October 16, 2015

Before painting this, I always thought the picture of my depression would be a stark block of black; not even blue.

Blue for me is a feeling; an ocean of water chilling me so I may shiver and keep my body warm the way it was meant to.

Blue I came to realize is good; it means somewhere in there is a possibility of a yellow mix up to create some green- and green is amazing because it means life and growth and hope all around me.

And that is why I cancelled blue as the color of my depression; because joy doesn’t really make it go away.

My depression is black, or so I thought.
Because black is oblivion for me; Like falling through a vortex with no end in sight.

And even though from experience I know there will be an end, I never could guess what ending it would amount to; with the beginning of a dot of light, by falling through a mesmerizing universe of celestial magic or whether it ends with a hard ground of grey, I could never guess.

You just never know with black and that is how I pictured my depression.

Turns out it has colors other than black and blue. There’s the red of anger and pain and blood humming beneath my skin, and the green hope of surviving; frail but there still and the yellow of a warm faraway joy that’s a mere memory.

Most of the time however, it is emotions, dreams and nightmares all mixed up in threads that each hold onto my body all at once and suddenly, like a net tightening around me, it’s like being cut into a million pieces, none of which make sense alone.

So to get back together, I have learnt to wait and trust these all these parts to remember their way home- to remember where they fit.

And it often feels like becoming fluid, flowing through a funnel, letting my parts find their missing edges, and fit into each other like a jigsaw puzzle.

Then I can once again feel my separate toes and fingers remember how they used to work.

And then I’m on my feet as my memories return and I remember how to walk, to run, why to jump and most importantly, comprehensible feeling.

And I will be fine for quite a while before the threads of my emotions, dreams and fears once again tighten about me and split me into a million pieces.

But for a moment, I will be fine.


Journal: Oct.26.2020
Made of Sand
Not Dura, but Alaminadura