Depression… it’s a bitch.

It’s not sadness, it’s an emptiness, lack of enthusiasm (what’s the point) bullshit, adverse to doing anything to make it better. Wanting to tell the world, it’s a trap. Not interested in struggling, with my physical manifestations absent, I hope to wake up different. I’m annoyed with myself. Actively bored with myself. Waiting it out. Not wanting to interact. Then saying something requires responding, which I really don’t want to do. So what is this?? A message in a bottle?

Bed is a sanctuary, an island, a vacation from dealing with intangible eventualities. It is depression’s nature (yes a personification) to be this way, it’s important I don’t forget. That it’s also my nature, that can be so frustrating to people around me, although I don’t really care in this moment, which undoubtedly morphs into remorse.

I wasn’t going to post this, but maybe it’s important to share what this is like. To articulate… I often write things and not share it. It’s a tactic to not getting myself in trouble on social media. I tend to have momentary emotionally driven XYZ. But this isn’t directed at anyone, so perhaps an appropriate dissection. There is no secret I have bipolar disorder.

I don’t like people thinking of me as less capable, the look on someone’s face, acknowledgment of being ‘special’ makes me want to run circles around them, pummel them with insight, drop my body of creative work at their feet and ask “what have you done with your life?” In truth, wishing I could trade my gifts for… something I could never have. I’ve come to terms (more or less) that I am different than most. Depending on my state of mind, that could be a good thing.

I have names for the aspects of my personality I don’t like. Brad and Vic. When I’m in a mood, I can indulge it, which prolongs the phase. Brad is a bitch, who complains and deprecates himself. Sometimes I can be irritable. And Vic is a dick that starts arguments and wants to destroy what I’ve built. Neither is good company. When Brad and Vic get together, I can be a real asshole, so I try not to expose anyone to that part of me.

So I wait until it’s over, until I can interact with other humans. For right now, I’m going to continue to hang with Vic, that’s a dick and Brad, who’s a bitch. At least until I can get them to fucking leave.

Sacrifice + Abandon

“Sacrifice & Abandon” 🎨 by Dan Victor. 12 x 9” #Watercolor#Graphiteon paper. It began with a photo in the newspaper of an old man…

I had been living at my mother’s house after moving back from San Diego in 2002. I had just turned 25 & moved there to get away from drinking too much. I thought it was seasonal depression, so I needed to go somewhere sunny all the time.

I realized once I was in Cali, I had something wrong with me. I was away from my support network and getting drunk every day with the band. Depression and anxiety had hit an all time high. Why???

I was unable to financially or physically take care of myself, so my stepfather came out and drove me back to NJ. #forevergrateful I had to live with them while I sought mental help. 

Not able to work, I started painting again. And watching a shitload of rentals from Blockbuster. I had the unlimited plan, but could take out only 3 at a time. I would watch all 3, drive back, rent another 3 in hopes of finishing them to rent a total of 9 movies in one day… it happened a couple times.

Even though I was catatonic, completely sober & on heavy meds, I could paint.

It wasn’t until I was 30 that I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder by a good psychiatrist that immediately put me on the right meds, after trying many of both.

I saw a newspaper in my local paper of an old man, looking for subject matter to paint. I saw this guy in a band piercing out this window. I connected the 2. 

The old man was sad and doing something reluctantly which he new would cause harm, but a ‘lesser of evils’. He was leaving his adult son, but the question remains… why?

My father was absent a lot of the time, but my grandfather filled the void. 

Pop-pop. A kind man. So good to us, but always had a similar look on his face. I wondered what he had done to feel the way his face spoke.

The son behind the glass what’s to understand why. It was the question I was asking myself. How can I reconcile those you look to offer passive neglect or absolute control? 

This painting attempts to communicate the regret we may feel for something we know will cause harm. And still… not looking back.

🤔 Would you get this on a t-shirt?
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