Taking the plunge

I’ve been an artist all my life. In high school, my notebooks were littered with doodles, often garnering more disdain from my teachers claiming I wasn’t paying attention than accolades for their creativity. In 2001, one of my sculptures was selected to be in a national juried show in Chicago, and that might be my biggest artistic achievement. But in my years of teaching my art had been shoved aside, only doing what was necessary for classroom visual aids. 

In the past year I’ve begun painting again, and have been experimenting with watercolors. I’ve built up a portfolio of my abstract pieces. And, feeling the need to get into the art community, I made an appointment to speak to a gallery owner and show him my work. 

When I got there, he wasn’t there. His assistant was, and it was his assistant who reviewed my work. During this time he seemed unimpressed, although from seeing other works in the gallery it was like nothing he had there. His comments were: 

Psychedelic, too busy, too structured, work larger, try a colored background and blending the colors

And he showed me other watercolor examples in the shop to back up his comments- which was akin to comparing apples and oranges as they were completely different styles! 

Realizing he didn’t like my work, I thanked him for looking and the suggestions and quickly made my way out of there. Although he did say that it was just one man’s opinion, it was still disheartening. 

If the demons in my head had been talking a bit stronger that day, maybe they would have eaten away at me. Maybe they would have nagged me to give up because my work sucks and no one will like it. But the demons voices were quiet that day, and I shook them off and told myself that what he said was right. 

It *was* one person’s opinion. 

And maybe there’s 100 others like it. But then there will be the other 100 who will enjoy my work and support it. So I left with my head held high, because I did something I never thought I would do. I put myself out there. I took the plunge. 

Journey into the mind of a depressive

This is my first blog post; that isn’t to say I haven’t blogged before, it’s just my first one here. As someone who suffers from depression, I frequently battle the inner demons that make my life difficult. They’re the demons that make it hard to get out of bed some days. The demons that whisper how worthless and useless I am. The demons that make me wonder if life is truly worth living. 

I’m a high functioning depressive. For many, I seem like a perfectly happy, normal human being. I’m an overachiever, a perfectionist, a leader. That just means I hide it well. Inside, I fight those demons. It’s an exhausting fight. A fight that, if I don’t win, I’ll die by my own hand. 

Currently, I’m not taking medication. Having no affordable health insurance since the end of August 2016, I haven’t been able to afford the one drug that would make my life that much more livable. Previously, I took a generic Prozac, and, it did a pretty good job of keeping the demons at bay. A side effect of it was that I managed everyday stress pretty damn well. 

This blog is my attempt to make sense out of my life, to battle those demons head on, and to perhaps one day learn to love myself again instead of all this self-loathing that I harbor. 

Welcome to the journey.