It's been awhile. I'm going through some big changes in my life, and my own comics got left behind for a bit. I felt lost, but I'm slowly coming back to myself and to my art. And that comes with a lot of massive feelings, which all have a part in this process of finding my way home in myself.
Disappearing is no longer a valid life choice. I have made up my mind.
My mascot~ She’s so cute. I love her. Venting a bit. long story though~
I got invited to my college classmate’s art exhibit. His works are amazing! But I got there late, almost closing, all my other classmates already left, and I had been stuck in bed for the last couple of days before this. Bummed out that I have to wait a whole week to talk to the nearest psychiatrist so I could finally get meds. I was tearing up throughout the commute. Maybe I consumed too much sugar this week. idk~
The artist says hi, asks me how I’ve been. “I’ve been feeling numb lately.” I don’t hide these feelings anymore, though it’s probably not good to overshare either. I guess I was asking for help. And he advised me to paint. We are, after all, painting majors. I haven't painted on a canvas ever since I was at school though. I have been told this many times already. I don’t feel anything about that comment anymore. I guess, if I really need to, I’ll stick with ink.
But I do love this one piece of his with traditional Filipino furniture. It’s soft pastel over construction blueprint tracing paper on stretched canvas. It’s very interesting and so pretty and intricate so I asked him how he prepared it. Grey primer on canvas, gel matte medium to stick the blueprint to it, and acrylic pastel primer on top. Talked about the quality of the blueprint paper too. Something new to me~ That short conversation did lighten my mood a bit. I wish I get to talk like this more.
Didn’t really say goodbye--chose to walk back towards the main road rather than take a trike so I could actually cry a bit. I don’t really want to calculate how much I spent just on commute. Spent some more on dinner and ice cream. I’m just so emotionally pent up.
The classmate who invited me there invited me again to another exhibit that is really far away. I declined immediately. Commuting is just so tiring. Told her about how bad my mood was and my plans on getting meds. She shared how she had a miscarriage and post-partum depression and the ten years she lost to it before getting into painting again. She lives with other artists now, away from her family. She says she’s better nowadays. Then we say our goodnights.
After about 20 mins? I talked to her again. I’m a bit irked so I had to ask her what she meant by “Blacked out” and told her how depression had been messing with me since highschool. Turns out her PPD is quite severe that she was hurting herself throwing/breaking stuff. It turns out we had the same family problem with having siblings with disabilities and that our mothers force their care on us because we were firstborn. She was also told “Take care of OUR child.” and that there are no competent men in the family. I guess in the end I felt lighter knowing I have a comrade.
