50 Things I Love

#50. I am absolutely fascinated with Nina Simone's sound. I am about to learn two more of her song's in my singing lessons.

This song: "Chauffer", sounds so sexy and the beat is so lively and uplifting. The other one I really really like is "Love Me or Leave Me", and I have been learning "Willow Weep for Me". I really LOVE her voice.

Anyways...my post today is going to be about "Things I love", because my mood is crashing once again and I am hoping I can stop the downward spiral by focusing on positive things in my life, rather than rant about how everything is going to shit once again. It's hard to say that, because over the past few weeks I was getting to feel so sure I was "cured"...well maybe not cured, but that I was coming out of this depression. Now I am back to feeling as though I will never stop cycling up and down. Very frustrating.

Anyways, enough venting my bad stuff and onto what I love in and about this life, and this world. Please note I may be a bit sexually explicit in my statements...because they are afterall my thoughts, so I am going to write what things I love and how I love things (Close your eyes if you don't want to read:>)

50 Things I Love in This World:

1. I love music...all kinds of music.
2. Right now I am particularly swept up by some women who sing Jazz and Blues...Nina Simone, Sarah Vaughan, Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald and Eva Cassidy.
3. I am currently obsessed with 2 violin concerto's...Sibelius' Violin Concerto in D minor (Opus 47), and Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto in D (Opus 35)...The version I am really enjoying is a Deutch Grammophon recording/1993 of the Philharmonia Orchestra, Giuseppe Sinopoli Conducting and Gil Shaham as the principle violinist. Both pieces are extremely passionate. I feel full of life when listening to them.
4. I love Sergei Rachmaninoff''s Piano Concerto No. 3 in D minor, Op. 30 ...You cannot listen to it once or quietly...it is a big, grand, absolutely stunning piece of music. It needs to be played loud enough so your body can feel it.
5. I love the feeling during sex when it is that exact moment when a man first enters fully into me. That flash of heat I feel that comes in waves over my body and that moment when my breath is momentarily taken away. It is sublime.
6. I love a good red wine. It induces a feeling of well being in me after a couple glasses.
7. I love kissing. My husband isn't a kissing person...so I really, really miss kissing. I can get so turned on, just by kissing...or sometimes just by thinking about kissing.
8. I love singing. Dr. X told me singing can lift our mood; not just listening to music, but actually singing out loud. I know this is true. Last night I was so depressed, but I went to choir practice anyways...a few minutes of singing lifted me up while I was practicing.
9. I love sex dreams.
10. I love HaggenDazz's Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Dynamo ice cream.
11. I love being told what to do during sex...in a "mock" master/servant kind of way. (...though if were real it would irritate me!)
12. I love swimming in tropical waters...the colour of the water is so enticing, the smell of the ocean inviting, and the life beneath the surface of the water so intriguing.
13. I love Tofino...Long Beach and Radar Hill. I love hiking down through the rainforest to the empty beach below..It feels like I am the only person on earth when I am down there. It is a peaceful solitude. I want my ashes spread in the water down there.
14. I love sitting in the chair across from Dr. X. There is some kind of calming energy in his office. I am certain it is him.
15. I love the smell of a man who has just showered.
16. I love the smell of the soil on the days in the spring when the soil warms up just enough to emit a slightly damp, soil smell. I often walk around the farm taking deep, deep breathes of the smell hoping to hold onto it forever.
17. I love my four little nieces. They are the most adorable people on earth. I feel blessed to be their Aunt. I would die for them. I will live for them.
18. I love both my sisters to infinity and beyond. They are my soul sisters. I would do anything for them.
19. I love a good foreign film. I am in awe of different ways of life, different cultures, mores, religions, belief systems and perspectives. I find foreign films allow me to see into a culture from so many different perspectives.
20. I love black humour and dark subject matter in books and films.
21. I love going out for dinner.
22. I love going out for pancakes, maple syrup and eggs and bacon for breakfast.
23. I love Thai food.
24. I love Chinese food.
25. I love Vietnamese food
26. I love Sushi.
27. I love a good steakhouse.
28. I love Caesar salads
29. I love Halibut.
30. I love the spicy, salty prawns my husband cooks.
31. Actually I like everything my husband cooks. He's a great cook.
32. I love it when my husband and I role play during sex...especially when he "forces" me to be quiet.
33. I might as well just say the obvious...I LOVE SEX...in all its wondrous forms.
34. I love that I am open about and love sex.
35. I am happy I experimented sexually with many people, men and women, before I got married...I enjoyed it all.
36. I love that I had the mom I did. I will always love and respect her.
37. I love helping others.
38. I love that, despite my illness, I manage to volunteer helping others. It gives me a sense of meaning and purpose in my life...even when I am depressed.
39. I love sleeping in the afternoon. I usually am exhausted by 2 or 3 PM and need a nap. I used to feel so guilty about giving in to my fatigue and napping. I have changed my mind and have decided if a nap in the afternoon is what I need to feel better in the morning and at night...I will enjoy the naps I have...and dump the guilt.
40. I love it when I sleep through the night.
41. I love to walk along the river's edge on a warm sunny day.
42. I love a quiet visit with each of my friends.
43. I love many of the members at the Art clubhouse I go to. It feels good to be understood.
44. I love talking with Dr. X. He seems to really understand me at a deep level. I love how non-judgemental he is. I love how open-minded he is about all kinds of things. I believe he is the best psychiatrist for me. He has stuck by me through such a long and difficult time, and I believe he is helping me become a better person; the person I always wanted to be. Even if I remain cycling between depression and my high moods, I feel he is helping me accept and manage my life with those moods and my symptoms, while always looking for a way to better treat my symptoms. I think many doctors would have given up on me, or told me there is no hope. I am thankful he is not the kind of person to give up.
45. I love my husband. I know I whine sometimes, but I am married for life and I care for him.
46. I love wearing dresses and slip on high wedges or heels...I used to wear them a lot...haven't for a while. I am going to start again.
47. I love driving my new car. I know it isn't very environmentally friendly to say I like to drive...but I do. I love that my car is my space. I love to crank the music really loud. I like having the freedom I do when I drive. Before anyone gives me hell for driving...I have to drive because there are no buses where I live (I am a country girl). If I lived in the city I'd take the bus....but I'd still love to drive now and then. Also, my car is fuel efficient...That is why I bought a new car.
48. I absolutely adore my 8 mos old puppy; even if he has eaten and/or destroyed 3 pairs of eyeglasses, 2 large dog beds, numerous pairs of my shoes...only mine for some reason, a sex toy and pretty much anything left laying around. Despite all this "childish" behaviour he is so squeezable, lovable, loving, funny and did I say adorable? He is cute and makes me laugh at least once everyday. He gets me outside a few times a day too.
49. I love creating art; painting, drawing, mixed media and collage, printmaking, pottery, singing...I am a creative soul. I am so glad I found out how much I enjoyed art, and that I have a knack for it. What a blessing.
50. I love Nina Simone's voice and the songs she sings.

