this is a bit of a ramble, i just felt like posting it.
CW: mental health, emotional mushiness, brief discussion of kink, brief mention of suicide
---
so, hello. i swear to god i’ve degraded my eyesight in the past week by a whole point (extremely short-sighted binoclards will get it) (i learned the word binoclard from disco elysium and now i think about it all the time). i feel better about twitter now, but only because i respond to stress by being a complete self-sacrificial maniac and working until my eyes bleed. RIP my personal relationships. i'm mostly joking. people have been so good to me, and i never lose faith in that, even if billionaire scum has the ability to mess up our lives. (i cannot put in print here how i truly feel about him because you know… rules)
i’ve always had problems with mental health, and problems trying to be an artist while fighting what seems like a constant downwards force towards fear and inertia. just managing to get up and draw regularly is a phenomenal feat in itself, and i’m attempting to build a foundation of sageness and stability that allows me to continue practicing it.
i’m sure people here will empathise in various ways, but it’s so good to communicate, to share, to be honest, because life is fucking hard without that. i’m continually surprised by the amount that my artist friends and i need to lean on each other to survive, to help each other every day by quelling fears and sorting out life problems that get in the way of creativity.
to be creative and actively creating is to be in a flow state, and that can be blocked off by so so many things. i'm persistently doing necessary self help, self reassurance, and breaking old habits where i try to close myself off. it’s hard to be vulnerable, accepting help can feel embarrassing. but over and over I'm calmed by the kind and helpful words of those around me (and of course i try my best to help them too), as well as good mental-health/self-help books and videos.
i only just managed to book an appointment that was overdue for a while. i may be able to draw regularly, but i can’t make appointments to save my life. drawing a lot is often at the expense of caring for myself well. i’m working on it. money is always a worry, but i know i’ve got the ability to support myself at the end of the day, even if i’m flying by the seat of my pants. long ago i surrendered any idea that i’d be in a stable, normal job. i don't mean to sound unappreciative of the fact i *can* make money through my art, but to be completely honest with you, it is a brutal occupation at times. ruthlessly competitive, often secluded, totally self motivated, a life that requires being okay with patience, abstractness and pure self direction. we do a lot of... confronting the void. other artists, my friends, my mum, a healthy avoidance of social media, and all my cringey, very woo-woo self help books are pretty much the only things keeping my head sellotaped together.
to get better at art is… obviously… an uphill battle. it requires your ego is in check, and at the same time your self confidence is high enough. and that’s not just getting technically better, but becoming creatively more fulfilled. i’d say “true to yourself”, but that implies there’s an unchanging truth of exactly the kind of art you want to make that you only need to uncover— which is not true. we all change… and the kind of art we want to make changes. what you will be doing is always reevaluating and adjusting to suit your present needs for expression. sounds clinical and boring, but for me that was (to sum it up as fast as possible) drawing lots of sfw art that didn’t ‘rock the boat’ much and might get me a job, then moving towards erotic art which fulfilled me more, THEN moving away from mainstream erotic art towards my own kinks and specific aesthetic that i love.
each time it took SO much introspection and self evaluation to realise something was missing, and it only ever really seems clear in hindsight. but each move brought me to a new level of fulfillment and satisfaction in life. i’m so much happier and proud of my art these days, despite the fact that it’s objectively way more weird and less socially acceptable.
i also realised that i didn’t need to hide it so much around people i knew. i had a lot of shame, and overcoming that, showing people i met the things i draw, was a whole new level of self acceptance. i could go through life without the horrible sense of being a split person, the real life ‘sanitised’ self, and the online ‘porn artist’. i realised people who actually mattered didn’t judge me, were actually into it, and even if they weren’t, they were respectful and we created boundaries so as not to make them uncomfortable. i embraced my life-long interest in BDSM, history, rock bands, fantasy, making comics, and combined it all in art that really makes me feel alive and passionate like nothing else. i decided to be DONE with cringe, embrace my 13 year old self writing gay erotica in maths class on tiny scraps of paper in the tiniest writing you’ve ever seen, and do whatever i feel like. so much of my art is pure catharsis. with the shame beginning to lift, gender, queerness and kink became a bigger part of my life. i shedded a lifetime of baggage, and there’s plenty yet to go. i have so much i’d like to just begin doing.
this is a page from one of my first webcomics that i just dredged up from an old hard drive, from 2011. that’s 11 years ago, so i was 14 at the time. it was about a demon woman banished to earth, so clearly nothing has changed, lmfao. time is a flat circle. nietzsche… or something.
anyway i’ve been writing this because i'm going through a painful, anxiety inducing time in my personal life. i’d rather not talk about what it is exactly publicly but i’m dealing with it. i’m staying positive, and posting this instead of just being quiet and miserable alone. right now i'm letting the friends and family around me support me like a life raft. it’s hard… it doesn’t come naturally to me. writing this feels fine but posting it for others to see isn’t easy, though i think i’d enjoy reading it from another artist. i hope something here is helpful to someone.
being an artist, especially self employed, and being an artist online are all so very difficult. i’m incredibly grateful, beyond words, for what i have. ability, eyesight, a mostly working body, a platform online to share art, no matter how small. one thing i didn’t expect when i was in my early teens, was how grateful i’d be for age. *time* gave me more maturity, agency, new perspectives, and wisdom that keeps the inner fears at bay. i'm excited to age more. what might have taken me over completely years ago is now just a blip where i can’t draw for a few days. i’m stronger against the insecurities that seem to have been baked into me during childhood. over time, some kind of cosmic awareness began seeping into me that it would all be okay, that ending things wouldn’t help. at night, for some reason, my anxieties are all much more heightened, and seasonal depression is kicking my ass right now. i’ve also not slept or eaten well for a while, but i know after all this… and the end of the day… i’ll be fine. shucks… :’)
if anyone needs some reassurance or to talk about shitty mental health, please feel free to drop a message. i can’t promise i’ll be super fast replying, but regardless i seriously can’t emphasise enough… i get you and i see you. i wish i had time to give every single person the attention i want to give, but i know i’m always going to struggle to even find space for my closest friends in this crazy, isolating life of art. reach out to your friends of course, because if there’s one big lesson i’ve learned in 10+ years of being an artist it’s that sometimes you NEED support to continue.
a page from one of my antique medical books. we are all so mushy inside. we are all fragile grey matter, piloting meat hunks around.
do people really want to see this kind of thing? i’m not sure. it felt nice to write. anyway. wow i just realised i, a Brit, posted all this weird gratefulness stuff on thanksgiving by accident. happy strange turkey day to american weirdos. listening to this classic rn.
lots of love,
D