Medium Experiments

The swirls of smoked and fractured images that flit around your brain congeal becoming … creativity. Maybe? On the other hand it might just dissipate  in the bloke of an eye. Normally I attempt [I use this word because it never seems to happen] to hold on to that spark until I’m home and I can write, sketch, or build something. 

Typically my creative juices exit my brain in the form of writing, random sketches, and building things from wood [like a TV stand]. In general, I become overwhelmed by a feeling and am driven to get it out of my head. Preoccupying my hands with creative works have been my go-to method of drowning out the demons I try to hide. 

They creep and dart out of the tiny boxes that I have neatly labeled “Don’t EVER Open!”. The havoc that ensues is almost crippling. Focusing on those demons has and will put me out for the count … and that is where my creativity has come in to save me [sigh of relief]. Some how using my hands and creating something helps corral these things I can’t face back into their boxes. 

That overwhelming panick that starts to well up from the depths of your stomach when you actually come face to face with these shadows. That one that paralyzes you in a fraction of a second. Well … it’s has happened … now what. 

Pen and paper, paint, blog, clay, basically any blank canvas I can get into my hands could not happen fast enough. I turn my brain off and let the emotions and my hands take over. Shades or grey pour from my finger tips. Slowly dragging the kicking and screaming shadows to an abrupt halt. I don’t attempt to comprehend why there is never much more than the full grey hues … charcole sketches and such dismal pieces. 

I look down once my head is empty and most of the time all I see is dreary dark images [which I rarely show anyone, I’m just hypercritical of my own stuff]. As of late though I have had less and less inky with vibrant splashes of fuchsia and cerulean. I am increasingly becoming more fond of my works and showing them off. 

Where is all of this coming from?? My mind has not been splashed with colors in a while. Is this happy creativity? I understand that my style leans more towards the morbid and shadowy but this is interesting… 

I have been noting myself lost in a lot more childish grins … you know the kind those grins that people stop and ask ‘whatcha doin?’ … and I’m enjoying looking like a love struck fool. 

You know love struck fool might just be the line that I’m actually toeing at the moment. It’s an oddly frightening and exhasparated feeling that knocks me off balance. Out of this stasis that I have become so despite to uphold. This coping mechanism alows for me to ignore anything that isn’t directly adjacent to my wants and goals. This current mode in which I am operating is the complete antithesis of the platform I used to stand on.

Taking this into account am I happier one way or another? They are definitely different. One is almost a happiness via ignorance and the other… well the other one I can’t define it is more of a gut feeling, intuition like happiness. I think … maybe know that this is part of the reason there has been a shift in my creative drive. That ‘happy’ force driving me to not just expel bad thoughts but also capture good ones. 

Although I am still shy about sharing my work this goofy, love-struck, star-gazed feeling has pushed me to be more bold and even posting my own work for this blog. I cannot even begin to stress how much I want to keep a tight grip on this emotion, this situation, this person. 

I could not be happier with that strong anvil that I’ve found. 

 
Best of love when falling … WanderBlind
Follow me and all my stumbles, falls, and dusting offs!

Dreaming to Sadness

… the sun is warming your face. There is a humming in the background that you just can’t place. Slowly your pry your eyes open and see a smiling face, you know… the one you really want to see. For what feels like an eternity that smile is all you see. But then you blink, and everything else comes into focus. [Shit] Looking around you are in a living room chatting with quite a few people, including the smile. It takes a few seconds to blink in the surrounding faces… and it’s not exactly the most comfortable place to be in. You coming to the realization that the smile is not meant for you but the other sitting there. All the while you plaster a fux-smile across your face. Then the other shoe drops and everything fractures and goes sideways …

Shit! Oh shit! You jolt up right and your cheeks mosten. Crap that was a dream!! What in the world. I roll over… ugh it’s 3:00am. What do I do now. I really need to sleep. Man oh man that dream was rough though. I don’t want to cop to the fact that I woke up crying … but I did. My stomach is deep down in a pit. God I don’t want to try and go to bed, I know I am going to relive this dream over and over again tonight. I close my eyes and struggle to push those images out of my brain. Crap … why is this so hard! These images are tiny rotten pits that festers and then sprouts.

This new shoot is gnarled and thorny. Close my eyes and try to tip toe around this thing. I get snagged, entwined, and bloodied. There is nothing I can do. My lids are so heavy [its 3:05am now] I need to sleep… I can’t fight this anymore. This is going to be an ugly tangled dream now.