Helpless and Hopeless

(aqua, study in charcoal of a poppy/2005)

That helpless/hopeless feeling is setting in again. That sense that I am falling deeper and deeper into depression again and no matter what I do, or how much I struggle I remain intensely fatigued, depressed, apathetic, dissociative/depersonalized, confused, isolating and unable to sleep.

I want to hide out, in bed, in my back room with the curtains closed. I am so angry at myself for being this way. When my thoughts turn to angry depression I begin visualizing about ways and places and times to hang myself, suffocate myself...die. I feel like my life will never get back on track.

It takes all my energy to get going in the morning, even to take the dog for a short walk, or to write this post, and those are things I usually like to do. Everything seems like a chore: a dreaded chore. The real chores, housework, cooking etc. ,simply are not getting done and it is making me feel intensely guilty for not contributing to the running of our household, and my husband increasingly hostile towards my "laziness".

On top of feeling helpless/hopeless I had that same feeling of dread I had last week as I headed to teach my Youth Art Class Monday night. I tried to sleep all day in preparation for it, but just lay there awake wishing I didn't have to go. At 2: 00ish I dragged myself out of bed and went to class. When it began I felt myself becoming more social than I expected. At the same time I also felt it was harder than usual to do.

When I woke up Tuesday morning I wanted so badly to not go teach my drawing class that morning. I felt I just couldn't do it anymore. I feel overwhelmed with two classes and a puppy to look after. However, I pushed myself, because I committed to teach the class.

On my way to class, despite my exhaustion, apathy, and depression; I also felt an intense sense of ennui. That made me begin to thinking maybe I need to do more, not less, stimulating, "scheduled/regular", work like things everyday. Maybe my husband is right. Maybe I should get back to work.

