Thinking back on this past month, I realized a few things.
First- bliss sometimes looks more like laziness to the driven.
Second- commitments sometimes are more difficult than past the end of comfort zones.
Third- poetry is fun to write as long as it isn’t so damn emotional.
Fourth-seasons changing is depressing for me.
For a large part of the ‘inking’ community, October was ‘inktober’ and I failed miserably. I got about five to ten semi finished drawings and one or two that I felt were ‘acceptable’ at best. I just wasn’t feeling it this month.
For whatever reason, whether you want to blame it on mercury retrograde or Solar flares or just plain old bad moods and low income, October was, for me- Crap. Rubbish. Waste. Like dead leaves and winter weather. Not what I wanted and pushing the boundaries on ‘comfort zone.’
It is odd to think of all the possibilities out there, the potentials, the probabilities and capabilities inherent in being a human in the second millennium. That, and how little of it I actually experience. And how most times, I am actually ‘okay’ with that. Pain aside, worry aside, and disorder aside, I like things that are indoors. Indoors, and solitary. Introversion is my specialty.
Why do I live this lonely way? Why don’t I go out there into the world when it is so enjoyable in here? There is so much out there. So much to enjoy, explore, experience, take part in. It should be good too get away from ‘inside.’ I am usually so wrapped up in art art art, but this month, I became depressed seeing the people around me struggling with their health that even the art wasn’t that much fun.
I tend to not be able to stick to any commitment, or any schedule. I tend not to want to follow directions, or be bossed around. Even so, things were more extreme in the ‘outcast symptoms’ this month. Blame it on whatever astrological chart or numerological equation you have that fits me, but there is something about me that was a bit off in October. Past pains came back- not merely physical pains, or emotional pains but karmic pains and worldly pains too. The world was a bit agitated. So was I. But I am getting better at handling it. I think I am anyhow. A year ago, I would say I was in a way worse state and ‘comfort zone’ wasn’t even a concept that made sense to me.
It was in acquiring skills from reading (solitary), meditation (solitary), writing (solitary), drawing and painting (solitary), that I am now able to feel semi-‘normal.’ But this year was different. I hung out with my old man, my dad. It was unusual for me because we hadn’t really spoken for years. He was suffering the whole time. He needs kidneys. He needs help. I felt helpless. I stayed away from my mom, mostly. (She’s tough to be around.) They divorced when I was a kid.
I am 32. I should be able to get out on my own. I should have a job. I should have a car. A girlfriend at least. A long lost friend to hang around. None of that is comfortable. None of that has been ‘comfortable’ for a long time. It sounds easy-‘get a job’, ‘start a class’, ‘go out to a movie’, ‘go get dinner’, ‘do something fun’. It is anything but that for me.
I came up with some good ideas. I got some work done. I did some socializing (
finally). And I was able to heal a whole crap-load of …………..’crap.’ Energetic ‘crap’, emotional ‘crap’, mental garbage that no longer needs to stay there. It felt good, but ‘comfortable?’ -No. It was tough. It was sluggish, depressing, aggravating, frustrating, and anguished. But you know what? I am glad I went through it. I am glad things won’t have to be that way and that I have a plan now. I am able to get out more. I am able to communicate a bit better. I know more of what I want to do. I have a concept of another world than the one in my brain.
Foggy? -yes. But I have something to hold onto now. Something other than just me in some room. Something other than
the alcoholic roommate from hell. I have my future to hold onto. I have my dreams coming into focus. I have a hand-hold on an idea I can go with. Something I can conceptualize as being ‘good.’ Something to pull me out of depression. I have an idea of being able to handle my past. My life prior to ‘new age’; prior to ‘Angels and god’; prior to ‘becoming someone new.’ You know, that past life from bipolar hell.
I hope so, anyhow..