… that room is so brightly lit those faces are still fuzzy and etch-a-sketched. That brilliant smile is directed at me, I think. No, No its pointed at the face next to me. My stomach aches, what is this ache? Who are these people? That fuzziness starts to clear, oh I know you. Oh god … and you. Chit chat. Chit chat. Chit chat. Behind me, somewhere distant like a memory, there is a door creek and another sketch set of pearly whites. Hell no! This is the worst person possible. God no. I blink and my world crumbles around me. Everything comes crashing down. Those faces are now smirks laughing and jaunting …

Stark white, dripping sweat, and crying I sit straight up. What has gotten into my head? What in the world does this mean? Is my brain really this sick and demented? I really really hope not. My brain cannot be that terrible. I cannot be that twisted and [for lack of a better word] this fucked up in my head!

I really hope that this isn’t a dream I relive … I can’t live this again. I just can’t.

Best of love when falling … WanderBlind

Follow me and all my stumbles, falls, and dusting offs!

Oddly Quiet [period]

“That is not the most kosher …” or “Go for it! Know one will know!” we all have those tiny high pitch voice in the back of our heads. Some say that its a dichotomy of good and evil, angel and devil, or right and wrong. So what happens when those voices disintegrate into nothingness? Instead of that constant nagging you could hear a pin drop. The silence is deafening and all together terrifying.

They are gone. Those voices, the ones you are just so accustom to bickering with are silent. [Shit] What happens when that little voice in your head stops talking to you? I am still at a loss for describing this feeling. Those voices, or forces if you want the less psychotic theory, have stopped yelling about what is right and wrong. They are just gone! Your shoulders are weightless. Those itty-bitty figures have jumped ship and you are all alone.

… Ok, hold on. Do I really believe that there are two dichotomous forces that stere me one direction or the other? You know I can’t answer that. At times small voices, instincts … you know, I don’t really have a theory of what they are … they lead your decisions in a way that you would least expect. This is the most accurate depiction of my own. They fight and bicker. Secretly I think they just like to see me weaving in all directions trying to stabilize …

Anyhow, back to my ultimate question, what happens now? The crickets are melodically playing in there place. I can hear the pin drop in my own mind when I pull it from the grenade that I am tossing around. [Honestly what the hell am I doing?] My logical brain knows the devastation that is about to rain down around me, let alone what it is going to do to me. So where is that tiny driving force that sends me diving after the pin to stuff back in its safety position. I am not even sweating. My hands are steady …

well shit here we go.

I jackknife into this situation with minimal grace. [I haven’t quite figured that part out yet.] You know, just like you did when you were an excited kid at the pool for the first time that summer. Well thats what is happening right now. There are no lifeguards, no rules, and I can have exactly what I want. My decisions seem to be following more of a down tumbling stream of lust. No, I do not mean lust in the sexual way, more in the manner that if I see it and want it… I will have it. I can vaguely associate myself to a two year old.

I have starting doing more things that I never thought that I would. Some good some well … socially frowned upon. Yes along with the good things [working out, eating more, planning trips to Europe] I can admit that some of the activities and wants are less than socially desired. No, I am not breaking any laws or hurting someone. However, I am doing things that are looked down on. The things that we all secretly want but scold ourselves when we contemplate them. I have plenty of interesting details … that I will be keeping to myself [sorry] on some of my choices. However, on things that aline with my creativity and my outlook well I will gladly dish.

With those pesky right vs. wrong forces eradicated I have been finding myself caring less and less. Those things that I had to do or have in the past just seem … trivial now. I stick up more for myself. I don’t allow myself to get steam rolled at work. I have an overall air of confidence that I haven’t had before. I think this is mainly because I have always been self-conscious about what others will think of me and my choices. Basically, I am done taking other peoples crap and I am doing the things that make me happy.

Will some of these happy endings have additional tragic chapters? Oh you can bet your ass they will. However, I don’t want to be that analytical critic of myself anymore. That never led to anything good … it just ended with me depressed and in bed. I find that I smile more and feel more comfortable if I am sitting still and just pondering the sony lyrics rolling around my ears.

The pit fall, that I know is coming, of when this ends is mildly making me nervous. However, I am going to grab a busted door and ride this tidal wave in. I want to see where it gets me. For once in my life I really want to enjoy the ride, not just the destination. Let’s see how this plays out. Fingers crossed I am able to stay out of my Empty Corner of depression.

