Hollow

This post will not be eloquent, or elegant. I seem to have lost my ability to write. That is why I have not been posting. I have lost my voice. I cannot seem to "create" anymore, whether it be painting, drawing or writing, my creative self, my artistic spirit seems quite literally to have disappeared.

I am not sure why. I am still severely depressed (and getting worse...again), so I know that affects me, but even when severely depressed I usually am at least a bit creative. Since I had ECT last year, and/or since I began taking Lithium I have lost both my creativity, and have been having great difficulty with my memory.

Anyways, I was just thinking about what to talk about in therapy. It seems like I get to therapy and I have no idea what to say...sort of like not writing here, or not being able to create. I feel like I can't express myself the way I need to. So I was just thinking about what is most important for me to deal with and I made a list.

1. For the last year I have had extreme memory problems. I get lost in my own city, confused when trying to navigate, even in places I am extremely familiar with. I forget appointments, stand up friends, can't remember what I just read, have huge holes in my long term and short term memory and feel so frustrated and stupid I want to scream. Dr. X tells me it is "pseudo-dementia", that if it were real I would not know I was having these difficulties. This idea enrages me. This "fake" dementia...is adding to the already huge ruins of my life.

I feel angry, because my memory problems are REAL. This problem is severely affecting my life. It is also making me feel even more depressed and anxious, I feel stupid and slow. People look at me strangely, judge me, and are annoyed I can't remember things. It is getting worse.

2. My constant negative thoughts, racing and going around and around and around incessantly all day. It is to the point that the only thing I look forward to is taking my sleeping medication so I can stop the thoughts.

3. I am angry with myself for loosing track and control of my life. I Intellectually i think I understand I have a mental illness, but on some, deeper, more important level I think I am in denial that an illness has made me this way. I feel like I did this to myself for some reason. I let myself get off track. If I really tried harder I could get better. If I really wanted it I could change.

4. I am so sick of feeling sick all the time. So tired of how fatigued I feel every single day. I feel so fatigued that I don't want to do anything. I literally have to FORCE myself to do the smallest of tasks. I am so sick of it being so much of an effort to do simple things.

5. "Compartmentalizing"...I feel like I am not a consistent person/being. I feel like I change to be whoever I think people need me to be. It is exhausting. I have no idea WHO I am.

6. I want to die...This seems to be the only consistent thought I have. I know I have talked about having suicidal thoughts before, but I feel intensely uncomfortable discussing the details and the depths to which these thoughts engulf me. I feel like the thoughts (an therefore myself) will be seen as childish, or attention seeking, or that they will be dismissed. I feel ashamed for having the thoughts, but I need someone to tell them to.

7. "I feel hollow", Sylvia path said this in the movie "Sylvia", then went on to explain she felt like she was a shell and there was a huge emptiness within. I feel exactly like that, It is even worse since ECT/and or Lithium. My creative spirit, my desire, my abilities, my being has disappeared.

It feels like dying is the only way all these problems will disappear. I see no way out.

Benevolent Structure

Over at Dr. Shock's Blog he has posted a blog about depression and art. With the post he has posted two paintings Klaas Koopmans painted of his fellow patients when Koopmans was in the hospital. They are beautiful.

Here are a couple drawings I did while in the hospital. My roommate, who I adored, had amaranthus on here beside table...it was stunning, so I drew it. Then I drew the part of my hospital room that I found myself staring vacantly at while I was there.

When I went into the hospital for ECT in 2004 I brought my drawing board, paper and pencils with me. Drawing helped me break away from the fear I felt about receiving ECT, but it was also a really positive way to pass the time during a very dark period of my life.

(note...an aside): ECT and my hospital stay was a positive experience for me. I read up about it and felt confident, and feel confident, that it is a safe and often effective treatment for major depression. There was however, some kind of primal fear about being put to sleep and trusting and allowing a stranger to do something physical to your brain. My fears were unfounded as the only negative side effect I was left with is crumby spelling (I used to have impeccable spelling...now it is really bad...though this could be medication induced and/or caused by my decline in reading since being depressed. It did however, seem directly associated with ECT..There is always spell check, so not really a big deal.
It is taking me a really long time to learn one of the most important lessons I can learn:

Plan to participate in positive activities in my life, even when, and especially when, I am depressed .

It is extremely difficult given how, when depressed, I have so much fatigue and a desire to do nothing but sleep. In the end though planned activities like volunteering, painting, drawing, and singing work to help me in a few ways:

1. The planned activities create a "benevolent structure" (Dr. X's term) This benevolent structure creates an external "pull" towards my continuing to do things to help myself, even when my mood drops.
2. The plan replicates some form of structure, which emulates a sort of "work". I really need structure to get out of bed. I do more if I have a set plan to do things.

3. While it may not seem like doing things is helping, maybe while doing things I feel overwhelmed, overbooked or just plain tired, but...I know doing things keeps me at least more on track than if I avoid everything and sleep.

4. Scheduling and doing planned activities "forces me" to actually do something. I don't mean really forces, I mean creates a sense of responsibility to myself and others that acts as a motivation for my doing, rather than only thinking about doing. The latter only creates guilt.

