I had a pretty decent weekend. It started out with a quiet Friday, something I truly needed. Saturday I decided to go sit in my local Starbucks and draw a little.
It usually takes me a few days to become more neutral in my thinking. This can usually turn up in my art. I start making pictures of faces that are not so much “happy”; more like, relaxed.
That’s sort of what I was going for here. No stress, just a tranquil look.
I feel like I did a decent job.
Of course, there were a few people (and at least one baby 😊) that took an interest in my work. One young lady even wanted to buy a print of one of my pieces!
I sent her to my page lionbrowneyes and offered to draw her as well. She happily agreed.
I was so motivated that I ended up creating another while talking to people around me. THAT was new! I hadn’t had to do it in awhile. But in the end I felt better for having done so.
So I had a nice, calm day. I didn’t think about any problems or concerns. I just commited to relaxing.
I’m not well right now. I can’t really seem to stop crying and I thought drawing something would make me feel better.
Maybe if I could stop having nightmares. Maybe if I could clear my memory. Maybe if I could me and not a ghost of me.
That’s the REAL problem. I feel like there are two of me and one is happy and the other is me. And this pain in my chest in my head in every part of me is something I need to let go, but I can’t. I can’t.
Isn’t that what a ghost is? A spirit that can’t let go?
So how do I REALLY know that I’m alive? Is it this pain? Am I supposed to feel this from now on? What if I can’t. I get so tired from it, but it’s all I know somedays. I live between pain and nothing.
I can’t let go of my family. I’ve tried. But it feels as though my arm is being slowly torn off. There’s just a few strips of muscle, bone and sinew but I can’t take anymore pain. So I stop.
Crying when you don’t want to. Panic attacks. Laughing jags. I’m trying to be strong. I’m trying to trick myself into breathing, but it’s not always easy. I can only draw when I am unhappy.
I want to be numb again. But sometimes I can’t tell if I’m alive and I’m scared that I’m not. I’m scared that I’m not with my family because I can’t be.
I’m not going back to the hospital. I’m not done fighting. I’m just tired.