Best of love when falling … WanderBlind

Follow me and all my stumbles, falls, and dusting offs!

Happy? Happiness? I’m confused.

During numerous occasions the fleeting feelings of euphoria leaves an all too normal taste of disdain within my flushed face. There a so few true moments of happiness that I find in my life. I have attempted to modify my affect in attempts to become more embracing. However, my emotional barriers appear to be greater than a canyon’s walls. I find that my endeavor to grasp onto ‘happy’ creates more turmoil than good. What I mean by this is that grasping happiness seems to be similar to firmly holding on to sand. This supposed normal feeling runs through my tightly clinched fingers. Sometimes faster than water. The most circumventing part is that I keep attempting to change the outcome. Isn’t that what they call insanity? Please do not skew what I am saying. I want to be happy I really truly do. What I am talking about is the tireless reluctance that happiness wants to stay with me. Yes, I am aware that this is a bizarre thought but look at the pattern. I find happiness in oddities. Peculiarities that spark my interest and make me think ‘Look at that. That minuscule quirky thing that no one else would think twice about.’ Yes, that tiny eccentric spray can sketch of … you know it doesn’t even matter what it depicts. I find enjoyment in the idiosyncrasy of the world. Minute details that most miss or the grand-scheme-of-things that others take for granted. Secluding my enjoyment from those around me. On occasion I feel the urge to experience these with others. Then, however, they shrug and continue on their business. These peculiarities swim by like a passing mini van with a small child waving at you as they zoom by. For a brief minute joy floods my senses and I feel the plausibility of internalizing this feeling. However, the glow leaves and reality smacks me back into indifference. That fuzzy gray area where you’re neither happy nor sad. You are just … being. This is a struggle for me. I find security and familiarity within that blasé area. The calming void mellows me and inevitably grounds me. Why would I aggravate my comfort by attempting to crawl out of my box into happiness?? This has become a concern of mine that fluidly percolates within my head most nights. I believe that this will be an eternal quarry of struggle and strife for me. I do have an understanding that at a fundamental level myself, along with most, strive to find happiness within myself, my surroundings, and my overall status. The clash comes from how to obtain this intangible and even more questioned is how to keep it hostage. Hostage might not be the correct term; more along the lines of a ‘resident’. Either one really. I have contemplated this on repeat for an uncountable amount of time. ‘Maybe if I assert an outward appearance of happiness then I will finally feel that way.’ I have had this thought many times. You know, the whole fake-it till you make-it adage. On multiple occasions I have put this ideal into practice I fooled many of those in my life. However, I have never truly been able to keep the happiness that I exude. Inevitably I become a more enthusiastic actress. The hurdle I face with this ever turning cycle is never fool myself long enough to encourage a pattern. People as a whole are creatures of habit. Breaking a pattern is not the only struggle, keeping in toe with a new ‘normal’ tops the struggle with a cherry. My new ‘normal’ drones on day after day until I find the monotonous tone distracts me from my goal and I go off course. I hear all the time from people that you find happiness when you aren’t looking or it comes when you stop trying and just live. Hey… I do live. I have an amazing drive, love and respect for an uncountable number of aspects. I somewhat take offense to the statements of ‘oh well just live’ … if you’re making these recommendations then what have I been doing for the last 27 years of my life? I trust that life is a myriad if missed opportunities, mistakes, fights, depression, and an occasional happy trend. I literally associate this with a scientific trend. There are air of dips and outliers that if you look at that point would indicate disaster. However as a whole the pattern trends in a positive direction. With all that I have allowed to trickle out of my fingertips, I would be silly not to consider a new stance on happiness. I feel a mild bubbling up of contentment. You know what. I’ve made a decision … it is time to take the ebb and flow of life with a grain of sand, with the understanding that happy is not always going to be the motion of the day. Best of love when falling … WanderBlind Follow me and all my stumbles, falls, and dusting offs!

Empty Corner

The malls have begun to bustle with a fluid crowd of consumers returning gifts that are ill fitted, unwanted, or just unneeded. The blacktop paved avenues seem to constantly be battered with the numerous rolling caravans. Families flock to and from bundling up tidings of farewell and prosperity over the impending calendar. Still … sullen and desolated feelings build up.

