The parts that make me A Strange Child are hiding the battles within

Here’s where I take a moment to be serious.

Yesterday was a day that I never thought would happen. Another of my favorite comedians committed suicide, and the discussions about depression flew around the world. The man made the world smile and to realize that he lost his battle with depression was painful to accept.

I’m bipolar so I’m all too familiar with the cheeky bastard that is depression. I’ve been swimming in the middle of another bout recently so this news break poked me a bit closer to home than I care to admit. I’ve also attempted suicide a few times. Each attempt was me screaming out “HELP ME!” and thankfully I got help. Several years ago, I came very close again to reaching out into that abyss, and that’s when I got the diagnosis of my mental illness. I started the medication tiltawhirl and starting marching the therapy parade. I’ve had to put this all on pause due to the financial crisis we’ve stepped in recently so this has influenced the recent downward turn. Things will be picking up soon thankfully as things will change for the better, but people don’t really understand what is going on in the skull of someone fighting an army of emotions that is pushing them towards that cliff. The best way I’ve seen depression explained was this:
“Depression is like drowning except you can see everyone around you breathing.”
“Depression: Its such a cruel punishment. There are no rashes, no fevers, no blood tests to send people scurrying in concern. just the slow erosion of self as insidious as cancer. And like cancer, its essentially a solitary experience; a room in hell with only your name on the door.”

I found that art is one of my outlets for battling back the army, but sometimes the army gets too loud for me to hear the creative ideas for the art I need to make. I’m fortunate to have a husband that fights the army for me when it gets to be too much. He really is at times my own personal Doctor that swoops in with his Tardis and waves his sonic screwdriver to battle the madness. He made me promise last night that I would always talk to him as he couldn’t live in a world without me. *swoon* I have a life preserver to cling to. Its painful to see that Robin Williams couldn’t find his in the darkness at that moment.

I don’t have advice for non depressed people as its ridiculously hard to get them to understand what can be a trigger to get the depression army to retreat as there NEVER is one magical way of doing it. Its different for everyone. For me, at the moment, its my daughter. In 2009, I gave birth to a beautiful little girl that is living the happiest life she could ever ask for with her two adopted daddies. My husband and I knew we couldn’t be the proper parents she deserved so we found two gentlemen that could. They worship her and seeing her growing up is the life preserver that keeps me afloat. My motivation to get my degree, to pursue my artistic interests, and to better myself is all because I want to make her proud. I want her to look at me with pride, and whenever I see that edge of the cliff, I hear her laugh or see her beautiful and I pull up my sword and head back into battle against the depression orcs with vigor. I never want her to hear that I got lost in the darkness. I fight for her. But I do pray that I never lose the fight.

Self love is hard to find, accept, and embrace. Asking for help is even harder. Depression lies so convincingly it should be a politician. It takes an act of faith to not believe those lies. Faith in whatever helps you find a way out. Finding that faith is the tricky part, especially for me as an unrelenting faith in anything has always alluded me.

I don’t know you, but I love you. As Robin Williams said “You’re only given one little spark of madness . You mustn’t lost it.” I’ve begun to embrace my madness, and boy oh boy,………….this shit is gonna be fun to play with!

The artist sign has been turned on

So let me tell you about my day. I first put on some Barry White, then lit some scented candles, get out the coconut butt……………wait, that’s a different blog entirely. Hold on…*checks notes* AH! Yes, this is the OTHER blog. Okay. Well that almost got awkward and sticky.

Anyhue, I’m an artist. I know……..SHOCKING in this day and age, especially given the local job markets. I began with photography and have recently begun working in different mediums as a way to explore my talents as well as find my artistic voice/style. I’m in no means the next Picasso, Duchamp, Man Ray or Varo, but I do feel like I’m finally hitting that first good dot on the Twister game known as finding oneself. I am a full time student working on completing my BA in studio art and art history, which really breaks down to I drugged my husband into thinking that me not working is TOTALLY a win for our household and should need be, porn is always a very solid Plan Q.

I’m currently working on two different portfolios, one in drawing and the other in painting, while planning out a photography scavenge hunt for my summer break starting in May which should be also around the same time that my loving husband finally wakes up from his Roofie macchiato and learns of my clever ruse to rule the world through my art (and the paint stain in the garage) and decides that his efforts to smother me in my sleep no longer seems so difficult to do after all. He smothers me with The Pillow of Fluffy Death because he loves me people!! Don’t you dare take that away from him.

I do have to get some sort of website up very soon to display my work so when the gallery showing opens next month, I’ll have shiny, adorable little business cards to hand out that shows people where to see my stuff so they can say to themselves, “My word, that darling young lady really does have talent alongside those fabulous breasts of hers! We simply must give her our money at once!” This of course is spoken with a dignified British accent in my brain meats as I’ve been watching far more BBC shows than a person probably should be and I’m also a “Cumberbitch” because, seriously, is there anything hotter than intelligence AND a wicked sense of humor on a person???

Seriously. There isn’t. Intelligence + wicked sense of humor = me in a puddle of girlie goo. Which is why I’m so happy my husband hasn’t filed the restraining order paperwork and remained by my side for these past 14 years.

So my to-do list consists of:

• business cards
• website
• portfolios
• photo hunt
• world domination
• fight club meetings (shit, wasn’t supposed to talk about that! DANGIT!)
• putting lotion in the basket
• and eventually afternoon tea.

So much time, so little to do…….wait, reverse that.