5. "I don't want to, or I'm too tired to, (go, paint, participate, see anyone etc.) usually means "I am too depressed to"...if I am thinking these thoughts it is extremely important for me to challenge them.

Here is My Truth

My appointment today was at first a bit stressful, but mostly it was uplifting. I am blessed to be a patient of Dr. X. I have known that from the first day I met him. I connect with him in a way that I cannot seem to with anyone else. I am learning, slowly, that connections like this are important to me and I need to search out other people I feel this way about.

I once again felt worried I had destroyed my therapeutic alliance with him, by "outing" my crush on him. A big part of why I am afraid it was the wrong thing to do is that it seems that everyone I say I love you to, or anyone I really really like and say so, always disappears in my life. It is so hard for me to get to the stage where I can actually speak my truth about someone. By the time I do it is too late, or the words magically destroy the bond.

Dr. X told me he was glad I told him, and that it was always important that I speak my truth with him. He also said we have a very strong alliance. I felt he was speaking truthfully, and that it was okay for me to feel whatever I did, and to talk about it openly, safely.

Part of the reason I feel drawn to him is the way he is: introspective, interesting, interested, thoughtful, never angry, calm, compassionate, always supportive, always available.

I have never met any man, my entire life who is these things. It's strange, but I was always drawn to the "bad boys". The men who always wanted to use me, or who wanted only one thing (I wanted that to)...but I also wanted more...and could never figure out why I always received less than I needed.

I watched as all my friends met men, who cared for them, and fell in love with them. By the time I was 27 I had slept with too many men to count, always enjoyed the experiences, but was always left wanting more than sex. I don't know what it is about me, but it seems I am not a lovable person. On top of that I am not sure I have ever loved. I guess that explains not receiving romantic love...you need to feel it to receive it.

This is my truth:

• The first man in my life, my dad, was the pattern from which all my relationships with men were cut. It was the relationship I learned to emulate. Unfortunately I have some of my dad in me. I get angry, and irritated, I am a bit overwhelming sometimes. I don't listen enough. I talk too much.
• My father was controlling, punishing, physically abusive and even worse a dismissive bully who believed the only correct views were his own. He scared me to death. He used intimidation; mental and physical abuse to keep me in line. I am still terrified by him. Almost every time I see him he does something that elicits tears in me. I know I am responsible for the tears, but I cannot make them stop. I cry on the way to his house. I don't want to go, but feel an intense sense of duty to be a good daughter. I humour him when with him to protect myself, but it always backfires. I never mange to stand up for myself.
• I left home the week after high school and moved to a different province. Less than a week after I moved far away from home I was date raped by the first boy I dated in my new town. I don't know what I was thinking, but I went back to his place after going to a club with him. We started kissing and then he began to take my clothes off. I tried to stop him, but he kept saying it was okay, we didn't have to do anything. When I was laying on the bed with him, partially clad, feeling cared for and enjoying the intimacy, feeling attractive and attracted to this man, he began trying to have sex with me. I said no numerous times, but he pushed me down and forced himself into me. As soon as it was over he told me to leave. I got dressed. Left, and cried all the way home. I felt dirty and used. I showered and cleaned myself up. Then I went to the payphone to beg my Mom to let me come home. She kept telling me I was just homesick and I had to stick it out longer and I'd get over it. I was so ashamed that I had let myself be in the position to have sex, that I had led the person on, that inside I had kind of wanted to make out, that I had not fought harder to get out of there. After that night I let men do whatever they wanted with me. If it got rough, something about that turned me on. It was like my being "taken" triggered a need to be taken. I think I lost my ability to love that night.

The truth is, the only man, in my real life (vs. people online), that has ever treated me respectfully is Dr. X. Even with other doctors, or professionals I have always felt either condescended to or dismissed. I can see that maybe my first male role model made it impossible for me to trust men, so all men get painted with the same black brushstrokes. Dr. X is consistently respectful. I need that.

My truth is that I have a lot of pain inside about how my relationships/nonrelationships with men have gone. I don't feel love, because I don't trust anyone. I always expect them to hurt me. I get what I expect.

I don't mean I get what I expect in a "The Secret" kind of way. I don't believe simply expecting others to be honest, fair, truthful and loving will make it so. That is magical thinking. I know that.

I mean I get what I expect, because I act and react to the people I would like to love me, in a way that creates a wall between us, in a way that projects fear and self consciousness. In a way that doesn't come across as genuine, or authentic.

When I am my authentic self I am full of intense passion and a desire to love. I sing loud, and laugh louder. I am overjoyed with being here on earth. I want to experience more, to witness more, to learn more. When I am my authentic self I draw people to me. Unfortunately my authentic self always eventually disappears for days, or weeks, sometimes months, and over the past 10 years into 2 and then 10 years of depression...which leads me to recede, to make myself small, to lose touch with all my talents and skills.

In therapy I think I have finally realized my truth. My truth is that I will always be besot by depressed periods. This is true. I will always have some sort of cycling appear here and there. This is true. What isn't true is that there is no hope, no way out. I have the power, both within me, and by reaching out to others, like my pdoc, to MANAGE to live with the depression.

