i feel like my brainworms are legit nerfing me
oversharing ahead but i honestly don't care nor see this as a big deal. what's the point of living if i can't talk about my life
i'm not sure what to do about it... one thing they don't warn about when it comes to recovery, you kind of go "backwards" in your timeline, unfolding deeper and deeper traumas. this leads to addressing needs that for most healthy individuals have been satisfied during appropriate stages of development. and it's kind of hard to navigate through, and the deeper into childhood, the harder. and the dumber some issues are.
like...
i identified one of major sources of my art block through noticing the same pattern while learning japanese. i have an exam next month, and i'm sitting here just clowning around, avoiding touching my workbooks. i don't have any struggles learning it. in fact, i'm catching things quickly and if i practiced, i would have been better. but i just can't make myself study, and the block is so strong, it's paralyzing me the same way my art does.
why learn or do anything, if 1. there are people who are better at it, from those who studied better to native speakers, or in case with art, are more creative and have been going to art school since they fell out of the womb 2. i get nothing from it, no praise, no attention, nothing. no change in attitude towards me (this phrasing suits better, considering what i'm about to say next)
and one can think of bajillion things to debunk these points. like, who the fuck cares, do what you like, engage in things that make you happy, also learning skills or expressing oneself through art doesn't render "nothing" as a result, like, it's obvious how both can be monetized, if we're going for "practical" needs, and how many other opportunities await me that can broaden horizons and enrich my existence.
but... but.
the entity we're trying to tell these things isn't the current, conscious mind of 30 year old me.
it's an ostracized, bullied, weird tween that seems to be doing good at school, where the kid finds escapism from issues at home. the kid is called a goddamn little genius at first, but eventually it all becomes boring or doesn't go in line with school program, it's annoying, the kid is fucking annoying too, can't come up with anything useful or worthy everyone's time. so the kid scribbles random shit to escape or vent about both school and home life. or just embraces art. and hey, looks like these skills are cool and complex enough to catch everyone's attention once again and be the cool artist daughter/cousin/friend/whatever i was called to have, i'm considered talented and useful again. for a while. didn't last long because it's all still essentially useless. aaaaaaaaaaaaaa help
(ok random cringy note but i have been thinking recently how fandom often draws spamton the way i used to dress in my mid teens; the time when every bit of hope or resemblance of peace in my life crashed beyond retrieve. he's my spirit animal now)
like. words and lack of full background (which i won't go into in public obviously sjxjskxsxj) can't really explain why something that doesn't sound like a big deal as i type it left such a huge impact on me. my life at home was like a pure nightmare at some point, and came with serious baggage i still yet to unpack. my life at school sucked a lot, except for two years where i switched schools and it brought some relief, albeit temporarily. there were days where i would spend a whole night up, being on full alert for any random reason, including physically fighting or eavesdropping every noise i can hear behind my door, hoping i won't get stabbed or raped in my sleep. that's why i have issues sleeping these days and wake up from every tiny fucking noise. and after that, i would go to school and say i literally couldn't do my homework and none of these fuckheads cared, they called me useless, lazy, and threatened with consequences. yeah, "being useful" became tied close to "having a right to live" because of all the fucking mess that went on, the puzzle is coming together.
~
as i was reading pete walker's book "complex ptsd: from surviving to thriving", bits about describing traumatized children growing into completely dysfunctional adults, to the point where they're on disability and literally can't function at all, i thought about how i essentially sabotaged myself through thing i described above.
if i didn't deliberately ruin everything, i may have had a network of artists at this point, probably opportunities that i can't even think of, stable income, probably also a stable community, but i just dipped right when i was getting more and more interesting commission requests, getting more known, merch being done with my art, people being interested in my stuff, getting some cool opportunities, some of which were even about to spread outside fandom circles...
that hole of void inside, that feeling of uselessness and not being enough, has been growing (along with other issues i had, but still) until it burst and i was avoiding it all like plague, saying "no" to everyone who came to me until they stopped coming, obsessing over being the lamest artist featured everywhere, being afraid to create because it felt like i'm ruining paper/canvas/digital spaces/etc with my essence, that i'm not allowed to make myself present in anyone's life, unless i earned that right through being "useful", and even then i still experienced paranoia and severe anger issues and so, so, so many other things that led me to be diagnosed with a mood disorder, a personality disorder, and then put on antipsychotics and antidepressants.
...
you know, now that i'm typing this all out, i'm thinking that this made it all even worse. i'm even more scared of approaching these issues, because now they have a "take a pill and shut up" layer to it. "you're born useless and don't have a place among us, sedate yourself so you stop being a nuisance to everyone". "no, the world is completely fine, you're the broken one". "normal people live fine with X and Y, you're just crazy, delusional, sick, yOuR BraIn ChEmIcAlS ArE OfF meNtAL iLLness Is WHen Ur BraIn Is BrokeN1!1 MentAl DisorDers ExisT In VacUuM U jUsT WeRe BorN MenThollY EEL TAKE THIS COCKTAIL OF DANGEROUS DRUGS WITH A BUNCH OF SIDE EFFECTS THAT WILL KILL THE REST OF YOUR MIND!!111"
i have no idea in the fucking slightest what to do. i'm doing much, much better than ever. i could even say, i'm very close to being normal, at least in the way i define it. but everything that has to do with vague definition of occupation, hobby, and collective/community? i'm kinda just brute forcing things as of now, idk.
but i don't think i can push it this way for long, cuz... progress in my skills doesn't heal. using a new language doesn't heal. finishing projects, no matter how fun or cool, doesn't heal. getting praised for these doesn't heal. getting paid for my art (or anything at all in theory) doesn't heal. socializing doesn't heal, i just do it in spite of lil demon behind my shoulder constantly whispering me that i'm everyone's laughing stock/annoyance/whatever and everyone i'm interested in wants me away. having some people prove these delusions to me in the past few years didn't help either.
maybe i'll come to solution later, as i always do, but as of now... i'm stuck and i don't know where to start
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