We’ve all had experiences where we’ve dealt with unrealistic expectations even with the knowledge of failure. This one is titled #selfie.
T
ugh..
I’ve been searching for words other than creative block to illustrate (no pun intended) my current creative mental state. There was a period of time in which I felt extremely inspired, but I wasn’t physically capable of creating. These tiny little stems grew out a bit and despite all the physical bullshit I’ve been going through for the past 10 months I hit a point where the physical pain became a little more manageable. And then came “the now”. I’m stuck and I feel betrayed by my own passion. There are no branches and I feel like the stems are beginning to dry up. I feel like shit.
T
Try to fall in love with the process; the end result is just that – the end. Attempting to fit this philosophy into your everyday life and it’s not as easily apprehended.
Think of your life as a really big book. Different characters that paint your life through various pages. There’s always a climax in the story. There is always a turning point, a moment of clarity and realization amongst all the chaos. You read page after page as you anticipate the ending. Suddenly you are at the end and you get that feeling at the pit of your stomach - yearning. That feeling of “wtf, how did it all end so fast?”
Try to fall in love with the process. That’s where the magic happens whether the book is a short story or a big novel. Flip through the pages with complete tranquility. Be in control of the now, you will get where you need to be. Trust the pages. Don’t rush.
T
Next time you want to pop a ‘Molly and sweat’ think of those who face many challenges everyday. Please use the hash tag #bellletstalk today. They donate 5cents to dedicated programs for mental health. Take a moment out of your selfish days and HELP.
Photo quality is bad due to my iPhone camera.
Pills are made out of clay.
It’s wonderful how a little room can make you endure emotions you once felt yet make you feel absolutely nothing, at the same damn time. Does that even make sense? Of course not, because none of this makes sense, not even to me. It’s the human brain, I guess. It’s functionality. You can either let it break you or make you. But by choosing to give up you’ve chosen to loose. Nobody wants to be a loser. One must always win. Right? Seven months later and the numbness is slowly fading away and the psychological pain is rapidly increasingly. It feels like I’m grieving over the loss of my own death. When I died the old me died. My goals and aspirations died. My hobbies died. My social life died. Not to say that I still don’t feel that way, because for the most part I do. I recall the nurse saying to me “You’ve been in an accident, you’ll be ok”. What she failed to mention though was this. NOW. What you go through during the recovery process. All the things you feel that are not okay, because it’s damn hard having to relearn what you already know. So I’m going to change the cycle. I’m going to stop referring to myself as the old me. It’s always been me. I’m just doing some editing. Shit will be ok. I think.
Here is a self-portrait titled “Super Grandma”. It’s how I’ve been feeling as of late. Old. Blank. Blah.
I’ve been MIA. I can’t explain why just yet but it’s legitimate. Please forgive me for neglecting the blog for over six month. I’ll be updating soon, but for now: Let’s pick up where we left off.
Here is a screen print from June of 2012. Part of a series I was am once again working on. In a nutshell it’s about dealing with unrealistic expectations with knowledge of failure.
Did I post this already? Who knows.
Oh and the site is under construction but enjoy anyways.
T
