I cannot now for the life of me remember where I read it, but there was a quote I saw awhile back that said something along the lines of " Your mental illness is not your fault; but it is your responsibility." I identified with it because it seemed to capture the lonely and simultaneously empowering struggle of taking accountability when dealing with mental illness.
I feel like I say this a lot, but I'm no expert. I'm not. Sometimes I wish I were an expert in a field of study. But my scope of interests is far too broad, and so, I'm an artist. And a writer. And so here we are...
The source from which I speak then is experience.
Personal experience to be precise. Because it is important to understand that the things that have shaped me may or may not apply to you. You might be reading this objectively. Or, you might be reading this from your own set of personal experiences. Some might be similar, some maybe only in part, some might be the same, or our experiences can differ entirely. And that's quite a beautiful thing in a way. Our inner lives are infinitely complex.
Creative-types have particularly vivid inner worlds and they work with a wide spectrum of colors. Sometimes, whether they want to or not.
We are only just now beginning to really understand the cognitive complexity of creativity and the creative mind. Reading Adam Grant's book Originals was refreshing and encouraging on this topic but I still believe we as a society have a long way to go in giving artists their due respect.
I don't believe artists must suffer in order to become great or successful in our field and I think the stereotype of the "starving"/suffering artist is outdated and harmful. Even more damaging is the latent glorification of mental health problems, dysfunctional public figures, the need to experience extreme altered states, and dying young. Each one or all has been amplified by media sources; news, music, movies, tv shows, writing. So how can we talk about our experiences in honest ways - past and present - without creating a space that keeps folks who might be currently struggling in a constant state of triggered trauma?
I don't have a simple answer. But I think creatives can start by considering the impact of what they put out into the world, and dial in on the most important parts of what their message really is. For instance, are you really writing a story to help people overcome their own addictions and trauma; or did you just spend three quarters of your own book giving people a step-by-step guide on how to shoot up and hide it from those that love them most? Think about what you do, and why you're doing it.
I am not proud of my struggles with mental illness. Did it make me a better, more interesting artist? Fuck no. There's a lot I wish I hadn't gone through, mostly because of the fact that I took my loved ones with me. As much as I do want to "use my experiences for good," it's difficult to do so without re-injuring those who were there; not to mention myself.
It is very rarely possible to sever our ties completely in this life, no matter what our corrupt inner voice says. As mentioned before, our lives are all infinitely complex and interwoven like cobwebs. Each strand, a choice made by you or someone else; but all interconnected. There are so many people who we do and don't know that are daily affected by our presence and our choices.
So if given the choice to do things again, I would choose to attempt to inspire people more. Because that's the truly life-saving, worthy thing to do. Its what I seek to do now. My angers, hatreds, griefs, all drive a deep desire to see this world become a better place so that there can be less anger, hatred and grief in general. We already have enough of those. The world is full. And you will never have to look far to find them. What we need now is health. It shouldn't be revolutionary or country cultural at this point in history to live a self-sustaining, healthy life based on a mixture of what we've learned from history, combined with the technological advantages we have now. And yet society seems to keep rehashing the same damn problems, while creating new ones daily. Our collective minds and behaviors need to change.
Life becomes more precious with age because you start to see the truth of the unfairness. Far too many lives, good ones, that should have had a chance, and just, didn't. That reality used to cripple my mind everyday with a type of empathetic survivor's guilt and shame. But I've learned that time truly is one of the greatest transforming factors of life. Time eventually dampens some of the sharpness in those feelings, and in that smoldering ember turns the pain into motivation.
Motivation to speak truths, even when it is difficult and near impossible to put into words. For those that can't now. Motivation to read, paint, or draw in those times I can't speak. Motivation to take care of the Earth and the land because its the one thing that truly connects us all; the one true innocent. And in caring for the land we quickly learn that in doing so, it encompasses a care for ourselves as well and the type of energy we consume and project. We cannot exist apart from this Earth. It all comes full circle. Life is cyclical and builds upon itself with Time.
But the good news is that the steps toward our own version of Eden (Heaven, Valhalla, whatever you want to call it....) are possible. There is no plant in nature that blooms the day the seed is planted. A garden needs tending and time. Our inner-selves function much the same way, especially in youth. We all have that one little "emotional acre" of our own to tend, like Ann Lamott talks about in her book Bird by Bird. I think one of the most peaceful revelations I ever had was sinking fully into the reality of knowing that we are a part of the natural world just as any other wild animal. There is a deep nature tied ancestrally to the patterns of the sun, moon, and seasons. No matter how urban our lives have become, we all have this deep, core connection to Earth. And like Earth, the tide, and the seasons, our lives contain ebbs and flow. Nothing blooms in every season. Similarly, our emotions and experiences form an equally intricate ballet.
I will say this about my own experiences: change happens over the course of time, but there are ways to build resilience as we go along. For my own part, there was a time at what I (now) think of as one of my lowest when I was truly convinced that I had no future and that those I loved most would benefit from the lack of my presence. What small joy I could perceive in life was coming from my expanding artistic ability. At a low moment I made a deal with myself that I could consider my life over after I had finished what I believed to be my important works of art. But to this day, many years later, I am still creating. Because the thing about creativity is this: it is inexhaustable. I underestimated just how much when I made that personal deal (happily so now) and the ongoing work eventually bred a more focused technical talent which sparked new passion and life all around. It took time but I was able to reconnect. The things in life we value most and sometimes find lacking are luckily all renewable resources: empathy, love, faith, hope, creativity, tenacity, compassion, wisdom. And they all grow stronger with use over time like mental muscles. When one or more are in short supply, I believe building resilience may come from leaning more heavily into the others and clinging to them as a means of riding out the flood, clinging to these qualities like a floating piece of wreckage.
"You cannot use up creativity. The more you use, the more you have." - Oscar Wilde
Once we get through that initial chaos of youth and that technical style really has time to solidify, it was at that point only I ever really asked myself why I wanted to be an artist. We have to survive first before we can ask ourselves what it meant to us.
For my own part, the years I spent of my life fully believing I was doing the right thing: academically, health-wise, relationally, psychologically didn't pay off.
Trying to get help for my mental health caused me to go on medications which exacerbated the exact same problems and created a slew of new ones. The side-effects ranged from trembling hands (which made it difficult to draw) to tactile hallucinations of ants crawling all over me and disembodied hands grabbing me from behind. So I stopped.
I stopped going to therapy and spent the time reading instead. I stopped taking the medications, reclaimed by art-abilities and began utilizing cannabis to treat the worst of my mental and physical symptoms. I began focusing on cutting out toxins from my life; microwaveable food of any kind (I just completely chucked the device), caffeine, nicotine, isolated supplements (whole plant or blends work much more holistically), and even cut out alcohol 100%. The defining between "needs vs. wants" was pivotal. I cancelled all television streaming and decided there was no show I needed to watch that couldn't be easily purchased as a DVD. I stopped paying for internet and began utilizing my local library instead. My focus on rigorous exercise, particularly in the woods, deep in nature increased drastically as did my overall physical health, dragging my poor mental health reluctantly in tow. It was slow and stubborn, but it came along and the effects have been revolutionary.
So now with my art the why has become evident. Reclaiming our mental health from society is far more important and crucial to our own physical health and that of our climate than most folks realize. I want to make art that highlights this reality and simultaneously shapes my future in a way that will put me permanently into my element - out in the woods, caring for the bees, and bringing healthy food to a world that needs it.
Comments
Post a Comment