If I have a structure to at least part of my day everyday, if I have other people or my cats and dog that I am responsible to, if I take my medication regularly, if I keep a regular sleep schedule, if I sit in front of my S.A.D. lamp every morning, if I keep in contact with people who care about me, if I continue to see Dr. X. for support...and maybe especially because I like seeing him, if I create art, if I sing everyday...even if I am sad...actually ESPECIALLY is I am sad, I can manage my life. I can make my life, even if it is a sad one, a life worth living.

It seems ironic, but without my struggles with depression, especially the intense despondency, hopelessness and despair I have felt this last depressive episode, I don't think I would ever have discovered my love for creating art. I may not have rediscovered my intense love for music and singing, I would never have began volunteering. I am not saying depression is a gift...I hate that misplaced platitude. I am saying that without my depression I would never have questioned what I wanted, or who I am. I would have continued on my weary way to a hellish existence. I would never have looked at my life from an existential perspective and asked myself if I loved the life I was living. I did not, but I am beginning to create the life I want. It is remarkable what I am learning about myself. It is remarkable that I am slowly learning it is okay to feel joy.

Vibrating

I wonder if you can sit on this thing? Imagine! Hmmm.

I was looking for a video of a song called "vibrating, by Robyn Hitchcock, but the only one online was really poor quality...so this is what you are stuck with...a woman on a vibrating exercise machine...funny though I am almost vibrating as much as she is...maybe I will lose weight? Do these things really work?

Picture a tall blonde bouncing off the walls and you are seeing me as I am right now. Ohh God...I am literally vibrating! (...get your minds out of the gutter;>) I slept a bit last night, but still far less than I need to and was awake much of the night despite having increased my Tegretol. By the middle of the night I had to take some Trazadone to try to help me sleep because I was tapping and singing and humming when I needed to sleep. The energy I have inside me is over the top. If I could bottle it and use it for electricity I might be able to power my whole house with it...for weeks.

I love having energy, but I am also feeling overwhelmed by the agitation/anxiety that my body seems full of. I cannot seem to stop moving and my heart is pounding and I'm breathing fast and shallow. It feels so physical. I have a really short fuse too and have been getting annoyed at people easily. I am so anxious my entire upper body is hard like a rock with all the tension I feel. I hate anxiety.

I think I will increase the Tegretol a bit more because I am wired and having a hard time focusing or concentrating on anything. I went to the Studio today to prep for my Printmaking class that begins Tuesday and staying on task was extremely difficult. Rather than do what I needed to do I found myself flitting about like a social butterfly and doing everything except what was required for me to be ready for Tuesday. I hope I calm down before my class starts.

I phoned my sister today to tell her about my singing lessons and within seconds she was saying "slow down, you are talking so fast I can't understand what you are saying". I was just excited about how my singing lessons went. I feel like a kid inside again. I haven't felt this much excitement about anything in a long while.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! "Calm blue ocean, Calm blue ocean, Calm blue ocean..." (that's my calming mantra).

Creating a Community for Myself: My Path Towards Resiliency

This is a long post. I was asked by someone at one of the Mental Health Teams in my city to write about my experiences with creating a community for myself and how it has helped my mental health. They want to share it with people they are trying to help. I thought I'd share it with you.

Creating a Community for Myself: My Path Towards Resiliency

Social isolation has been one of the most difficult symptoms of my depression for me to overcome. When well I am open, bubbly, extremely extroverted, trusting and want to be around people. When I am in a Major Depressive Episode (MDE) I turn inwards and isolate myself from the world, even from close friends and family. Seemingly simple social tasks, like answering the phone, or returning e-mails, become experiences that fill me with dread.

My illness presents itself as Major Depressive Disorder: an illness that consists of "episodes" of Major Depression, usually followed by periods of wellness. My depression is anxious and there is a component of "bipolarity" to it; meaning my mood cycles between severe lows and extreme highs. Both these symptoms make my depression more difficult to treat.

My most recent MDE has been treatment resistant, or "refractory" to medications and other treatments for 7 years. This means despite my trying literally more than 30 different medications and combinations of those medications, having ECT and participating fully in psychotherapy once, and for long periods, twice a week, I remained severely depressed and anxious, while periodically cycling up close to hypomania for a few days for most of this entire 7 year period.

With my depressive symptoms refusing to budge with medication, my psychiatrist and I work in therapy to help me in other ways. One of the major areas I have been working on in therapy is lessening my social isolation, and increasing meaning and purpose in my life by "creating a community for myself". This is a very difficult endeavor because my symptoms: Depression, Social Anxiety, Isolation, Amotivation, Fatigue Concentration and Memory Problems and Cycling Moods, work against my ability to help myself change, meet people, keep social commitments and often do anything beyond survive. Even that seems hard sometimes.

The process of change and creating a sense of shared meaning and community with others has been very slow and has never followed a direct upward trajectory towards wellness. I move forward, only to have my symptoms drag me backwards again. It has been a one step forward two steps back experience. I am, however, moving forward slowly. I do see this improvement. Before I just kept going two steps back over and over again.

