Back in the Saddle Again

For over two years, two long years, I had no desire whatsoever to work on my graphic design and/or art. I just wanted to sit and play my video game. That's it. That was my goal; that is what consisted of my day.

I don't blame the video game or my addiction to my lack of interest in my art, I blame my frustration and I blame Bipolar Disorder. But life can't be filled with blame, if all we do is blame then we never hold ourselves accountable for the mistakes that we make. I am choosing to get help for my Bipolar and choosing to get well again. I have so much to live in my life and so much to see, that getting well will only enrich it, not ruin it.

It was difficult these past two years without my art, without my work. I truly thought I'd never have the desire to go back. I always looked at it as a creative block, nothing more, nothing less. I was afraid that I'd never have that desire to create and design like I used to. I had such passion for it and to then wake up one day and have it disappear was discouraging, as well as depressing. I had worked so hard to obtain my bachelors degree in graphic design, that it was almost a disincline from everything that had been so meaningful in my life.

Until now.

After two and a half years, I can now look ahead and move forward with my work and my art. Even though I am still currently unemployed, I still have hope that I can create on my own and design for me. Right now, I need that more than anything. It'll not only keep me sane, but keep me occupied. Keep my thoughts from racing every night as I lie in bed attempting to go to sleep. My psychiatric nurse—whom I refer to as my 'drug dealer'—had recommended that I keep a journal or note pad next to my bed so I can write down my racing thoughts. But I don't need a note pad, thankfully I still remember all of my thoughts and ideas the following day.

If only it were this easy. I admit, there are days where my mind and thoughts are constantly coming up with ideas on what project to work on next, only to find myself unable to execute it when I approach the plate. It has been frustrating. I've never had this problem before and I've never been this "blocked." It has become quite the eye opener for me. Reality. 

Sometimes I ask myself "why?" Why am I atttempting to do this again? Why not just walk away and find something else to occupy my time? I had even thought about focusing my energy on learning to cook, but for me for the most part, art/design is still where I belong. When you're an artist, the answer isn't as simple as it may seem. It's something deep inside of you that needs to come out; that needs to be expressed. STAT! 

But where do I start?

I'm confused by this question, simply because I am still confused to why I was 'blocked' to begin with. Since I was 13 years old, after seeing the movie Xanadu, I knew that becoming a commercial artist—which is what graphic design was called back then—was my calling in life. Although I initially dreamed of becoming an architect, I immediately came to the realization that math was not my forté; my weakest subject. 

Next dream—graphic designer. 

Art history and architecture is still to this day, something I have such passion for, so I just realized that I can still enjoy it without having it as my career. 

Even if I don't get a job in my field right now, I'm actually OK with that. At this point, working at a coffee shop would be sufficient. As long as I'm around people and can socialize with the real world, in lieu of the virtual world which I have become so accustomed to after 2+ years. I need and crave for that more than anything right now.

That will help me heal.

Pop Art illustration Raisins – Artist, me – 2006

Pop Art illustration S.O.S. Pads – Artist, me – 2006

Pop Art illustration Spaghetti Sauce & Tomato Soup – Artist, me – 2006

 

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Eat. Travel. Cry.

When the movie, Eat Pray Love, came out, I couldn't wait to see it. I knew none of my friends would see it with me, so I went by myself. Since I love going to the movies by myself, I quickly embraced it. My movie, my time, my terms. It's time to myself.

This movie was different. Anybody that truly knows me knows that I hate love stories and the like. I hate the kind of movies that involve romance and unrealistic expections about what love is supposed to be about. Hollywood's version. But something about this movie intrigued me. I hadn't read the book, so the previews alone are what drew me in. I had heard a great deal about the book and how inspiring it was, especially since it was based off a true story, so I couldn't wait to see it.

For the most part, I knew the basic background of the book and the movie, but still didn't have an idea overall what it was about. 

Once it came out, I immediately went online and purchased my ticket. I was ready to go! Apart of me was scared because I knew once I'd see it, there was the possibility that I may identify with the main character, Elizabeth Gilbert.

I didn't care. Something about this movie piqued my interest.

As I sat alone in the movie theater, after the first 30 minutes or so, I had a revelation—up there on the screen, was me! It seemed everything about that character was me. At that time in my marriage, I was unsure, I was confused. I love my husband dearly, but during that down time in my life, I was completely lost—both in my mind and my heart. After watching the pain that Elizabeth Gilbert had endured must have been beyond agonizing and disconcerting. She knew right then and there, that in order to go forward and be happy with her life, she had to make a rash decision.

To end her marriage and ask for a divorce.

I don't think I necessarily wanted a divorce, but I knew one thing, I needed to be alone. Even though my husband was my rock throughout my ordeal, I still wanted to experience the solitude that she was experiencing.

Per my post, The Escape Artist, I always dreamed about traveling and my envious feeling as I continued to watch the movie only increased my desire to travel, see the magical places that she was able to pursue while she had the advantage of gallivanting throughout these countries.

Except for one problem, I had zero money—unlike the fortunate position she was in, I am nowhere near the magnitude of her writing skills, so that idea was out.

About three years ago, my mother gave me her 3 carat pear shaped diamond ring. It was something she always wanted to pass down to me, and one day I will pass down to my daughter. Once I received it, I knew I needed to have it insured immediately. Since her appraisal was outdated from 1976, I went to my local jeweler whom I have used for years and trusted a great deal for an update. It was appraised at $11,000. Not as much as I thought, but a substancial amount nevertheless.

While I was experiencing these feelings of escape, I thought about selling my mother's ring—the "rock" as I've always called it. But quickly realized this would have impacted me for many years ahead and would have been a colossal mistake.

As I reminisce about that time, I am so glad I didn't give in and sell it. I know now I was at least able to think rationally about that huge step I would have made, and ended up satisfied with my decision not to sell it. I look at my mother's ring everyday and I'm so thankful I didn't succumb to this urge. This ring will someday be passed down to my daughter, and her daughter and so forth. An heirloom that will hopefully remain in my family for decades, if not centuries, ahead.

By the end of the movie, I wanted what she had so badly. Not the love part, but the initial escape, the travel, and of course, the eating. I craved it. It's a reminder of how I was feeling and what I was desiring in my life at that time. It was a tough point, a low in my life and knew something needed to change.

Unfortunately, I was never able to make those changes. Maybe all is well. I don't know. I do know this, as I move forward with my medications, I realize that I am better. I am getting better. Like a diabetic, I know that I will always have to continue with my medication. I never want to experience that horrible time in my life. I can only move forward and learn from it.

Regardless, even today as my crying has diminished completely, I look back and someday dream that we will have the opportunity to travel—even if it's somewhere as simple as Mexico. I'll be happy.

I have to have faith that I will have that lucky chance to do so. The means which will allow to escape, even if I am with my family.

I'm not a religious person, nor have I ever been, but I will pray, pray that I will be in the position to travel and see the world!

Pop Art of Buddha – Artist, me – 2009

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