If I am at home all I feel I can do is lay down,sleep, or watch t.v. If I am doing something work like at least, for a while, I get a sense of accomplishment, and my mood lifts while involved and distracted.

The problem is I cannot even manage to do what I want and/or need to do: like keep my house clean, cook, grocery shop, do household chores and even paint like I want to. How do I work more when I can't manage the little I do now?

I feel extremely frustrated by my lack of stability, by my not working, and by my not contributing. These all feed my bad mood and anger. I know that. I know I need to do more, but how?

Two More Paintings Completed

As some of you know I am painting 3; 12"x12" inch paintings for each of my nieces. It is great practice for me and I feel I am learning something about painting each painting I paint.

Each of my nieces chose a topic/topics and a colour theme. Purple and Zebras was the first.

My second niece (8 years old) asked me to paint a seal, a polar bear and a puffer fish and use "aquamarine" as the colour theme...(we are peas in a pod:>)...wish I was 8 again!!

Here are the "seal" and the "polar bear" paintings I finished for her:

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.

The Photographer in Me

July 2006, In memory of my Mom the summer following her death I planted dark flowers all over my deck; almost purple/black salvia, and deep purple heliotropes and I found this deep, dark colour of nasturtiums and planted them everywhere. My Mom absolutely loved nasturtiums and I absolutely loved my Mom. I love this photo. It feels so solitary, yet peaceful.

I have a thing for fungi. I love all the different kinds of mushrooms, toadstools, and fungus I find everywhere. You have to click on this image to make it huge to appreciate the beauty and perfection of these tiny fungi.

I took this in December last year (2007). I was walking my dog Bert in the blueberry field, as I turned the corner the sky in front of me turned black, but the sun shone intensely behind me. I ran all the way back to the house (few acres) to get my camera, because the light behind me was bouncing off the the white bark of the birch trees and they were almost glowing in front of the black sky. The dark and light intensified the red in the wintering blueberry bushes, and the green of the moss. It was not quite as dramatic by the time I made it back with my camera to take the picture, but I still love the contrast and intensity of the red and green.

This is a similar shot, and only a week or so later. I liked the contrast of the dark sky against the snow and again the intensity of the fiery red blueberry bushes.

In my photography I try to relay my spiritual connection to the natural world. Nature always astounds me with her variety, her perfection and the ingenuity with which she encourages and brings things to life, but also in the beautiful ways she assists in the process of death and decay; which itself becomes imperative for her process of renewal. She is pure poetry.

Today is My New Birthday

(Photo: by Aqua, "Transformation", August 2008)

In respect of, and to reinforce the powerful message, Wednesday's dream , "The Wolf Returns", sent me: Today I am changing my life. I am throwing away the old me and moving in a different direction. From this day forward I am reborn.

I will never feel any remorse or guilt over anything I did in the past. I accept that I did what I was able to do at the time. I will never again feel guilt for being depressed, or on disability for depression. I will accept that I did not cause this illness. It happened and all I can be expected to do is try to make myself feel better. I will also accept that sometimes my illness makes it difficult to do anything to help myself. During those times I will do whatever I CAN do to keep trying.

As of today here is the new me:

• I am a painter.
• I am an artist.
• I am a writer.
• I am an art teacher.
• I am a photographer.
• I am creative.
• I am disabled by my depression right now, but I am NOT my disability.
• I will accept my disability income as a blessing and a gift that allows me the opportunity to grow into the human being I am meant to become.
• I will be here today, and present now.
• I will not worry about tomorrow.
• I will soak up today.
• I will see all the beauty in the world, like a new child, through my new eyes.
• My life will be full of beauty, and I will recognize that.
• My new life will be full of love and I will pass that on.
• My new life will be full of compassion, for myself and for others.
• I will accept my mental illness as the catalyst, the mother and the origin of, my new and improved life.
• I will embrace my depression like a mother embraces a crying child. I will hold it, and care for it, and accept that the crying may pass, or it may not, but the crying child is always a beautiful being trying to express his or her needs to the world.

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.

Am I Forever Broken?

"How can you go so many years and not know you liked something so much?

My sister said those words to me yesterday when I was expressing how much joy I was getting out of conceptualizing, planning and painting the five paintings I have on the go right now and the others I have completed.