When my psychiatrist first introduced the idea of creating a community for myself, a community that would help me become more resilient, that would accept me for who I was, that would add meaning to my life, that would help me move out of my isolation and into a world that both interested and supported me, I thought he was the crazy one. I felt so depressed and anxious, and I was so isolated; literally laying on the couch, or hiding in my bed all day. The task seemed impossible. How did he think I was going to manage such a difficult task?

I started safe and small. I was afraid to be around people, so I thought maybe being around animals would help. I began walking dogs for the SPCA. It got me out of the house. That was a big step.

Then a year or so later I began volunteering for [an arts festival in my city ]. To volunteer I needed to write my resume and go for an interview. I was absolutely terrified, but I pushed myself to do it with the help and support of my psychiatrist and with the belief that I might find a community that interested me.

I was very sick at the time and switching medications periodically. I was so scared each day I was scheduled to volunteer, sometimes even for days before my scheduled volunteer day, but each time I went I was greeted by my co-workers and my supervisor, people did not seem to notice I was sick, even if I thought I was not doing a good job I seemed to manage the tasks, the people I volunteered with were very nice. Each day I volunteered I gained a bit more confidence in my abilities. My second year with The festival I became so depressed I could not continue volunteering. To take care of myself I gave notice and stepped back from my commitments. This was a setback, but not a failure.

A few years prior I had become a member of a therapeutic art clubhouse that offered art classes to people with mental illnesses. The first class I took was Beginner's Drawing. I remember being so anxious about going to the classes. I was afraid I would be rejected, or not fit in, or be so bad at drawing I would be humiliated by my failures.

The instructor allowed me to be whoever, and however, I was on any given day. By the end of the 10 classes I felt a sense of community with the instructor and the people in the class. Motivating myself to reach out to other human beings and to leave my house and participate in a community was a huge step for me.

Still very ill, I took a Pottery class at the Clubhouse and then an Intermediate Drawing class. Each time I had to go to class I would feel sick and anxious. There were days when I really have no idea how I managed to get there. I believe my commitment to joining and participating in each class, having a scheduled and structured activities for myself and my psychiatrist's support, provided me with enough external motivation to go to each class.

It was not easy. I was always so anxious before I went to each class. Usually that anxiety stuck around for the first hour of the class, however often it never left me the entire class. It was hard to stay, but with the supportive environment and the support of my psychiatrist I forced myself to stick with my commitments. As each class went on I became more and more comfortable with the environment and with the people around me. Showing up to these classes was like behavioural therapy: A type of therapy that desensitizes a person to things they fear by slowly introducing them to the thing or things they are afraid of, until finally they become no longer afraid of the thing they fear.

My experiences at the [Art Clubhouse] awakened the slumbering artist inside me. I had never been artistic. In fact, drawing stick figures was the extent of my experience with the fine arts. I had always loved art; other people's art, but never believed it was possible for me to learn what I loved. With the [Art Clubhouse] experiences and successes to back me up I took a huge step from the Art Studios and decided to try an Adult Education class at [a local Art College]. It was a difficult, but rewarding experiences and my love for drawing began to grow.

Driven by my new found joy of art I began volunteering at the [Art Clubhouse]. I participated in cleanup days, and showed up for their monthly meetings. I began to meet more people in that community. The more I participated in the community the more it began to feel like an even safer and welcoming community. I had discovered a group of peers who not only shared my love for art, but who also understood and accepted me for who I was.

One day I saw a posting for an assistant to the printmaking instructor. I took another large leap and applied for the position. I cannot even express how difficult this was for me. I was very depressed at the time and cycling rapidly between severe and anxious depression and a sense of euphoria brought on by my new found feelings of social freedom and a sense of meaning and purpose I had not felt in a long time. After being the Printmaking Assistant I applied to be the Beginner's Drawing instructor's assistant. Each time I assisted the instructor my anxiety became less and less and my comfort level, and my enjoyment the studio's community improved more and more.

I now volunteer to teach Art classes. I teach Beginner's Drawing, and have taught a short Printmaking group for young adults. I am about to teach my third session of Beginner's Drawing classes and a session for young adults in drawing, printmaking and painting. Even better than this I have discovered I have both a love and a developing talent for acrylic painting. To top it all off I have somewhere to go to share this joy with and even more important, I now interact regularly with people who support my artistic endeavours.

Through a supportive and caring community I have discovered meaning and purpose in my life. I am becoming the person I always wanted to be. Never in my life have I felt like I was on the right path. I feel like that now and this feeling has healing power. My experiences at the [Art Clubhouse] have opened a world for me I never knew existed. This community has lifted me out of isolation and is moving me closer in my quest towards healing my soul. I cannot say enough how important creating a community for myself is contributing towards my climb out of depression and towards resilience and increased wellness.

My Zebra Paintings

I finished the "zebra" paintings for my niece. Each is 12" X 12" on a deep canvas (1.5" thick, which gives the paintings more dimentionality as I have painting all the sides to make it look 3D).

You may/may not remember, but the theme is Zebra stripes and purple. My sister did not want pictures of zebras, rather parts/sections of zebras or paintings that used the stripes...and purple had to be somehow integrated int each picture.

