Honest to Blog - Messy

Ang Nicole
May 4, 2020
8 min read

My favourite art is messy.

It is chaos transcribed in any medium.

If a piece of artwork is perfect, I look for imperfections.

Why? Because nothing can be perfect, can it?

How can something be solely perfect?

Isn’t this part of why for years artwork has been revered?

We like ‘different.’

We like ‘unusual.’

We like ‘conceptual.’

Why? Because life is goddam messy!

And messy art is relatable, isn’t it?

Isn’t that why we binge watch stupid shows on Netflix or Stan?

Because, don’t we just want to see other people who have more chaotic lives and feel like our isn’t so bad?

So, let’s dive into the chaos of current life – COVID19.

COVID19 (or the Coronavirus) is the newest nightmare in an otherwise, already, fucked up world.

As someone who struggles with multiple mental health issues I have to say, I think I have actually adapted surprisingly well. Not well in the sense that everything is cruisey and I am just coasting by. For me, "well" means I am getting through most of my work days so that I am already home before I meltdown or get overwhelmed by anxiety… I suppose what I have adapted well to is more the quietness.

I catch the train to work daily, an hour commute from the suburbs into the city.

At first it seemed eerie and apocalyptic to get onto a train with only 4 or 5 others on the same carriage for an entire hour. I looked around me at everyone wearing gloves and face-masks (not the fun beauty type, the scary face covering type) and doing their best to look as uncomfortable as possible so everyone around knew they too did not want to be occupying space in a public mode of transportation.

But after a little while it became ‘normal.’ I found comfort in being able to get on the train and know that EVERY time I boarded, I would get a s

eat, and have ample room!

I started bringing my artwork on the train, even drawing in A3 sketchbooks – knowing I could spread out and not bother anyone.

I now worry about the reverse shock I am going to experience – when this is all over and I have to adjust to being just another cog in the machine, rather than an “essential.”

As someone who works in early childhood education, there was only a few days of this madness where I genuinely feared I may not have work. Luckily enough for me, this unease was calmed by emails daily from our CEO assuring everyone that it would be “business as usual” (aside from tweaks like temperature checks, sanitising EVERYTHING daily, and washing hands so often that you become legitimately concerned about whether this can really be good for you).

I am beyond grateful for the distraction that work has provided for me.

And yet…

On my days off I struggle a LOT.

I find it really hard to feel any kind of motivation when there’s honestly no reason to do anything.

I have artwork I need to do, but I can’t even submit it in person or receive critique/criticism, so I put it off.

I have my puppy who needs walking, but he gets just as much out of playing fetch and running around indoors or in the backyard when I’m around.

I have gained a bunch of weight because all I do is eat, and I am not even in isolation… But being fed fear every time you step out of the house, or look at the news, or any platform of social media, takes a huge toll on one’s wellbeing.

My mind is a mess, despite the fact that in general I have coped well enough thus far to work most of my usual days.

As someone who has many controversial opinions on the government and society in general, for me this time has been an imminent reminder to me how many ‘sheeple’ are so easily controlled. Following orders blindly, some people don’t even question whether they should report their own neighbours. It is scary to realise that quite a lot of people just don’t challenge, question or think about issues for themselves… instead quoting “media” - which in most cases is just social media hysteria.

Living in a house with just my partner and I, I am also grossly aware of the fact that we are grinding each other’s gears. We have so much interaction with just the same person, all the time, that it can be a struggle not to feel oppressed by sadness or anxiety and then take that out on each other.

I do truly believe humans are meant to be social creatures, but we are also reactive creatures. Arguments brew over small issues, blowing out of proportion. Thanks to my BPD, I find that a lot of things set me off so easily lately.

My worldview is challenged daily, so when something in my own home isn’t the way I like it… this becomes a BIG problem for me.

I miss my people - my friends and family, interactions with others (where you aren’t forced to stand behind a line, or plastic shield), puppy play dates…

I have been asked so many times how I am coping during this time.

Truthfully, I am not “coping.” I would say, if anything, I am surviving… just.

Each day I wake up, the same as before, with a coffee and a smoke in the outdoor patio.

I look at the trees that surround me and thank my stars that I am in this place at this time. I try to list in my mind the things I am grateful for, so I can start my day happily.

But some days the list isn’t a list at all… it is a scribble. It is nails on a chalk board. It is the deafening silence from the world around me, reminding me that things aren’t okay.

I worry a lot. Every day I have a new thing that I am stressing over. It stacks on top of all the other worries until it inevitably crashes down, and I am left in a heap on the floor, inconsolable for hours at a time.