A comment Dr. Shock made on one of my past posts, about wanting to see my other art work, stimulated me to pull together and photograph an array of some of my early drawings from when I was learning to draw. I see so much progress and the switch into painting has increased my desire to create art tenfold.

How could I never have known I wanted to draw or paint? In university it was the pursuit of knowledge and that which was intellectually challenging that brought happiness and excitement into my life. I graduated with two degrees, one in Philosophy and one in English literature. My last 3 years of university were the best years of my adult life. To do well in both of those majors you had to love to read and write. I loved both. I never foresaw that it was the creative process, and not necessarily the intellectual process I may have been pursuing.

I am struggling now with how my love for art can fit into the life I want for myself. You may, or may not know I am on disability for my Major Depressve Disorder (MDD), and have been since early 2003. I really hate that I am on disability. It may be my Dad's voice that I have internalized, but I feel it is a societal voice as well. I feel I am not contributing, that I am using up precious resources, that I am a bad person for being unable to work.

I know that while I am having some good days my mood is extremely labile, and my anxiety is still not under control. For the past month or so I have felt better than I usually feel, but I am far from well. I also understand that the progress I have made is precarious and could topple with the slightest amount of pressure.

My pdoc has explained this to me, and even took the time to write me a note outlining why I am unable to work right now; a note I can read, and reread when I am feeling like I am today, when I feel guilty and unsure that I am doing the right thing. I have reread it today, but it is difficult for me to accept its contents.

What if I can never work? How am I going to deal with my negative self image for not working? Dr. X. keeps telling me I am working. He means all the work I am doing to try to become well, but also the volunteer work I am doing. I get that he is trying to make me see that work has many definitions; that work is not simply working for an organization for a twice monthly pay cheque. I get it, and I get that others need to step back from work to take care of themselves. I just cannot accept that for me. I define myself by what I do; by what I work at. I always have.

I want so badly to work again, but I know I cannot manage that yet. I can barely manage what I am doing right now: volunteering two half days a week. I feel exhausted after doing those things.

Also, I am not certain if anyone else is like this, but I am a "one thing a day" person right now. I can paint, or I can volunteer, or I can visit with someone, but I can't do them on the same day, and if I do those things I cannot manage to cook dinner or clean the house, or keep up with my domestic duties, actually even if I don't do those things I cannot manage the domestic stuff.

Will I ever get my life back? By that I mean will I ever be able to work a full time job, keep the house clean, go grocery shopping, mow the lawn, tend to the garden, help my husband on the farm, have a social life, have dinner parties every few weeks, and do continue working on and developing my art work? Will I ever be my old self?

Will I ever get my life back, or am I forever relegated to the sidelines; surviving and struggling so hard just to manage to complete, or sometimes just start, one thing a day?

Will I ever get my life back, or do I have to accept a new way of being. Has being this depressed for so long, and so often, destroyed my fortitude, my drive and my abilities? Has my depression and anxiety toppled the old me forever? I want to know what it is I am supposed to do. What is expected of me? What should I expect from myself? What does society expect of me? Does Dr. X. know what I can expect from my future? Does anyone else know?

I do know that I have an intense desire to paint and create. That is good, I have no formal training in art, I'm 43 I am certain I could not manage the stress of things like exams and essays.; the exams especially. I have too many problems with my memory and cognitive abilities. I feel so lost and so scared I will be stuck either on disability, or at a low paid, disatisfying job for the rest of my life. If the latter I know what will happen. I will spend all my time and energy trying to be the best low paid employee at "whatever company" , and all the things that bring joy to my life will be left undone and I will once again fall into severe depression and then I will be on disability at an even lower rate than I receive now.

I am stuck in a no win situation.

Zebra Mountains Painting

I just completed the first of three 12 x 12 paintings for one of my nieces. She just had her bedroom renovated and it is purple...what girl didn't go through a purple period??? When I was 24 almost every single piece of clothing I owned was purple, I painted my window frame purple. I was OBSESSED with purple.

Anyways, this painting is the beginning of a conceptual idea I had about honing in on the smaller picture. Taking pictures up so close that it is not readily apparent what they are. Well of course...with zebras that is kind of hard, and on top of that my sister wanted them to be purple

...so here is my first of three paintings and the pictures I edited to paint the picture from. I thought it might be cool for you to see the process. I took the zebras drinking water, cropped the picture so it looked like mountains (the zebras' backs, and then painted it using black, purple and a complimentary yellow instead of black, brown and tan:

Religion, Mysticism and Spirituality

This post is inspired by something my pdoc wrote, and also a discussion we had last week in my session. We were talking about spirituality and the difficulty many of us have (me included) with the dogmatic beliefs found in all kinds of religions and spiritual beliefs. Before I begin this post I would like to mention that I think whatever your spiritual beliefs are is certainly not an issue with me. I believe we all have the right to believe what ever it is we do.