I will post:

1) Top Left...the original photo that inspired the painting

2) Top right the way I cropped the photo and chose a portion of it to paint

3) Beneath these in the centre...My Acrylic painting rendition of the cropped photo...with a bit of purple added for niece loving measure.

A) "Zebra Mountains" (I changed it a bit from the first one I posted)

B) "Zebra Lily": (I did one version that had a yellow centre, hated it a repanted it to have a water centre, which still reminded me of flower stamins)

C) "Zebra Face" (This is my favourite...the eye is shaded with different tones of purple)


I feel pretty pleased with myself and what I was able to do...especially the face. I could have done more shading on the face, but I liked the purity of the white and black. In fact the white is a mixture of yellow and white, which looked really yellow until it was placed next to the black. I love how that works.

In My Dreams I Could Paint

Aqua, Collage, 2002 (a bit "weatherworn"...but intact)

In my last post I mentioned I had photographed some of my earlier drawings. I have shown you my paintings before. I only fairly recently began to take an interest in art. In fact, it has only been since this MDE started that I even began truly exploring my artistic side.

I have always loved art and have always been "creative". I loved to make things...jewellery, decorating birdhouses, making designs on stepping stones out of stained glass...crafty kinds of things, but I had never really drawn or painted.

When I was young I had recurring dreams, both at night and during daydreams, in which I could paint. In the dreams I so clearly saw every detail in the objects I observed. I would take out my paintbrush, or pencil, or crayons and I could replicate the objects perfectly. When I woke this was never the case. I could see, but whenever I tried to draw or paint I was awful at it. This feeling was further enforced by my grade 4 art teacher who told me I did not have the skill to create art. I never wanted to try drawing or painting again. Why do something if you are not good at it?

Well in 2002 I became brave and tried something I was not good at. I took an "Introduction to Drawing" class at the local Art College. One of the first lessons was to draw my hand using no line, only tone. I did not even understand the concept, until I went home and drew and drew and drew for a few hours. Suddenly, using tone alone (shading on a scale of 0 (white) to 10 (black) and various gray tones in between) my hand appeared out of nowhere onto the page. I finally "got it". I created a picture of my hand without drawing a single line...I amazed myself. I was hooked.

Throughout that drawing class we were told to do patterning and pencil control exercises every evening. We were to draw two boxes on each piece of a pad of paper that was 4 inches by 2 inches.. The exercises were meant to help us understand how each pencil felt, moved and created light and dark shading (2b pencils being harder and creating lighter shades of gray and black, 4b softer creating darker shades and 6b pencils allowing darker shades yet). It was also an exercise to help us practice drawing patterns over and over, because in nature repetitive patterns are often the case.

So I drew and I drew and I drew. It was hypnotic. I discovered that while I was drawing the patterns, and focusing on the drawing, my relentless and often violent suicidal thoughts would disappear; my anxiety would dissipate and my rage would become less and less. The drawing slowed my mind enough so I could, for the time I was engaged in the activity, just "be".

The last day of the class we were told to bring in all the pattern drawings. We were then told to make a collage from all the patterns. I thought I would share mine today. As I was placing my patterns on the paper I was intentionally moving from darkness to lightness; a reflection of my shifting moods. When it was complete I really was amazed at what such simple, seemingly rote exercises could become and how it made me feel so much better while I was creating each tiny piece, but also the final collage.

Selling My Art Work

God...you are not going to believe this (and I don't have time to tell the whole story)...I have had an incredibly fascinating 2 days. Yesterday I attended a Mental Health Conference and then today I along with other Studio members and staff, I met with the 3 key speakers from the conference.

One of the speakers, an American psychiatrist (who spoke about how the brain physically changes when introduced to trauma and how to untrain the brain when trauma is reintroduced) (soooo interesting), wanted to buy one of my paintings...the "Unravelled" painting. I didn't sell it, because I can't part with it yet, but she gave me her card in case I change my mind...I feel really honoured that she wants to buy it. This makes me feel like I am headed in the right direction and towards the right destination.

I have a guest this weekend, but will tell you more about the conference in a few days. It was so interesting and I had so many epiphanies during it that I would like to share.

Happy Victoria Day Long Weekend for all you People of the Commonwealth Nations,
...aqua

A Switched Flipped Yesterday and...

A switched flipped yesterday and my mood lifted. Well, in fact, I will retract that statement.

"I flipped a switch and my mood lifted"

I take responsibility for lifting my mood...and Dr. X. if you are reading this sit down:
I joined a guitar class and seriously played my guitar for the first time in years!

And guess what...it made me feel so good. The experience was mostly extremely pleasurable. And then...we played again this morning! And guess what else...though I woke up today exhausted, the music and the inspiration of other's music, and the safe camaraderie in the drop in session this a.m. was again soul enhancing.

Dr. X. will understand how hard this was for me. Years ago, when I was in my early twenties, I hung out with a large group of people. Before and during part of second year University I was dating one of them. Music was my life.

From the time I was young I played ukulele(no lie), the guitar and drums. I listened to all the music I could get my hands on. In my late teens and early twenties I went to see live bands every week, all the time. This was when the grunge movement beginning and was getting big on the Westcoast and I was enthralled by the energy of the music.