Fuzzy feelings of familial endearment are what is expected. Fond memories of jolly old elves, carefully crafted precipitation angels, and the spin chill of frosted rain on your tongue. The lingering feeling of holiday festivus should be built up within us all. The holiday joy practically oozes forth from the finger tips of all those in woolly mittens.

So where is my sugar plum delirium? Shadowy depths of my secluded corner is where I reside at this time. I feel off kilter with most of those around me. Aside from my family I feel like I come from a different planet.

I feel abandoned in a murky gray fog. Cut off from humanity…. every year, why?

Like clockwork as the chill on the whispering wind sets in so does the gloom and despair. Amidst the glimmer of the golden orb somewhere near the palms in the park the sun seems dull. You know… like a lightbulb that is blinking out or just not screwed in tightly enough. I’ve done things, lots of tedium, in attempt to burnish that daily glow.

The feculence that resides within the cracks and crevices of my hands only smear the darkness around. Barricading the healing rays from my corner. This Cimmerian shade has become my friend via that eldest of axioms ‘keep your friends close but you’re enemies closer’.

Creeping inwards from the walled edges, ghostly hands seem to reach at me. Passing though my body gasping my sullen soul. They seem to wrench and rip my conscience from the depths of my bones. As much as I strain to keep what makes me… well me… its like holding water in my hands. It endlessly pours from the tiny cracks betwixt my digits. I have labored over this version of myself tirelessly and it seems to currently be adrift.

What is it about this season that drives this newest onset depression. Yes. Yes, I used that life devastating verbiage with complete honesty. I have depression. At a point I thought that it treaded more along the lines of seasonal affective disorder… but I now live in a sunny vacation destination. Thus, I have resided in the fact that this obscurity that comes in waves is the truest definition of depression.

I can acknowledge myself to be a psychology nerd [with my BA in psychology and striving to become a psychologist] with decent knowledge of the disorder at hand. However, no matter how much information I digest about this topic describing my personal depression is my most ambitious goal. The one constant that is true amongst those with depression, diagnosed or not, is that it is immensely individual.

My depression manifests itself most times as a shackle to my bed. The lack of motivation is as steadfast as super glue. I pull away from those I trust and love. It makes regaining a footing extremely burdensome.

I am extremely lucky in the fact that I have an excessively understanding family structure… we all struggle with depression. When I trip into a cycle of depression they are always standing by to offer support. Friends however, mostly vanish. For which I can not blame them. A depressive friend is becomes sullen, withdrawn, and completely unrecognizable.

As I began to dive into my depressive cycle I stumbled across a post that really resonated with me. A fellow depression sufferer who seems to have experienced the similarity of abandonment. Friends flee based on the fact that their words escape them. Inevitably apologies flood in at arms length from faces that seem to be phantoms of the past. I too have felt the hollowness of these types of acts. Friendships fade, oblivious people around suggest that venturing out will improve my mood, and those rare charitable few stay and awkwardly converse with me.

Karenzai from the blog Under Construction [<– click for the article], was absolutely correct by saying “And one thing I’ve come to realize over a few cycles of depression is this: depressed people don’t need you to empathize; they just need you.”. I whole heartedly agree with her. No matter what you know, how smart you are, how social you are, how much success you have, or if you are qualified… everyone is capable of being there for someone who is struggling with their depression.

I have to say thank you to Karenzai. Not only did this article help me actually look for someone’s hand to hold in my own darkness. It also concreted the concept that some people aren’t meant to stay in my life. I loved all… ok let me be honest I loved most… of the people that I have had come in and out of my life. For a lot of my life I have distressed over the fact of loosing people in my life. Now I come to the realization that mostly it is not my fault.

Yes, I have depression, and yes I know that fact can make it difficult to be my friend. However, there are constants who stay in my life. I unequivocally love and adore them for baring with me and holding onto my hand as I fumble with my internal darkness. I thank those who have been there for me irregardless of my issues from the bottom of my heart.

For those of you who are struggling with depression remember that you are not alone. Those around you quite possibly have never had any experience with depression and some will sadly disappear. Remember that it is not you driving away those you know. One of the biggest obstacles that I have faced with depression and urge you to realize faster than I is that depression makes you want to run and hide. It makes you adore the seclusion that comes as you cope with this round of depression. However, I have found that asking for someone to be there to hold your hand can vastly improve your abilities to rebound.

