Phase 5- Let go

I've just awoken, fresh tears in the corners of my eye surviving x amount of time I just slept. I believe I just dreamt of Francis Bacon. One of my 3 main mentors urged me to research the artist, finally I dropped everything else in desperation searching for something relatable as the darkness was urging me to take my life. I lost control, and when you can't attain, you need to lose to gain.

I spent the past year trying to fix myself. I was doing pretty well, eating right, working out, zen attitudes. I was the good mystic. Facebook fed my approval issues with positive trends influencing others. It was all about the big picture. The objective of these changes that painfully consumed all my time was to transform these actions into some type of muscle memory. An automatic form of whole living to make access to my art more attainable. As previously state the end goal was to paint freely.

It seems like I am mocking those changes. Those changes , the routine, discipline sacrifice made my life 10 times more enjoyable. I made tons of friends attracted people because of the ways of changing my emotional state.

I proabably should of never stopped doing that. Hell, I wouldn't be in an again slobby room I spent 15 hours straight cleaning out of misery, overweight, covered in chocolate and shame, blind from losing my glasses dancing in the street at a red light bla bla bla.

In that time I spent most of it cooking organizing working out. I had no way to create, no time. So with all that I seemed to confine my emotions, refusing myself to feel. Because of the fear of other peoples reactions to my feelings. I have almost lost the closest person in my life, I did lose people, blew a lot of stuff up because of my immuturity, compulsions, anxiety, just pure force of negative emotional tornadoes.

I do still believe my current diagnosis is bullshit. As stated I have the facts proof and research to back it up. I believe that my original diagnosis is emotionally environmental based but the similarity in the symptoms are to the mocking level. So even though I am trying to undo all this damage that has made my life so hard to live (cognitive function dwindling from wrongfully prescribed meds etc) that doesn't make it right to deny myself that I am an emotional person regardless. That without these emotions I wouldn't be good at what I do. That my love for people make it hard for me to function because I am trying to save the world. My feeling are so intense at times I feel like I take them from other people. I need to take this darkness and transform it as a creator or dreamer and innovator and construct is as a empathetic relate-able powerful or just plain healing sense of imagery.

Because no one wants to be alone..........................forever.
 But if I take all that darkness from others and I have the ball or tar in my hands and cannot transfer it to canvas because oddly the world does still spin without me (sigh) it will honestly take me down with it and manifest my body.
So I went from being miss perfect to the fear that I wasn't feeling much inside. Even though I felt so much for people i oddly have become unable to show show my empathy or interest in others daily lives.  Because I was losing who I was still am party of it is gone. So this self obsessive search of Who Am I, is going on.I feel so guilty too, I know how I come off and I can't stand it. I seem to talk a lot about myself hoping that the vain words that pour forward combine with others words into a paragraph of self identified description. That in reality I really don't give that much a shit about myself. The truth is I want to figure this out and move on. Or I am alone a lot or was alone to try and focus into a trance world changing artist and whatever it is that I have been doing doesn't work.

So for some reason it started breaking out a little bit at a time the emotion). I first didn't have my period for 8 months. I think it was from overworking the extreme diet, paleo and working out. I was secretly going to a cancer center which I never followed through with my check ups. My beaus nails and low immunity I think was just an extreme thing. They were just checking my blood nothing was diagnosed. I want to be a professional skilled artist so bad that I do all these things and I don't care about my physical being at times. I was always a hard worker and people mocking tones corrupted me into displaying that I am hardcore.

I'm just realizing that I am a combination of exhibitionist and masochist in live form. Look at my nails the dirt and ruggedness. Look at the bruises the tired lines my physical deteriorating state. Look at the way I slump, and do not hold my stuff I will walk in pain and enjoy the hard work that I have always done. In my pearls, in my dress, my nice lipstick as my fibro I never treat aches my every move carrying 40 lbs of art supplies in high heels.

Since I haven't been able to finish any 2d work my being has become a work of art itself. The way I dress, when I eat something because I can't live without Art. And I haven't been able to stay in the zone and I am suffering. I am suffering bad. I can't even think from all this anxiety and when I can't think I can't draw. You see lines, you see those rugged lines on my paper. But that isn't me it doesn't feel good. It's settling. People like this settling stage this style and I want to scream: "It is not me. "

I never have time it seems, I never know when I'll have the energy for these ideas so even when I am drawing that body searching for mastered perfections I don't have the time to breathe, to erase, because every move is the wrong one. The eyes everywhere, who do you think you are. You can't draw, you have no discipline. Do you even listen, You don't take this seriously, let go, breathe listen to this music, ramp up your energy, slow down your energy, take this angle. Focus Focus.

That small paragraph is 1/1,000,000,000 of what stresses me each day. And with all of this again I haven't been able to feel. So it started. I'd get so thankful when some tears started to come back. I realize my tears are now a sign of inner truth. I am so out of touch with my body I don't know how I feel about things internally. Unfortunately my stress has been so bad I am losing my ability to smell taste, touch.