A couple girlfriends and I started a band. We had a practice space and practised all the time. It was so fun to sing and make music. Then I started university.

I became overwhelmed by the academics, partly because I was having to work to support myself, partly because I was trying to keep up with my friends outside university and partly because I hadn't been in school for a while and really was not prepared for how much pressure there was. I slipped into an extremely severe depression. As I became depressed my boyfriend cheated on me (on purpose) knowing I would dump him. He told me I was too depressed to be around.

This did two things. It set me into an even more severe depression and it made me lose contact with all my friends. All my friends were mutual friends with him. So along with the relationship ending, all , but one of my friendships ended, our band ended and I stopped going to listen to bands. I also put down my guitar. It was too painful a reminder of so much loss. I became even more depressed and sought help, which helped with the depression, but never helped me pick up my guitar and play again. I literally didn't play it again for years.

Dr. X has tried to get me to play, because he knows music creates a sense of joy in me. I made a couple weak attempts to try, but it just brought back too many sad feelings.

In the impromptu lessons yesterday (that we planned at the Art Clubhouse on Monday) I almost cried numerous times when I was playing. I have so many feelings of loss and abandonment tied up in my guitar. I was terrified I would be so bad and I would embarrass myself. I did embarrass myself, because almost twenty years away from an instrument does not a good guitar player make, but I survived the embarrassment. Dr. X. has tried to help me so many times to allow myself to be embarrassed and live through it. He has advised me to take a behavioural approach to my embarrasment. The more I let myself get through those moments, hopefully the more I will learn to feel less embarrassed.

While I played my guitar in the lesson I almost cried from fear, shame, and embarrassment, but I kept trying and I received so much encouragement. A group of us are planning to meet for lessons and jam session every week.

I am so glad I took that step to force myself to try to play again, despite all my fears and all the bad memories attached to that guitar. It felt like yesterday and today were an attempt to create good memories with the guitar. That is a huge step in the right direction. I can tell it helped me, because my mood lifted during the first guitar session continued to lift today despite being exhausted this morning. After I started playing the guitar at the studio it was like I woke up. I began to joyfully make up lyrics and sing out loud and strong along to the blues riffs we are learning. I love music.

"Unravelled"

This is my latest painting. I finished it 5 minutes ago. It is titled, "Unravelled". As always it is full of symbolism.

She is me, but she isn't. She is dreamlike and is about to defy gravity. Before she hits the sea and rocks below, before she reaches the depths of madness and death, she will lift out of the fall. The shroud she has been wrapped in is becoming unravelled and as the fabric unravels, as she unravels her shroud is becoming wing like.

I was thinking of Icarus and his inevitable fall when he tried to reach the sun with wax wings. However another symbol developed as I began to paint, that of an angel protecting me and saving me from Icarus's impending death on the rocks below.

I have within me the foolishness to strive for the sun, wrought by my intense upswings in mood, and the sadness to send me crashing to earth. While painting this I was believing that somewhere there is a middle ground; a place where though I may soar, or I may fall, it is a safe place.

Dr. X and I have spoken about that place in the past. I think I am now ready to explore and accept the idea that safety is not what I used to think it was. The idea that I need to embrace my new, intensely personal, and unexpected way of being. That may be the only thing I have control over in terms of embracing and saving myself.

Opening Up Too Much

I just got back from my therapy session. I have mixed feelings about how it went and how much I opened myself up to Dr. X.

All day yesterday and last night I was so excited about the paintings I had done, so last night I really wanted to share my joy with Dr. X. This morning I awoke with a feeling of shame, or impending doom about my art and sharing it with my pdoc. I wrapped the paintings up and put them in my truck anyways, so I at least had the option to decide once I got to his office.

I've been trying to figure out why I felt ashamed, or feared embarrassment, or was afraid of (hidden) criticism, or had a sense of doom around sharing my pictures, when yesterday I was so really excited and happy to share them with everyone at the studio.

I think one reason is that what he thinks about me matters more to me than what others think about me. This is a strange dynamic. I think partly it has to do with him being a man. Maybe also as a man I project my father onto him. My father would be the only other person from whom I would fear criticism, or a negative reaction.

Dr. X. is probably the exact opposite of my father in terms of personality, temperament and reactions to me, but because he is in a position of power, because I (still) have difficulty trusting the authenticity of his reactions to me, because I sense a big part of his job, and therefore his relationship with me, is to judge me (to judge my wellness, my personality, my pathology, etc.), I feel fearful, that while outwardly he is accepting me, inwardly he just thinks I'm a complete loser. A failure as a human being.

There is absolutely nothing that Dr. X. has ever done that would lead me to believe he feels like this. He is consistently supportive, kind, caring and warm, but the feeling and fear still lurks in me for some reason. I try really hard to overcome that fear. Today I did bring my paintings in for him to see to with that goal in mind, but as I showed him I had a sinking feeling. I talked with him about it, but I couldn't really express why I was feeling that way. I still am having a hard time explaining it.

On top of sharing my paintings, I also shared my blog address with him. Part of me thinks it would be great if he could read what I blog about, because I seem to be able to be more open and articulate here because I have had a chance to digest how I feel.

