Survive or Thrive?

Why are we so blind to the struggles of others?  Why do we stand by and watch, when all we need do is offer a hand, or a shoulder to lean on?  To let that person know they are not alone? Not to try and fix things with a plaster or cast, but be a physical presence in that person’s life. A guide.  A mentor.  A friend.

It’s easy to say ‘its ok’ when you are distanced from it, removed from the emotions it brings on – like a wave of darkness.  There is no meaning behind it, and it has no function but to stop you in your tracks. People try to rationalise it, but it can’t be rationalised.  It’s instinctual, its primal.  It’s like drowning.

You try your hardest to keep afloat, swimming up and up, only to get dragged back down to the bottom, mouth and ears full of water – no voice, no sound.  An endless hole, a place simultaneously sanctuary and prison.  Hide away and lose your life, expose yourself to the sun and risk getting burned.

I knew I suffered from depression at around 26/27.  Up until that point I just brushed it off as being ‘sad sometimes’.  I feel sorry for my boyfriends before and during.  How I hurt them.  I dragged them both down with me and left them there to put themselves back together.  They couldn’t help me.  I begged them for help, but there were no words to describe the form in which that help should take.  I’m sorry I hurt you both.  I was selfish and I know that now.

I took pills to calm my nerves and help me sleep, I spoke to professionals and I turned 30.  That was a turning point for me.  For years I tried to mould myself into the person that people/society thought I should be.  At 30 I had a fuck that moment and decided to do the things that made me feel comfortable.  I found an anchor.  I found myself.  I realised that rather than be the victim, I would be the hero.  Be hopeful rather than helpless.  Of course I had my family and friends to help guide me, but ultimately I built my own foundation, found my center of gravity, equilibrium (whatever you want to call it).  Sometimes it fails epically, but I always try to get back to where I am most me.  My art and practice helps immensely and I advocate finding a hobby or craft, something that can help you express what you are going through when words fail (as they do so often).

My first solo ‘Land of the Giants’ explores this acceptance of self and other.  I made it for my auntie Margaret, who unfortunately passed away this year from cancer.  She never saw it, but I know that she would have understood and appreciated it.  She gave me my first set of juggling balls and I mastered how to juggle three.  Now it’s time to master four.