I know for my Mom, her belief in God played a huge part in her allowing her to have both a better life and accept her particularly difficult death. Her belief in God strengthened her every step of the way. I am so happy she had God's love to turn to when she needed it. This post is not about telling anyone what is or is not right, or wrong. It is simply a post about my beliefs, lack of beliefs and struggle to believe in something beyond this one plane of existence and experience.

I am not sure what I believe. To me insisting there definitely is a God, or insisting there definitely is not a God are both impossible statements to prove. So for me both fundamentalism (in any religion) and atheism are equally difficult positions to logically hold. This does not mean either are not correct; simply that no one can prove either the existence or non-existence of God.

I would say I am agnostic but hopeful their is something beyond this existence. I really struggle with the idea that everything begins and ends here in the world we experience on a sensual level. I also have had so many experiences that point to something beyond the scientifically proven and accepted theories of evolution and existence. They happen too often for me to ignore them. Maybe there is some kind of mystical force running through our lives.

Believe me it is very difficult for me to say that last statement. I am vehemently opposed to believing things with no proof, but sometimes my experiences seem to be showing me the proof and I keep ignoring the messages. Maybe there are "instances" where people are connected to another plane of existence, or experience beyond the here and now. No I am not being delusional. I'm just trying to understand what I experience.

After last weeks session it happened again; something that felt like a communication had taken place between my sister and I with no words being spoken. My sisters, and my Mom when she was alive , seem particularly in sync with one another, despite living very far away from each other and not talking that often.

In my last session Dr. X asked me what I was working on with my paintings. I told him am working hard to develop a series of conceptual paintings based on extreme close ups of images, taken out of context. Anyways, as our conversation ended we somehow got onto the topic of "foresight"; the ability to see/know something before either it happens, or before you have any knowledge of it happening.

I was telling Dr. X. how it seems like too many things happen to me this way for me not to have some kind of foresight. The last thing he said to me before my session was up was, I do seem to have foresight and he has seen proof of it.

I have dreams that come real, especially about animals dying...which is awful. Years ago I dreamt my cat was drowning. I went outside at 4am in my rain gear and found him dead in a puddle at the side of the road. I dreamt about dead dogs laying in the ditch and woke to find my neighbours dog dead. I dreamt I would find my cat that had been lost for 8 months and told my husband in the morning to look for him...he laughed and told me I was out of my mind...but at 10:00 am I got a call saying he had found the cat, but under the shed. Unfortunately, he was dead.

Last week, when I came home from my appt, there was a message from my sister. I called her and she asked me if it would be possible to paint three paintings based on parts of zebras for my nieces newly decorated bedroom. She didn't want whole Zebras, but exactly the type of paintings I had been thinking about (I never told anyone before D. X). It was strangely familiar to have things happen magically right when I am thinking hard about them. I don't believe in this stuff, but it sure seems like something/someone wants me to.

My Paintings and Other Art

The image I based my 1st abstract on. It is a picture I took of a bunch of flower clippings in a bucket while I was deadheading flowers in the garden. I love the colours together.

The abstract based on the picture. The photo of the painting didn't turn out well because I should have taken a picture before adding a shiny gel coat...so the sheen distracts from the photo...but hey.

In my last post Dr. Shock mentioned he was curious about my other work. In fact, I just started learning to draw 4 or 5 years ago. I could only draw stick people before then. I have taken 3 continuing education drawing classes at the local Art University (Emily Carr School of Art and Design). So I do not have a lot of other work.

However, if I get the time I will search around and post some of my drawings. Oh...I just realized I have some linocut prints that I have done also, so I will add those too. And a piece of pottery I really like...(hey Dr. shock...you are making me realize I have done more art than I remembered)...Thanks.

I only began painting this March 2008 (this year). I took an acrylics course at the art clubhouse I belong to but, it was more for fun/socialization. Mostly I am learning the theories of painting, brushstrokes, colour mixing, etc on my own by looking at other's work both at the studio, and in Art magazines/books, or online.

