So…I bore easily. Really, REALLY easily and art has always been the way I daydream. It allowed me to create whole worlds and explore trains of thought otherwise denied to me. I couldn’t imagine NOT having the ability; it is my mutant power after all.
But I did lose it. Which should have been a sign that I’d lost myself as well, but I didn’t notice in the mess that my sanity was becoming. In the end I lost everything I cared about and did some inpatient time in a mental care facility.
Yeah, not my best moment. But it doesn’t even make the top ten list, so no worries.
One of the things that they offered me, besides a lot of pills, was a chance to draw. They were stunned at what I could do; so was I, having almost completely forgotten. By degrees, I rebuilt me. By hand.
You could say art saved me. I regained my sense of self. Accepted a new role with my family. Got a new job. I turned it around.
Art was there when I was down and out. Now I draw everyday. I have customers, which I still find weird, hahaha. I’m content.
No happy ending. But my happy place is only a thought away.
So… I’ve acknowledged the fact that there’s one person who can totally knock me off my game. It’s a little sad, but it kept me from being as content as I try to be. So I drew this spontaneously while watching a Star Trek commercial…
I was actually surprised at how well it turned out. The values were added first, followed by coloring. A lot of the time my mind wasn’t fully on it and I really had to concentrate to stay on task.
The good news is that I got through it. The better newsis that I got through it. I hate being at the mercy of something like this. But if you’re trying to control life, it will hurt you. So I ride my lows, stay calm in highs and try to find comfort in the middle. Contentment.
So I received a reminder of the difference between old and new me. A guy whose arm I purposely broke about 11 years ago came into Panera Sunday. Yes you read right; I pinned him down and applied leverage force on his upper arm until it broke. On purpose.
He’d just gotten out of church and his family was with him. Father’s day. He seemed so happy and then he looked over and saw me. Did you know black people can lose color? It’s true.
I motioned for him to come over, not really expecting him to do so. When he did, I had no idea what I would say to
him. He was dealing drugs, acting out and being a fool in general. Until he ran into me, he had no idea how much trouble he was in. He told me that I set him on a path that led him home and back into church. He THANKED me.
I sat there flabbergasted.
I told him that I had lost everything soon after. That I’d finally gotten counselling. Inpatient stay. Cancer. Divorce. That I had to accept all of it. Then I laughed and told him we were each other’s crossroads to becoming better people.
So I told him I was truly sorry. He asked if I’d come with him to service next Sunday and I said no. I accept my fate. I’m a warrior disguised as an artist. I thrive in conflict and suffer in peace. The best I could hope for was to die fighting the good fight. And now….