When depression becomes real...

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Deviation Actions

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7/13 - Soooo ...I haven’t discussed this here yet. Yes *head down* hurl rocks at me, my journals are so random these days. I swear it’s not a lack of interest on my part, but more like a serious lack of internet time. With the kids moved out, my eldest getting married last year and starting her own little family, I decided to spend more time this year w/ my husband over the road in the big truck seeing cities and places that I had always wanted to see, but had all the ‘stay-at-home’ mom’s obligations not too.

To drive my point home, Robert’s been driving OTR since 1995! 21 years! And up until a few months ago, I’ve probably gone out w/ him only a handful of times. This was the first time ever I spent almost a whole two months with him just cruising around our great county and I needed it! My God, I needed it! I really did! Laaaaaaa *ray of light* Laaaaaaa....

Those of you who’ve been following me long enough are probably aware that the last 7 years --actually 8 now-- have been wrapped in my fighting a serious illness I was going through that resulted in three separate operations, as well as the loss of my mother and then my beloved friend & father figure, William Moody. I never quite grasped the whole concept of depression as something that could legitimately disable a person until that happened. Until then I confess it was too easy to cast the whole theory off as a weakness in myself, perhaps a character flaw. I wasn’t myself. I wasn’t calling friends ...I didn’t want too. I would try to spend time online and wouldn’t know what to say and so I’d say nothing at all. Let another week, another month, go by. But perhaps the most telling of all is that I wasn’t interested in my art, in doing artwork. I would try to start something and it would linger. I just never seemed to get anything done and I really began to wonder what was wrong with me. For years and years, as far back as my elementary school days, my art had been my escape. It had been my healer. When the world was falling down, I had my sketch book. Why wasn’t it working this time? Just four years ago I had thought I would never be able to draw the same again at all. I had the surgeries. I had recovered them all successfully ---Damn! I should be cranking it out, man!

But I wasn’t. I wasn’t doing anything.

So I talked with my doctor who put me in touch with ‘Gateway’, which is a counseling service in our area and I found out I’d been dealing with a bad case of complicated grief that had become a depression. I take medication for it now and I’m still seeing them, but I do admit that I am feeling a lot better than I did before going. Losing my mother was hard and I don’t want to put anyone's life value into any sort of bracket, but to lose William too damn near destroyed me. I mean I can’t say it enough and there’s really no special vocabulary. I felt as though the one lighthouse I had left in this stormy sea of life had been taken away from me. Who was I going to lean on? Who’s going to care about what I’m doing and what art work I was doing today? Who was going to keep PNT valuable and meaningful to me now? Would he disappear entirely if I moved on? The idea actually scared me! In the truck with Robert passing through Mobile, AL, I opted to stop by his resting place and try to answer all of those questions and cry it out. God bless, Joan. His sister, Joan. She’s really stepped in to become a echo of his presence. She may not think that little bit matters should she reads this, but it does. I really does.

So, yeah. I needed it. I needed to get out of my routine --become unstapled if you will-- and just hit the road. Shake it off and try a regrow a few of these damaged feathers on my wings.

Depression by DestinyBlue

^ Perfect representation of the lie I kept telling everyone online ..and myself. Great art, DestinyBlue!


~Shinju



                                
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I know the  feeling..I dumped my art portfolios in the trash when I went through some depression a few years ago..thank God my husband pulled them out..