My knowledge of drawing techniques is helping me. The last painting I posted was the last painting that is complete (actually I just realized I did my first abstract painting a couple months ago and didn't post it). I will do that right now.

I am currently working on five others right now, an abstract (24 x 24) based on the picture that inspired the one I am about to post (which is approx. 12 x 15) , a gigantic nasturtium that is an ode to my Mom, and is turning out to be so beautiful and three "conceptual" paintings (each 12 x 12) based on micro focusing on an object and patterning for my niece's newly decorated (purple) bedroom. I hope to have this series done this week. I will post them when done. (I am doing them in the colours she wants, but I want to do a similar series in more realistic colours and do them on larger (24 X 24) canvases...because I am liking the idea and how they are turning out.

Letting Go of the Past

In my session on Friday Dr. X. asked me what I was working on with my painting. Immediately, I felt intensely self conscious, fake, and that my art was trite and unworthy. I began to cry. I felt like a fraud with my art. I felt embarrassed by it, and by my ideas. Yet, while by myself painting, and when I look at my paintings alone, I feel an intense sense of accomplishment. I experience a sense that this is what I am supposed to be doing; the direction my life is meant to go in.

I think when I share something this valuable to me with Dr. X. I have a tendency to project my Dad onto him. Dr. X. instantaneously and magically BECOMES my father. I am unable to consciously recognize the person in front of me as the trustworthy, caring, interested and compassionate Dr. X. I cannot see him as the person who wants me to succeed. Dr. X. has left the building. My Dad is sitting in front of me.

I feel almost re-traumatized by the unconscious/subconscious fear that an extremely important person in my life will ridicule or dismiss my ideas. So when Dr. X asks me what I am doing with my art I become the child of an arrogant, egotistical, narcissistic tyrant. A Commander-in Chief who ordered me to listen. The all powerful authority figure who ridiculed, rejected and dismissed my ideas, my opinions and tried to slaughter my creative soul. The man who seemed almost obsessed with putting me in my place and proving he was right and I was wrong.

As a child I accepted he was right. It was me. I was wrong. I wasn't good, or smart, or good at anything. I was stupid, never paid attention and never listened. I believed this for so long that now, as an adult, I have forgotten how to be my own person without fearing I will make a mistake, or I won't be good enough, or I won't do well enough at anything I do, or I will embarrass myself, or my ideas really are stupid, or people will not like me. I will be rejected.

When I was a kid I wanted so badly to be involved with, and to please, my Dad. As a child I would wait , laying wide awake in bed; waiting to hear the late night news come on. I would sneak out and ask my Dad if I could watch it. We would sit on the couch together watching the news. This was the most important thing in the world to me. A sense of shared experience with my Dad. I would read the newspapers for the same reasons.

I did these things because I so desperately wanted to have something in common with my Dad. I wanted him to be proud of me, to be pleased with my seeking knowledge, to be able to talk with him about things. It never worked. If I tried to discuss something we watched together, or an article we both read it inevitably became an argument about why my perspectives were wrong and his were right.

I don't know why my Dad did this. I know he loved me, and I know he loves me, but he still does treats me and my ideas the same way. I love my Dad and I am trying really hard to let go of the past, but my past haunts me and slips unseen into so many areas of my life.

I forgive my Dad. I think he was probably treated that way by his parents. Also, being a policeman, and the "top down" military lifestyle life that type of job entails, would reinforce a sense of "authority" and "correctness" in anyone doing those kinds of jobs. He was a product of his environment. On top of that, there are no perfect manuals for being a good parent and the 60's and 70's child rearing mores were much different than today's. I can forgive, but my body and mind cannot forget.

I still react the same way to certain circumstances as I did when I was a child. I want to please all men, all authority figures, anyone who remotely has any control or authority over me no matter how tenuous the connection to their being an "authority figure" is. I am afraid of, and go out of my way to reconcile my opinions with, anyone who disagrees with me or anyone who has the potential to hurt me. I react with fear, terror, anxiety, and sometimes panic when someone, anyone, invades my personal space, or physically intimidates me or threatens me.

Obviously, given how I sometimes project my Dad onto my kind pdoc, I often react this way in situations that do not warrant such a reaction. This is when the therapeutic moments between myself and Dr. X are the most powerful. When the Dr. X, and a I are involved in a discussion or situation in my appointment that causes me to have such a severe reaction, I need to, and/or he needs to help me, recognize that these are the times to take note and to back up, examine my reaction and start again.