For those of you who know some one who is suffering from depression know that you DO NOT have to know the correct things to say or have all of the answers. The best thing that you can do for someone you love with depression is just be there for them. In all likelihood they will not talk to you about their own depression. However, any type of talking is a huge help for most of us sufferers.

No, I do not claim that having someone by your side will immediately snap you back into a normalish life. I am claiming that in most cases it helps lessen the destruction that is depression. 

**Important Note**  Signs of depression manifest in a multitude of personal ways such as: seclusion, lack of daily hygiene, altered mood, lack of interest, and many more. If you have questions please visit National Institute of Mental Health if you want me information. 

Shattering or Mending? (3 of 3)

So… I know this is a quick turnaround but events happened at a much faster pace than anticipated.

What I can tell you right off the bat is that my breath has been stollen. My stomach has dropped out of my midsection and into a pit. You know that feeling where you just went whightless on a terrifying roller coaster…

My stomach is now gone, and the brackish ‘water’ begins to fill my lungs.

… Oh god I’m drowning in my own tears.

[Sigh] This is going to be awful.

[Full disclosure… I’ve picked this up and put it down about thirteen times this week. I just can’t seem to bring myself to write this.]

The current situation I have precariously stumbled into has me sputtering on my own pungent tears. In fact, the inhalation of my crying is jolting me into fighting. No longer am I wallowing in my old sentiment. However, I’ve been tossed into an immense struggle.

I am now flailing around desperately grabbing at anything that has some attachment. Something that will stunt my tumble down this ever turbulent stream. Honestly though, there is not much around. There is only silt near the bottom that flows out of my fingers as fast as I can grab onto it, or the raging white rapids near the surface. What do I do? No… really what am I even able to accomplish admits this rip current?

Unfortunately, as much as I want to claim the fault in another, it really is chiefly my own doing. I stumbled back into a trap of a situation where there was only one logical outcome. That being the total, eclipsing, destruction of my emotional stability. I have struggled so deeply within myself to claim control of myself and emotions… but now all of that is in the wind. My only ambition now is to treat that control as dandelion seeds. You know, the kind that you gently blow on and the fluffy grains float away on the wind.

Close my eyes… hold that dandelion up to the sky… make a wish… and send those seeds adrift.

No, No. I am not wishing for a Prince Charming [even though this is in the sections ‘Broken Hearts’]. As a psychology major, lover, and believer I am aware that Disney has no real sensibility. I search for something more sturdy. Something that has roots to something meaningful. Something that I can build upon and make something of my own.

I look up… and there is my saving grace. A hand has plunged into the chilly depths and is reaching for mine. The tingle that races into my frostbitten extremities from the first touch of a finger tip not only reminds me that there is more than the stream that is overrunning me. I have hope. There is this bright glimmer of optimism within my soul now. Who is this person? How did they discern where I was? I can’t wait to meet them to find out more about my savior.

Im sputtering and gasping for air. For a few minutes there is nothing but aspirating of my lungs. Blinking the salt from my eyes I peer around for the one who has pulled me out. I want to thank them in the most frankness that I can muster. No one is there. There is a lack of footprints. There is no evidence of someone disturbing the stream. In fact… that white water rapid has mellowed out into a placid, glass like pool. What in the world is going on!

Looking into the pool, water dribbles off my face disturbing with multiplying ringlets. The concentric circles slowly come to a stand still… and what I see astounds me. I am not only looking at my own reflection. But I am looking at a polished, put together, and most importantly a dry self! Rationalizing this might be more difficult than getting out of the rapids.

Why is there no one else around? Why am I dripping wet but my reflection is polished and dry!! This one is going to take some cerebration. Maybe I am not really supposed to understand. Maybe like before the microscopic view that I had is now limiting my understanding. So what do I take away from this? Who saved me? Do I chalk this up to pure fate?

….

Honestly, I have spent the last few days contemplating how to take this situation. Ultimately, I have decided that I rescued myself. That I need to not only thank myself but also look up to myself more often.

This is a new but extremely trying idea for me. That whole saying ‘you can’t love someone else before you love yourself’ came to mind when I was weighing this situation. In this context I feel that there is a lot of truth to it, no matter how cheesy. So what now? Did I just turn my ‘Broken Hearts’ love page into a self love page?

… hum this is going to take considerably more thought. Lets see how it turns out.

Best of love when falling … WanderBlind

Follow me and all my stumbles, falls, and dusting offs!