Blowing Bubbles, ca. 1900
I got the depression bubble to pop!
It took a GREAT DEAL of effort, I am not going to lie.
It got dark friends...real dark...I went to places I hadn't visited in a long time.
It was a scary walk through a quiet and dank place.
I even thought about calling my therapist, someone I haven't seen in almost two years; but she gave me the tools and I remembered them as I hung from my fingertips off that cliff.
I worked through it, and used words when questioned in my corner.
I allowed my hubby to see that I was struggling, and he knew what and where I was on my journey. I cried finally and figured out what I was so angry and sad about and then the bubble popped!
It felt so liberating and logical,
I didn't dismiss the process or the work.
It truly SUCKED
Saturday night I had a chance run-in with a collector of my work.
The first question he always has is "You making new work?!"
I answered that I was trying.
....but as hubby and I were walking away he looked at me and said:
"you are always working on something, even when you are not using your hands, you are thinking of new things and brainstorming about others"
This was something I heard: louder then my mean destructive voices, stronger then the giggles The Barreness was whispering into my ear, and clearer then the dark humm of chaos.
Yesterday I spent in the studio, finally!
I took breaks for hugs from hubby
it was like having extra mortar added to my newly restored foundation.