As he asked me about my art and I began to cry, I expressed how I was afraid my art was trite and unworthy. He spoke up and asked me to examine what I had said. As I sat there crying and feeling ashamed I was suddenly reminded of who was sitting in front of me. I remembered he is supportive, not dismissive. He is nurturing and interested in what I am doing, not judgemental. Almost instantaneously I began sharing my new ideas. I heard the excitement in my voice. I felt the joy of sharing something I cared about with someone who wanted to know. I felt one tiny step closer to letting go of my past and learning to be proud of my future.

Death Anxiety

Aqua, "Destination Unknown" (linocut 1/5) 2007

Me: (Among a list of other things) "I have been sleeping a lot. I'm not sure if it's because I am tired or I just can't face doing things. I feel like I just don't want to do anything, or I have too much to get done and it's overwhelming. I can't face all the things I have to do, so all I want to do is sleep."

Dr. X: "Tell me your list of things you want to accomplish."

Me: (Completely misinterpreting "why" he is asking this question, because all I am worried about is losing him) "Why? Is this so if I need to be seen by someone else they will have a list of all the things I need to work on? So, they will know what I need to address in therapy?"

Dr. X: (Looking really perplexed, but trying hard to hide that) "No, you just said you were sleeping a lot to avoid things, or because you were avoiding getting things done. I was wondering what those things were."

Me: "Oh! Getting a job!"

Dr. X.: "You have a job. (referring to my volunteer work)"

Me: "I mean a job where I get paid; where I stop being a drain on the social services system; where I can take care of myself; where I don't rely on anyone else. All I ever heard from my Dad when I was growing up was how awful "those" people were (Hippies, the unemployed, anyone who wasn't working and paying there own way, anyone who needed help from anyone else). I have internalized my Dad. On top of that all I'm hearing from him and my one sister right now is do more and you will feel better, or (from my Dad) Why don't you get a job? A "real" job. Get it together."

Dr. X. "You are working at a real job. The system sets it up so you cannot win one way or the other. Maybe the Art Clubhouse should pay you a higher wage, so it would be seen more as work and more valuable by you and by others, where it could help support you. The big thing here though is your internalization of your Dad's criticism."

Me: (Feeling cared for and supported by Dr. X, but dejected; like I will never be a valuable human being). "I know. I am doing things that are important to me. If I worked for $10/hr doing something I felt was meaningless or purposeless I know I'd be even more depressed. I just never thought I would end up like this. I always thought I would move up the ladder in life (always moving forward, getting better jobs, getting ahead). I never expected to be on disability, to not be working, or to be unwell. I always thought I would do something with my life."

Dr. X: Silent (His specialty: a safe, reflective silence...like he is when he waits for me to figure out for myself that I am not thinking clearly)

Me: "I guess it is like the print I made for you last year..."Destination Unknown". (Thinking to myself how making that print for Dr. X may have been eerily full of the bizarre sense of magical foresight I seem to have sometimes. I made it to represent my struggle and how it is taking me in directions I never expected; and often didn't want, to go, but he clearly sits on that same bus with me now...that I never expected).

I was driven to make that print for him. I felt I had to give it to him. I messed it up so many times and did it over and over until it came out right. An intense dream created the metaphor of a bus taking me in an unexpected direction; I added the Raven; a trickster figure. He is devising, overseeing and fully intending whatever outcome occurs.

None of us knows which way our lives are headed. None of us can foresee the outcome. We are all on that bus whose destination is unknown. That scares the hell out of me.

Recurring Nightmare

My latest painting. I have no title yet. It represents a nightmare I have over and over again, where I am being chased through the woods and some kind of post apocolyptic landscape full of broken down buildings and homes, tons of rubble and cement everywhere.

I run, and I run all the while screaming help me, help me! My husband and Dad stand off at the side and watch. No one tries to help me.

Finally, in desperation I climb up onto a big peice of cement to try to save myself, but I fall. The wolf is snarling and on top of me. He is foaming at the mouth and he is about to bite my head or neck and I always wake up at this point absolutely terrified.

When I wake I can't tell if it was a dream, or real. Usually I have to go to the bathroom upon waking, but I am too scared to get out of bed. It usually takes me a couple minutes or more before I calm down, realize it is a dream and am able to climb out of bed.

