Through the Highs and Lows Of A Bipolar Artist- Blogging- Pure and Simple

What goes on in my life?

Mostly, I just make art and watch tv and go on the internet. Just like most people, only with lots of art. The tv I watch is youtube videos for the most part, recently. I do watch some Sleepy Hollow and some Doctor Who and some Flash. I enjoy a good Netflix movie or show, you know, normal stuff.

I read a great deal. Books on self improvement mostly, on bettering the world and on bettering my art. I write a great deal too, and I started to write children’s books and comic books too. I tend to want to try too hard to make my work better. At times, I worry that I don’t do enough or that I am ineffective. I worry that I am not making enough progress.

Every day, I work a little bit more on something I love to do. I love to draw, paint, and make digital artwork. Recently, it has been less and less digital and more and more “real” materials. That is fun. I did a series of digital abstracts over the years. It was fun too. No one liked them enough to buy a whole ton of them. It seemed like a waste. I hope to change that.

There are countless things for me to do and work on. There are countless things for me to build upon. What I am realizing is that trying to improve myself too much leads me to not appreciate how far I have come, how much I have done, and how much I am healing and how much healing I really truly did.

I have bipolar disorder that I hope to overcome. It makes living difficult. I am afraid a lot of the time and anxious like you would never believe. I get paranoid and I have trouble feeling good for any amount of time. I push through it. It is stress that gets to me and makes me worried. I feel tremendous pressure to try to get over this stress. The people in my life give me a lot to think about in this department.

I meditate a LOT now. I tend to go for three or four hours at a time. I tend to fall asleep at times, but the work of the actual MEDITATION is amazing. I feel such a connection to the divine from this and I feel so close to heaven, I feel like I am actually there. I wonder at times if it is just a hallucination, but I know better than that. Now.

I get disability payments for a buttload of work I did in my younger years. I worked from the age of about 10 to the age of about 20. It is nice to think that I live in a great place that takes care of me due to my stress and my illness. I guess my biggest problem lately is the fear of social situations. I don’t get out a lot and that makes me upset, but I get so out of place out there in the world, that even going to the corner store is difficult. It’s not that there are not nice people out there, it’s just that I have difficulty believing that something bad might not happen.

I often think that someone is going to shoot up the store I am in or that someone is going to pull out a gun and demand the cash from the dresser drawer. I worry that there might be a major catastrophe wherever I go. I tend to focus on the faults rather than the joys. I have spent too much time in my youth watching horror movies and action films where the WORST possible things happen, and drugs were offered to me from the age of 16 on until I realized drugs don’t work. At all. For me.

My sister passed away when I was about 20. She was 18. She turned 18 while in the hospital. She was on drugs and got an infection. She was on the streets and caught pneumonia. Double pneumonia.

I realized- I didn’t want to do drugs anymore. I didn’t want to drink. I didn’t want to do crazy things. This left me the boring person. I felt I would not fit in in social situations where people drank beer, even though the person I lived with was an alcoholic.

It was tough to make it through the drugs and the loneliness and the depression and the fears. It was tough to try to become a healthy person despite everything I was experiencing telling me that IT WAS NOT POSSIBLE.

Faith saved me. I found faith in spirit. In talking to heaven. In the fact that communication with heaven was possible. I wanted to contact my sister to bring back the fun that she made for everyone. The fun that I missed by wanting to take care of my depression.

I learned to be a medium. It was difficult for me to fight through years of negativity and negative thinking and all sorts of negative beings. Especially ones that occur from negative people. I’ve been through everything in astral beings that was negative it seems, and now I am realizing that it is not that bad. That there are beings so full of light that they circle the world in love only so that others can experience more love and that they are SO strong and powerful in their feeling they give that humans can feel them even if they don’t know that that’s what they feel.

Some of my art from the past was horrible in its mood and feeling. Some of it was so gross and weird that even I wondered what the hell I was thinking. So much of what I have done with my art was through the filter of fear and depression and LOW moods that I seemed to conjure this every time I went to the drawing board. I fought to change and become something of a being of light. I fought every bit of depression and fear I had accumulated, and I realized- it was all a choice. I was choosing wrong. I was choosing the things I didn’t want on a daily basis and I had no way to stop that train of misinformation.

I’ve had to live with my mother for years now. I want my own place. So much that it hurts at times. I’ve had to do a lot of home repairs this last year in 2014. I let everything go and the person who lived here before had grafiti and writing on her walls along with lousy carpets full of stains and dents and dings everywhere in the walls.

I’d never really done anything like that before- home repairs. I learned a lot about taking care of where I live- that your environment really impacts your life. When I lived with my Dad, his house was spotless. Every week, my Stepmother would clean and I would do chores, along with my siblings. The place was NICE. Then I moved here after several moves. It was nice enough at first. Floors looked good. Minor repairs needed. But I was unaware of all the detritus that would accumulate. All of the pet stains and the spills and the lack of maintenance.

I have come through a lot. It seems here in this post that it is not much, but the way I write is as someone who has seen a lot and wants to change, who has changed, who feels better about himself now that there are not so many bad thoughts rolling around in his head. Someone who knows the perils of negative self talk and who has been through the stress of cigarettes and arguing and distrust. I let my guard down. I let the faith I wanted speak to me. I feel good now, but I tend to fear another mishap in my medication or another misstep in my life.

I guess that is all unimportant. I guess I made it through the tough stuff. I guess you may come here for the artwork or the poems or maybe something else. Is it my sheer lack of social skills? I don’t know. And it seems that I am all alone on here, so I may as well tell my story. Maybe someone will glean some information that helps them from it.

I have blogged for about four or five years. Fairly consistently. My main goal was to start a blog to tell people of all of the difficulties of a bipolar person and all of the hells I was facing in my life and thinking. It ended up being me showing just photos of my artwork. I had no idea how to write for a blog or even if I wanted to. Most of the people in my life thought blogging was for losers. I felt like a loser. They said that it was a journal and that only fairy people who are not men journal. I felt ashamed.

I kept going.

Tim Edwin B.