The other part of me fears that I have left myself too open on this blog; that I am opening myself up for judgement. Giving him my blog address is in effect challenging that fear; understanding that I have left myself open and vulnerable to judgement, yet pushing myself to do that anyways. Maybe the more I allow that to happen, the more I will be able to overcome those fears.

Ascension

My second painting: "Ascension"

I am so creative right now it feels like the old me has come back. I feel like myself for the first time in 6.5 hellish years. I have a hyperthymic temperment and when well I can do a million things at once, but remain extremely focused on each task. That is how I have felt for 4 glorious days.

In those days I have completed 2 paintings (One yesterday and one the day before), and I have began two others. It is remarkable. I sat down to paint yesterday at 10:30 am and finished at 7:30 p.m. I was so engrossed in what I was doing.

This painting is titled "Ascension". Fitting that I painted it on Easter Sunday. I was thinking of lots of things as I painted it. it is a mixed reference to my increase in mood. The obvious portrayal is a cross, yet the Christ figure is a female. She is descending into the ocean (This is the way I would like to commit suicide).

I called it "Ascension" because of the belief that Christ had to die, before he ascended. (The woman is drowning). Sort of a metaphorical description of how I often see my only hope in suicide. I feel in suicide I will at the very least end my suffering, which is better than life when I suffer. Not that I see myself as a Christ figure. According to the bible his death ended others suffering. Suicide would end only my suffering, not others;>)

While I am not really religious I am very interested in religion and probably obsess over it.

I like the idea of the unknown woman under the shroud, chained and bound by something outside herself. Maybe also a reference to how I find it difficult to know who I am. If you look closely the chains around her neck are clasped with a padlock that repeats the cross in the place where the lock would be.

I know there are errors of perception in the painting, and the colours in the picture do not do it justice. The original has more yellow and blue in it. Despite seeing things I need to change in the painting I love what I did here though. It is approximately12 inches my 36 inches.

High and Full of Creativity

This is only the second painting that I have ever completed. I'm just learning to paint, but I think it turned out pretty well and I feel good about my attempt. For me to even say that I must be feeling better.

Dr. X adjusted my medication yesterday and today I have been feeling so incredible. He increased my Dexedrine to 10mg spansules (time release capsules) twice a day, once at 8am and once at noon. It did wonders for me today.

Before I was taking a 10mg Dexedrine spansule in a.m. and then a 5mg regular release Dexedrine at noon. I was crashing big time at 3pm. I had to sleep for 2-3 hours and had no energy or motivation to make dinner, eat dinner, clean-up. It was awful.

Today I didn't crash like I have been doing. In fact, I painted all day and only noticed it was 7:30pm when I was finished my painting. I even forgot to eat. That is a sure sign I feel better. Whenever my mood goes up I get creative and I stop eating.

This painting is a rendition of a picture I found months ago in the newspaper when the Myanmar riots were going on. I changed the original picture, but used its idea as a reference. I loved the idea of the peaceful resistance vs. the armed guards, the dark vs. the light, the good vs. the evil (and/or the difficulties in deciding what is right/wrong). I am sure the soldiers believe what they are doing is right, as do the Buddhists.

I also thought the picture reminded me of the yin and yang of life. I was also struck by the dichotomous nature of the physical government authorities and authorities of the soul being combined in one picture.

Surging Creativity

Over the past week I have felt my mood and energy lift immensely. This feeling has produced and overwhelmingly intense surge of creative energy. I say overwhelming because the ideas are coming faster than I can even begin the paintings.

I took a class the other day where I learned how to stretch my own canvases for painting. Yesterday I went out and spent a small fortune on the tools, canvas, stretcher bars a staple gun, a few ready made canvases, more paint (even though I have lots of paint) and anything else at the store I decided I "needed".

I have so many great ideas for paintings, today, before I start a new one, I am going to actually try to finish the one I'm in the middle of (and have been for the last 2 months). I love this feeling. It feels like I am back. The real me is creative and energetic, and passionate and excited about everything around me.

The real me sees intense beauty in all the little things that surround me, the puddle of water being used as a birdbath by a robin returning for spring, the willow tree buds popping up each day turning weeping branches of the tree a beautiful shade of light yellow/green, the crocuses popping through the lawns, the mountain's winter water runoff racing down the river searching for the sea, the bald eagle soaring above the farm, climbing to heights that seem impossible and coming together to mate mid air, falling to the ground faster than Icarus fell as his wings melted in the sun. The eagles manage to part ways before hitting the ground and then soar higher and higher and begin their dance again. It is beautiful.

Despite this beauty, and despite my lift in mood I am thinking a lot about suicide, maybe a better description is having suicidal imagery stuck in my head. These ideas are fixing themselves into my artwork. I do not understand why, when I feel so much better.

What I have Enjoyed in my Life: Meme

I got this meme from Jame's blog @ "Letters from the Sanitarium". Thought it might show me as more of a 3-dimensional character:

Thanks James....this was good for me...to think of the things I can do, can accomplish and enjoy.