"Ripe"

My latest painting is based on this photo I took of an iris in my garden:

Here is my Painting:

(The painting is actually more purple than blue, not sure why the photo of it looks so blue...maybe blue is my destiny:>(

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

Fatigue and Isolation and Anxiety

All I want to do is hide out and crawl into bed. I feel so tired I feel literally sick. The tiredness is not "sleepy" tired, but rather, "exhausted" tired, like I cannot move and have no energy reserves to do anything. I pushed myself to paint on Monday for an hour or two, but it took every ounce of willpower to do that, Yesterday I went to the Art Clubhouse for a meeting, again only by exerting my will over my desire to hide out at home.

It is strange, I do not want to see, or contact anyone; I am not picking up the phone, or returning calls and I hide behind call display and feel dread at the thought of having to call people back. On the other hand if I push myself out of the house to go to the studio, it is like I get energy from other people. The problem is when the contact is finished I feel even more exhausted than before. It is as though I vicariously absorb all the energy from people around me, but when I touch the door to leave it is really apparent that I have pushed myself to hard to be up and energetic FOR other people. After the interaction I feel even more sickly fatigued.

Today I am forced out of the house as I have committed to volunteer at the studio this afternoon. I know in my role I am expected to be welcoming, available and helpful. All I really want is to stay home, or go there and hide out in my own little world.

Tomorrow is the beginning of the next set of drawing classes I volunteer to teach at the studio. I feel dread about tomorrow. I am really afraid I will not be what people need me to be. I think part of that is because I have no formal art training. I feel like a fraud; someone who got this amazing volunteer position, but really is not qualified to teach what I teach. I am always afraid someone in my class will call me on that and then everyone will make fun of me and than I will die of embarrassment from the ridicule.

"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.

Letting People In

Here is my latest painting.

I haven't quite decided what to call it, but I am leaning towards "A Green Burial". It is a cross-section of a river and the land beside and underneath it. Your perspective would be that of a person standing in the middle of the river; somehow seeing both below and above the surface of the river; like a plate of glass was stopping the water and the land and you were viewing it as though it were a display in a museum.

I'm not quite done the picture as I want to change a couple things, but I thought I'd share anyways, because it is mostly complete. It is a bit deeper than it looks as I cut some of the bottom off because my name was on it, but that blue running along the bottom is an underground stream and there is probably another 1.5 inches along the bottom. The painting is approximately 24 inches by 36 inches.

That is not really what I wanted to write about today, but sharing this painting with you runs along the same themes of today's post: Those themes being allowing others in, letting people know me, challenging my feelings of inadequacy and my fears of embarrassing myself, and taking chances in order to meet and get to know new people.

First I want to welcome "E" here if she visits my site. I do not generally share my blog site with people I know in the real world (vs. the cyber world), but today I took a chance and gave her this blog's address. I haven't seen her in a long time and it was good to talk with her today. We both share a love of art and writing, and from my brief conversations with her it seems we both struggle with some of the same issues. Anyways, other than my friend "H", and of course on Friday, Dr. X. I have kept this part of my life very private.

I am hoping that sharing myself with others, letting people in, letting people see the real me, will do a few things:

1. It will help me learn to take chances with people. Learn to open up and share, despite being afraid I will be a burden on others, or I will scare others, or frighten, or repel others


2. It will be practice sharing myself with others even if I am unsure how others will react to me. This is like taking a behavioural approach to my intense fears of embarrassing myself.

Up to now this blog was fairly safe from that because of two things: I do not REALLY know the people reading my blog (although I have supportive online acquaintances and friends...and I thank each of you for your support)...so I think if I did become extremely embarrassed about something I said, or did, there is a sense that I have some distance, or I am not as invested in how someone I have never met reacts to me. Also, While I can walk away from my blog if I become devastatingly shy, or embarrassed, or ashamed, I will still see the people who I know personally and have shared the site with.

I guess what I am trying to say is I am practicing being the real me, in the real world...all the good, bad, mad, sad, up, down me there is. I'm taking chances and hoping it will build and strengthen my relationships with the people I know, in spite of being really fearful that I am leaving myself too open and vulnerable.

So, "E" if you came to visit today, welcome. I hope I do not scare you away with my openness. I also hope we can meet for tea or coffee one day soon. I really enjoyed talking with you today.