Since I finished up my learning series articles (which begins here), I haven’t been feeling well. I meant to get back to blogging about my regular boring life, but I honestly haven’t had much energy for that or making any art.
The truth is that I wrote most of those articles in December and scheduled them to release twice a week during January. It was just as well because I got an ugly stomach virus that turned into a flu, which lasted more than three weeks. It made me weak and exhausted, and I felt like I must have slept for a month.
I could’ve sworn it was all psychosomatic at first. I attempted to quit smoking again (which has been mostly successful) and get back into my diet. I have (very) quickly gained most of my weight back after losing 50 pounds when the pandemic first started. I was 10 lbs away from being happy. It took all those years to get rid of it, though, and it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.
But in the middle of my solo show, or two weeks in, the anxiety got to be way too much for me. I dropped off the diet and began stress-eating like a pig. Then by the holidays, I kept putting off going back on the diet until the first of January. By then, it was way too late. I’d gained a whopping 25 pounds back. It took at least a year to get those last 25 pounds off the last time. But that’s what I’m looking at again. I have to shave them off a couple a week, if that, if I want to do it realistically.
When I started to feel sick, I thought it was for sure in my head. I couldn’t smoke anymore. I couldn’t eat any of the things I wanted in the amounts I wanted too. I was severely depressed. I had no energy. But shortly after the first week, Hannah caught the same thing. So it was either sympathy illness, or it was real. I finally saw the doctor, and he said it was a virus. I took some medicine and started to feel better. But too bad all the vomiting didn’t take any pounds off. I have to do it the right way.
As for art, I was hardly able to finish a painting that’s been sitting on my easel for what seemed like eons. It’s done, finally (Shabbos Dinner Abandon). I think I worked on it in one-hour stints every few days when I was able to stand there without wanting to fall over. And I just wasn’t in the mood most days. I really need a hiatus, but I keep making myself feel guilty for wanting it. Every time I have an idea, I feel like I have to DO something about it, or else I’m some kind of loser. Like all those painting ideas will disappear into the ether.
Yet, I have to give myself a break, especially when I’m this exhausted and sad. Depression just sucks ass. My brain-cootie doctor has also given me a slight medication tweak, but I haven’t felt much of that working yet. I’m waiting.
The other day, I was so down and out, I wrote the following paragraphs. I guess it was for the blog. But then I stopped myself from posting it, thinking it might be too dark, But fuck it, here it is anyway:
Maybe it’s Time to Give Up
What do we do it for? Often, it’s for the recognition that never seems to come. At least not often enough or from the ones we need it. And not during the time we need it most. (Isn’t that so true?)
Maybe you’re not like me. Maybe you’re not hurting. Your ego is non-existent. You weren’t trying your damnedest, or you’re never disappointed.
Am I done? I know I’m tired. I suppose I’ll know once enough is enough. It feels like I’m running in circles, running out of time, and into the ground.
In the end, will I tell myself I wasn’t good enough? Loud enough? Cool enough? I wasn’t cutting edge enough, like the all the kids. Not made of the same stuff, I was weak. I couldn’t even carry the same weight as the normals. Couldn’t I just get a job?
That never really worked. Useless at most things. Probably useless at art too. So why not stop? Maybe, it’s time to give up. Please, call back later. My eyes and ears are sticking shut.
Yup, sounds like I need some kind of break, doesn’t it? Ha ha ha. At least I can laugh at myself.