On the days I have work it is easier. I get to switch my thoughts off, because children demand presence. They don’t care what is happening on a wider scale, they just want to know what is for lunch and why they are being asked to rest when they don’t want to (even if they so clearly NEED to).

On these days I wake up at 7am, have my coffee and smoke, brush my teeth, get ready and jump on the train. I spend my train trip trying to block out the stress and anxiety caused by the constant berating of announcements on the train which remind me that COVID19 restrictions are in place. Sometimes I draw, other times I colour in, I google things I want to know (like what a baby platypus is called… it’s puggle by the way). Today I am spending my train trip writing this. I listen to music to cover the announcements as best I can. I try to listen to music that keeps me calm. Ethereal music has been a strong vibe lately, mostly a lot of Aurora.

When I get to work I always take my meds and start my day.

I have formed some really strong bonds with some of the children lately who seem to need extra support. It must be so scary and unsettling for them to come in and only have 2 or 3 other peers to play with. At least we understand. Their beautiful, tiny minds are still trying to grasp all of it.

Being needed helps me a LOT.

I feel like I have a purpose when I am working. It makes me feel loved. And my colleagues have all been such a strong support to each other!

After work things are different. The moment I get out of the elevator and head for the train my resolve fizzles. I look around and nobody is bustling about the city. It is quiet, too quiet. There are no buskers, no shops open… just silence.

It is sobering.

I get on the train and the ride home feels like it takes hours.

I have nothing to look forward to.

There are no holidays booked, no chance of spontaneously going away for the weekend, no catch ups set in place.

I have spoken to people who have described a very similar experience. This whole ‘sit on the couch’ mode we all seem to get into as we wait for normalcy to return.

At the start I used Facetime people quite often. I checked in with everyone. I chatted for hours with friends… but it was all a novelty at that point.

Now I avoid it. Calling people serves as a grim reminder that I can’t see them, and I really don’t have a lot to say other than “nope, I am not doing super great… and, nope, I don’t really want to talk about it.”

I get home and sit on the couch, after changing into pyjamas. I eat, I watch Netflix, I play with my puppy or brush my cats fur, then I go to bed.

It isn’t so much that I have ‘coping strategies.’ More than anything I am just waiting for this all to be over.

When I have ‘episodes’ I am too scared to go into the hospital because I don’t want to be put into psych. Plus all they ever seem to do is load me up on Valium or anti-psychotics and send me home. Once the haze wears off I am still feeling all the same things, except it’s been postponed by a few hours.

My partner is a moment away from breaking point. He is struggling to handle how much I am struggling.

He used to try to support me, but now he is just trying to support himself because this is taking a toll on him and he just doesn’t know what else to do – for himself, or me.

I know what I am supposed to do, most of the time. I know the “skillsets” that I have been taught through DBT workbooks and psychology sessions. But I get angry that I need them. I get so frustrated that I can’t just deal with things like others can. Other people are so rational and can talk themselves into understanding the moment, or the circumstances. I just get angry, or depressed, or anxious, or suicidal.

I do try to do some of the self-care stuff. I paint my nails, I do face or hair masks, I have baths, I do breathing exercises, I shop online… I have also done a lot of iso baking and cooking. I have always enjoyed cooking, so it isn’t like this is a new thing for me, but it is a welcomed distraction.

I have made chocolate pudding, panna cotta with vanilla bean poached pears and rhubarb that was topped with praline, also banana bread, sticky date pudding with butterscotch sauce, copious amounts of risotto, gnocchi from scratch, my partner bought a hibachi grill so we also made yakitori together, scalloped potatoes, roasted pumpkin and goats cheese salad… just a crazy random mix of delicious foods.

I eat. WAY too much, WAY too often.

And that kind of makes me even more depressed because now my clothes don’t fit the same, but I just don’t have the motivation to get up and do anything about it. And then I cry. Because I hate myself.

The hardest part of all this is not knowing what is “real.”

I have all these fucking emotions and it is so hard to tell what a rational amount of emotion is, and what is just my BPD just fucking me up.

And then I cry more…

Because I wish more than anything that I just wasn’t this way.

Some days the BPD wins, some days I do.

But really, I am just trying to get to the other side of all this shit. And that, more than anything is what gets me by…

And although this Blog Post isn’t exactly any kind of major revelation, I just thought I would share with you where I am at.

I hope everyone is safe and well, and getting through this with a sense of resolve that is far better than mine! If you need there is a great link you can CLICK HERE that goes into detail how to cope with isolation and being at home.