#b. talks

Because to be completely honest. Art hasn’t been on my mind as much lately. I started making these pages when I was in a really bad place. I went to a process that caused me to feel incredibly angry at the world, and at X person. I needed a place for those feelings to go that weren’t directed only towards myself of X person. 

And it helped.  (No worries I won’t stop making art.)  But times change, and where since then things have gotten better, and worse, and better and worse again. Right now things are about to change for real. (I hope.)  See, being mentally ill wasn’t exactly new for me at the point where I started to make art (long before I even started this blog.) My eating disorder has been with me for almost 10 years, my borderline has been officially diagnosed for some time. I’ve seen enough therapists that I can’t count the number on one hand. And I keep struggling. And that’s okay. I didn’t ask for the trauma. I didn’t ask for my shit brain and the genes that made me more likely to become ill. I never wanted any of this. 

Yet, it happened. I’m chronically mentally ill. And soon (in 12 days probably) I’ll be heading into a treatment clinic. First to get rid of my anorexia. Then another 9 month inpatient program to learn how to deal with the rest of my illnesses.  And I’m hopeful. I’m terrified. I’m excited. And I want to hide under blankets just to never be seen again. It’s a mixture of every fearfull- and hopeful thought I’ve ever had.  And I really hope this will help.  It won’t be an easy fight, battling thoughts and beliefs that I’ve carried with me for so long. Facing fears that are so deeply buried within. But I’m as ready as I can be. It’s now or never. I want this. I really want to give this a try. 

Right now, I’m unhappy. Life is hard. There are good moments but to be honest, the struggles weigh heavy on me. I cope. I function better than 1 or 2 years ago. But it’s not living. It’s barely surviving. And I so hope it changes. 

There are two outcomes. (Or at least that’s what I believe right now.) Either I rock this, or this kills me. And both are fine by me. I hope, I truly hope, for my family, for all of you, and in my core even for myself, that this will help. That I’ll be able to find ways to deal with who I am and what I’m feeling that aren’t as destructive. That there will be tricks to use against the parts of my brain that want me to destroy myself. I truly hope I can find myself, and accept and like who I am. And if I can’t... then so be it. If I can’t then the next step will be finding a good way to end it. 

So.. a year of change is ahead. (We’re looking at this from a positive side)  And with that, my art may change. I hope in a positive way. I’ve made the pieces about heartbreak, anger and hurt. I’ve made pieces about sadness. Maybe it’s time to make pieces about hope. About growth, about the grief of my anorexia and the new feelings that are yet to come. And I hope you’ll stick with me. I will keep making art when I can. I don’t exactly know my schedules yet. But it might take a bit longer. Currently there’s a queue of old stuff running, this will last till the day I go inpatient. From that day there’s a few new pieces. And from there on.. nothing yet. 

I try, I try to make art but this art I make comes from a heart that wants it to be real and raw. I’m not forcing myself to do this when I can’t. And this might just be a natural pause. The stress about starting these treatments is so huge that I can barely even grasp it. I’m numb to it, yet constantly filled with fear. 

When things have settled, my passion for this will return. And until then please be patient with me.