This piece is called Childhood Traumas. I’m feeling very depressed and so I wanted some work that I had created that would evince those strange feelings of disassociation and depersonalisation. My mind is going in circles. One minute feeling angry with others and the next angry with myself and not understanding at all why or what is happening inside my mind. Here I sit, looking perfectly normal but certainly not feeling it. If I wasn’t so tired I would paint my feelings in colour. Perhaps I will create an abstract tomorrow. At least it will be something to motivate me. I don’t like to create dark work though, I have too much of it. I feel very isolated. Perhaps extreme emotions can be channelled and be taken advantage of. It’s something that I can focus on at least. I will post the piece I produce perhaps, but don’t expect it to be pretty!
At this moment, I’m feeling overwhelmed by just about everything. There’s always so many things to do. I can’t keep up with all the posts I want to read on here and it’s even harder to find time to write a post. I thought at first that my main interest would naturally be art but I’m finding myself more drawn to people I relate to. Those who find themselves in a similar situation to myself. Mostly to do with my physical and mental health. I did have email notices at first from everyone I followed. Ahhhh! My inbox was incredibly full. If I’d spent the whole day reading posts I would still have not been able to read them all, let alone write one. I’m so tired as well. I have a vitamin deficiency. I shall find out more about this on Thursday, I think it’s vitamin D. I have a sudden run of exhibition work, one I need to take down on Thursday, one to deliver to on Tuesday, one I submitted to today, another coming up in June. I’m so pleased I didn’t accept the one in Chelsea that invited me, although I really hope that next year I will be able to take up more of these type of offers. As it is I can’t keep up with the local ones, especially as I’ve been unwell. That is nothing unusual though. I just hate that my health prevents me from reaching my potential. That each day I’m too tired to carry out all of the tasks I want to do. It’s so frustrating. At last I have the opportunities but cannot accept. I constantly live in hope that I will improve but when I’m depressed, it somehow seems more realistic to come to terms with the fact that this is permanent. I believe in my work and at last have some direction but I just don’t think I can do much with it. I am thinking of ways to overcome this and hopefully will but at the moment it all seems so distant and unachievable. I am so tired right now and need to go to bed. I have so many things I want to do! Arrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggggg!
It seems I’m waiting for events at the moment. The court date when my ex is taking me to court to try to change the order for him to pay my mortgage! Nightmare! I did take all the debts, it’s not a one way thing. He is being unfair to be polite. If I wasn’t being polite, I would swear quite profusely! The birth of my first grandchild on the 1st October! Absolute joy but a little anxious too 🙂
Anyway, I wanted to write about my hospital experience from last August. Various things have made me think about it. I was doing so well before my operation. I had organised a large exhibition for the Essex County Council as part of the ‘Essex Summer of Art’, ‘A Cinematic Celebration’. I had day surgery booked and an exhibition planned for after the gall bladder removal. ‘Nothing to worry about’ I’d been told, ‘In and out on the same day’ OMG! I had to stay in after and then told I needed another operation. I was in agony and on a constant morphine drip with a button that I was pressing more than I should. After that I had to have drains for 2 weeks and could hardly move from the bed. Those 2 weeks do not seem so bad in comparison to what was to come. I came home and had a zimmer frame to get around! (I’m not that old!) The next day I had a couple of nurses come to help me get dressed etc. They told me I needed to see a doctor. I looked pregnant. I was thinking to myself ‘My gosh I put on weight in hospital, how did that happen?’ The doctor said I needed to go straight back to hospital, which I did and straight back into the operating theatre. This time I was in another ward, the last time I had been in a room of my own with en suite. At first things didn’t seem so bad but I had drains in again, my tummy looks like dot to dot, all the holes where they put them in and pulled them out. I began to get paranoid, totally drugged up on morphine, codeine and diazepam amongst other things. Then I decided I want no more drugs and I’m not having anyone poking around trying to get a cannula into a vein. So I stopped the morphine! Bad move, serious withdrawal. I was so sick. I won’t go into gory details but there are many. All I kept thinking about was the Clash song ‘Bank Robber’. I don’t know all the lyrics so just a repetition of, ‘My daddy was a bank robber, he never hurt nobody, he just loved to live that way, he loved to steal your money.’ To this day I’m sure that must have had some meaning. At the time it was just driving me insane (although I still love the music). That and the smell of the blanket that I couldn’t get out of my nostrils. The spider hallucinations weren’t bothering me. The fact that I couldn’t keep my legs still made it a hell of a night 😦
I didn’t realise until later that I could have died from the complications. Now, these days I really don’t like hospitals. I still have stomach pains but for the time being I have to tolerate them. I do have pethedine to manage the pain. If you have read my other posts you will know this caused quite a problem with my heart rate just the other day. I will do without that now. In fact I’ve also removed my morphine patch. Paranoia back again and pain. Life eh?
At least I have that off my chest. Therapeutic for me if not interesting for anybody else. The painting here was just another piece of therapy for me, I’d never think about selling it. It demonstrates quite a bit of what I have written here.