I don't know when I am full, because my art is not being fulfilled pleasantly that void is starving my soul- so now I got a binge problem. I don't want pity, I want to be free. I want to help others. I am sick of being late to places ,seeming like I am just taking from people. I am also sick of the moments I feel free at last being robbed from me.

So then the tears and stuff made me realize how I really felt then my mojo got reawakened full intense by a male downtown (who I will never admit in a million years I am focused thank you) so that full range of intense passion and need has been  nagging at me.

So I began feeding my medically induced mania lately, to keep that zone or whatnot. Doing completely opposite. Drinking caffeine, listening to impulsive pop music I have emotions I haven't had for awhile. Even so, I am not that little girl with a tiger in her throat who screams to get her way.(In an aggressive way I have tantrums but usually when I am secretly tired and in pain) Honestly the emotions come out from holding it in so long.  Almost Every time I feel publicly with family , I still get blamed for this bipolar thing when in reality I am a fucking human and I am upset because my rooms a mess from trying to be successful I spent 4 hours trying to do something that should take 10 minutes because I lost my passcodes I can't think , technology isn't working I ran into people that needed help my phone rang 10 times I am in need of exercises, I had to go get this medicine go to this doctor my tire popped , I missed this appointment, I am in huge pain blablablabla.

It's life, this stuff happens, but can I not feel ashamed of crying a little because all of that has happened in a day? Would you honestly want to cry if you were told of being too emotional because of an illness you didn't have. Because when you are sad you are seriously enabled making it worse because you won't be able to handle the world?

I cry, and I need to cry more. I need to be upset. I am an expressionist for fucksake. I am real. People see that, they know I am real. They know I mean what I say because I intend to do it. Sometimes, well often, my ideas are so grand I can't control them so what I want to do doesn't happen but I meant it when I said it.

So looking at Bacons stuff, all that emotion, all those shameful taboo thoughts he said doesn't fucking matter. Because he is an artist. He is a raw artist based on emotion. That pride in imperfection made him successful.


So am  I. Even though it's tough training to enhance my surrealism. I just want to put that into paper and feel complete. I just want to fly and let go and create. Make my bows finish my stuff without all this guilt . The right way, if it doesn't feel good it sucks.

And I can't create right now. I try to rest but I feel those ants again. The distortioned critters saying my life is wasting away. It is kind of I want to be all around the world and I barely am anywhere but downtown. I have to figure out what to do. I am in deep. This is what I am meant to do.

I always talk how I enjoy imperfections in life and people especially in physical form because people always think I am perfect and it makes me uncomfortable. But maybe I did do or well that I have been trying to be. So I don't fall again.

Ive been so ashamed at my gifts. When I think back about the people who really cared about what I say in artspeak, it's when I get that passion of expressing pain or the way the world is in some forms that I see tears well up in their eyes. And when I am talking and that is happening my words and passion is so deep that right there in that moment it latches onto their spiritual heart and helps them feel what they forgot , THAT is what I need to get on paper. That is what I have been working on.

Spuratic works or whatever this is all I can do. Because I am supposed to. The responsibility is wearing on me. I feel if I don't create from this wisdom from divine dreams inner reflection I am letting others down. I have to feel, I have to feel everything. I have to get it down on paper, I have to study. I am trying but I cannot deny my right as an emotional person. I don't know what I need to do, but I am in fear of losing control. I am my own worse enemy. Every ticking second is a ticking second wasted.

Because of my past trauma it's the fear of what people could be saying thinking or do to me that has making me play it safe. Well I need to hurt because that is how I create masterpieces of art.

Get out of your fucking head and just do it.

It's just not easy to study anatomy when you are like THE SKULL OF THE DEMON OF TIME, but I'd rather draw the skull of the demon of time then the skull of how do i look how is my pencil what are people thinking of me I must do everything perfect I can't think god I am so delusional.

Thank you Francis Bacon for your raw art Thank you Grandma for Famous Artists handbook I just woke up on ( Fell asleep on emotional distortion HAHA)

God Jes if your going to binge on genetically modified horseshit at least do it on something fucking delicious.

I think a release of passionate emotions if you know what I am saying will help calm this tidal wave. For now I got these stupid boxes to draw  and some more sleep.

I've learned:

I work really hard, I forgot I have a "disability" I can't control as much as I try, that I will figure it out and I will get there because I want it and for good intentions.

I pray I can finish the projects I want, and draw because I love to again. I miss it so much, so damn much I miss my lost love.

I am a hott mess, but it wouldn't be me if it wasn't a mess, a pile , a trip, a break. Passion doesn't come timeless glass globes. It comes in marbles breaking in every direction. Turning, rolling with lights reflecting the core bouncing off everything it can illuminate. I lose  my marbles often but they will always come back. They are a part of me, I am a mess you can balance that jar but you can't glue it to the table. Marbles are meant to roll, and as I roll into all my random situations I hope I roll into an intimate one where my soul can talk and cry all it wants and others can cry with it.

To hankies

And with that I bow.

Again this grammar is going to make like the wind and blow.