Four Jobs I Have Had or Currently Have in My Life:

1) Currently Volunteering as an Art Instructor/Mentor: At an Art Studio that is a rehabilitation clubhouse for people who have severe and persistent mental illnesses (schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, major depression). I have co-taught printmaking classes and helped with teaching an older adults pottery class (handbuilding). I am about to start co-teaching a beginner's drawing class and just finished the 8th of 10 lesson plans yesterday. I love this place and am a member there as well...so get to use the space to do my art and attend classes.

2). Just finished volunteering at my city's Shakespeare festival...I worked in the concession last year and was a bartender this year. I had to quit because of my symptoms this year, but hopefully can go back next year.

3). "Facilitation and Development Specialist"...at a HUGE, massive, gigantic corporation. I developed training material and classes, as well I facilitated workshops for managers. Before that I had been a trainer in the organization for years. This job took me down. It was so high stress and involved travelling across the country to deliver workshops. I left this job and went on disability. Ironically, the last day I worked was the day I completed and did my first workshop around ensuring the organization creates a workplace that is open and accessible to people with disabilities. They speak the speak...but when it came to walking the walk...What a joke. I saw so many people with mental illness treated so poorly...it was sad. Glad I left.

4). Bartender, hostess, waitress at a busy restaurant. Did this throughout University and I loved it. The place was fun, always busy and relaxed. The people I worked with were amazing. The restaurant might as well have been a bar on Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights. It was one of the busiest places in the city and I just loved working there. Kind of weird because now something like that would terrify me.

Four Countries I Have Been to:

1) British Virgin Islands: My husband and I rented a 34 foot motorboat with another couple and cruised around the islands for 2 weeks. Can you say BLISS. It was the best vacation I ever had. I spent most of my time in the water. As you may have gathered from my name I am a waterbaby. The second I touch the water I am free.

2) England (London): Visited my best friend for 10 days. I love this city...Even after 10 days I did not even scratch the surface of what is available to experience there. I was blown away by the National Gallery and the Tate Gallery. Also, their underground is amazing and easy to figure out. They have the simplest maps of the city at the underground...they fit in your back pocket. Truly a city geared to tourists.

3) France (Paris): Did the whirlwind one day walking tour. It was so incredibly beautiful. I have never seen anything so gorgeous. It was a beautiful spring day and we walked all over and ended up in the park that encompasses the Louvre. The day was exhausting...but worth it. I want to go back for a longer period of time.

4) USA (Washington, Oregon, California, Nevada, Utah, Idaho, Montana, Arizona, New Mexico): Took many different trips. Camping down the Oregon/California coast, to San Francisco when I was 22...loved it!!, to the Grand Canyon a few years back...unbelievably gorgeous...especially the North end (I think...the undeveloped end anyways...stunning). I always had a great time in the US but, I'm scared to go to the states now because I'm afraid to cross the border. It freaks me out how much power those uneducated people have. They have more power than the police...scary. Not that I'd do anything illegal, but I get scared nonetheless.


Four Places I'd Rather be Right Now:

1). Canoeing and Camping on Sakana Lake...I go there in my head when I get really stressed out.

2). London, England...I love that place

3). Tofino, B.C....I got married on the beach there and it is beautiful...the huge wave, the sound of the ocean, the seclusion....ahhhhhh!

4). My pdocs office. The second I get there I feel safe. About 10 minutes into my sessions I usually become extremely calm. He soothes my soul.


Four Foods I Like to Eat:

1). Chinese... especially Schezuan

2). Japanese...sushi...yum

3). Indian

4) Mexican

Four Personal Heroes-past or present:

1) My Mom...she was all about being caring and compassionate. I don't think I ever heard her say a bad word about anyone. She had this incredible ability to see from other's perspectives. I loved her more than anyone on earth.

2). Jesus...the man...I'm not religious at all, but when you read about Jesus in the new testament it is amazing to see a man so accepting of everyone. This is where it makes me sick that Conservative Christians twist his words and deeds into hatefulness for people who are different from them. Jesus the man accepted all and was kind, compassionate and good to all. I think (if he existed) he was a great role model. Even if he's made up, he's still a great role model.

3) Mahatma Gandhi: Peaceful Resistance...need I say more.

4) Buddha: Any being who helps others survive their suffering is a great being in my books. I am struck by how much Buddhism is like western psychology...interesting.

Four Books I have Read or Are Currently Reading:

1). A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry...If you want to smell, see, feel what it is like to be lower caste and struggling to survive in India...this book will take you there. Beautifully written.
2) Heavier Than Heaven: A Biography of Kurt Cobain....This man suffered...The book is well written and will make you think twice about the benefits of fame.
3) Existential Psychotherapy, by Irvin Yalom...This book got me to finally leave work and helps me take responsibility and move forward in spite of my mental illness. He writes fiction too that makes some of his theories more accessible (read: "When Nietzsche Wept"...It will make you take charge or "Lying on the Couch"...a play on words...the book is a really fun and sometimes disturbingly honest look at psychiatry).
4) The Heart of Buddha's Teaching: Transforming Suffering into Peace Joy and Liberation, by Thich Nhat Hanh...an easy to read, easy to understand introduction to Buddha's philosophy. I was awestruck both by the author's writing and by Buddha's teachings. I love the way Thich Nhat Hanh views the world. It makes you want to survive your suffering.