until we march into our graves.

Bottled-Up Emotions and Icky Fungus

Sometimes memories are trapped in jars with the lids on tight. Without any air being able to get in to release the emotions those memories hold, they remain just as vivid. Some jars really hurt to open them. Some lids are very difficult to remove. Sometimes we try to empty the jars but find the contents are viscous, black, heavy, stuck within the small openings - nearly impossible to pry out. Some of the lids have come a bit unscrewed through the years, a small stream of oxygen has gotten in, but instead of clearing out the mess what has happened instead is that a fungus has grown. That fungus rots the original memory, overtakes it, and the fungus spreads - and even escapes the confines of the jar - infesting and affecting all the other memories it touches. It seeks out new breeding grounds, memories like the original one, where it can grow and spread further. It turns the many, unconnected, random memories and creates a story around those events - making them seems like they are all the same, because they are all covered by the same mold that came from the first memory jar. This is a very tenacious fungus, it spreads without us even realizing it. It is nearly impossible to completely eradicate. The spores hang in the aetherial air that is our emotional consciousness, catching onto any surface that can nourish it into maturity. Bottling up these spores does nothing to stop them - they cannot die from suffocation - though parts of us, can. Nothing can remain bottled forever - and once the lid is opened, or the glass breaks from strain, those fungus spores are freed again to wreak havoc across the delicate ecosystem that is our emotional biome. What, then, can be done to treat this moldy affliction? In the physical realm, one of the biggest fungus-eradicators is sunlight, and this is true on an emotional level as well. Beyond sunlight, also letting other forms of light in to our emotional sphere is vital to healing our emotions. Bathing those memories in clarity, acceptance, allowance, and love opens them up to being cleared by the "light" and oxygenating effects. Self-criticisms and judgments close us off, pull us in on ourselves, narrow our emotional pathways, and create the sort of environment that is a breeding ground for these negative emotional fungi. When we learn to treat our emotional afflictions with the same sort of attitude we treat our physical ones, we can discover many correlations between those two realms and how they affect and interact with each other. Everything in the physical realm can be used as a metaphor for the emotional realm - and vice versa - which is a beautiful thing. Perhaps it is time to do a bit of "spring-cleaning" and air out our attics, let some sunlight in, and clear out those dusty corners we like to pretend aren't there.

Sexual Disconnect - My Personal Response to a Difficult Subject

I was reading a dear friend's post on Facebook about sexuality and how it affects women when men use terms like "hot" to describe them without showing appreciation for the woman she is inside. What really stood out to me was the idea of the man masturbating inside the woman - which happens all the time (there are women who do it to men, too). But I think it is one of the big reasons why I have a disconnect or occasionally an emotional meltdown during or right after intimacy with a partner. At some point I realize that the sex wasn't about us two joining, sharing and enjoying together, and it was about him stroking his ego, enjoying how "sexy" I am, and getting off - and that hurts! When a man isn't being open to receiving advice on how to please me and(/or) says things like, "I know what I'm doing!" or "This worked before." it is really invalidating to the current experience - which causes me to disconnect from it entirely. When a man says, "Are you done yet?" or assumes I am and just moves on to "his turn getting off" it is hurtful and feels like my experience doesn't have any value or importance to him. When, after he has gotten off, he doesn't want to do any more for my enjoyment - or even criticizes my hunger for more - it's devastating and I feel entirely invalidated. At these times, that sinking realization that he was just using me to get himself off, paired with the feeling of him being selfish and invalidating, is incredibly hurtful. What makes it worse is that he doesn't even realize he is doing this, so when I attempt to communicate these things with a partner who is also a Nice / Good Guy, he feels guilt, hurt, frustration - and generally believes I'm just a bit too emotional and much too hard to get off. It ends up creating a dynamic between us where it is assumed I will not get off, but the sex will still be great for him, and I will graciously appreciate as enjoyable as it is - followed by my inevitable stomachache, nausea, and occasional uncontrollable crying. ("Oh, no, I'm fine, I just have intense abdominal pain after sex if I didn't orgasm.") It really creates an unhealthy pattern in my relationships where I feel that my sexual satisfaction is unnecessary and even inconvenient - and prevents me from having a deeply trusting, emotionally committed experience with a partner who I grow closer to. Inevitably, I drift further and further away as I am continually invalidated, he finds himself resenting me but doesn't know why, in his frustration he begins yelling at me or criticizing me constantly - and I end up getting sick of feeling like I'm the "bad guy" and eventually break up with my partner. It is a terrible, painful, vicious cycle I have been in for years - and unfortunately - it doesn't seem to matter how communicative and maturely open I am about sexual satisfaction for both parties if my partner isn't there yet, too. Which is very unfortunate, because with a caring, communicative, listening partner - sex for intuitive and empathetic ladies like myself would be even MORE incredible - if I could only trust as well. What I always think, though, is that each person has to create their own experience. There is definitely some sort of emotional block (and subsequent issues) I have that makes it more difficult for me to be a sexually open (not just communicative, but truly OPEN) woman who orgasms freely and thoroughly enjoys shared sexual experiences.

Androphobia

Fear rising up. Hot, sticky, heavy. Murkiness crawling in the corners. Lock the doors. OCD settles in. Germophobia strikes. The smell is everywhere. Good thing there is disinfectant spray. Where is the rubbing alcohol? Scrub off anywhere he touched. Shed the clothes and shove them into the bottom of the hamper. More disinfectant spray. Cover self with clothes, sweaters, blankets, turn on the AC. Try not to cut. Swallow the vomit. Uncontrollable shudders wrack my spine. My throat is closed off, swollen, angry. Hate settles in. I feel it creeping painfully just under my skin. My ears itch, paranoia grips me. I feel unclean. My senses intensify. More disinfectant spray. More rubbing alcohol. I can't get clean enough. He used my bathroom - I'll pee in the kitchen garbage can instead - there isn't enough disinfectant spray. I can't hide. He didn't do anything - I just have these feelings gripping me. I hate it. I feel so disgusted. I can't escape. I have a tension headache. His essence is still in the air. There is no such thing as clean enough. I continue wringing and shaking my hands. I want to take pills, I want to cut, I want to drink, I want to disappear, I want to choke and die. I can't stop feeling defiled, dirtied, like an alien energy sunk its claws into my bones and like parasites it rapidly spreads through my body, eating at my soul. I can't trust. I feel disgusted. I just want to be safe. I can't do this. Why do I have to spit after I kiss? I still feel the weight of his arm over my shoulder. It's not his fault. He didn't hurt me. He didn't trample across my boundaries. But others have. And now I carry those memories. They eat my mind and rationality. I can't breathe. I want to escape.