I should know by now never to call my mother when I am looking for comfort from my anxiety.
I just called her on my walk to work so that I could “talk out” some of this anxiety that’s been in my system since last night, especially since I just had dailies with the Norway gig and it’s definitely OVER on Wednesday. So both of my freelance gigs are ending before the month is out and I’m FREAKING OUT about how I’m going to pay my bills.
No sooner do I call her and tell her all of this and my fears about being able to support myself and she says, “I’ll always support you, just not financially.”
And I’m like… okay, look, we both know that I’m freaking out right now so what I don’t need is for you to fan the flames of my anxiety. She could have just said, “I’ll always support you.” FULL STOP and worry about my asking her for money IF it comes to that. Instead, she decided to take the exact fear I’m having and just add a little extra worry to it.
Yeah, my mother still helps me sometimes with money. It’s tough when you work three jobs and 82 hours a week but you don’t get paid for two of those three jobs until up to six weeks later. Sometimes, she floats me grocery money so that I can eat. I acknowledge that I’m goddamned LUCKY that I have a mother and that I have a mother who will help me sometimes.
But I wasn’t asking for a handout. I was asking for reassurance and comfort.
I just found out that one of my freelance jobs is ending in two weeks. Part if me is like, “good” but the other half is freaking out. What am I going to do for money?
I have such anxiety right now I feel like I could puke. I keep telling myself, it’ll be ok, I’ll find something else, but the realistic part knows that I won’t. These jobs were luck handed to me by the kindness of others.
“But what I wanted to say is this: After the period of melancholy is over you will be stronger than before, you will recover your health, and you will find the scenery round you so beautiful, that you will want nothing but paint.”—Vincent van Gogh (via myownliteraryself)
What a terrible day. That plane shot down in Russia, everyone dead. My favorite Elaine Stritch died today. The Thor debacle worsens.
I worked 10 hours straight on freelance. I’m so exhausted. This week has been just awful.
Looking back definitely had a panic attack on Tuesday. I was trapped for 8 hours at my retail job (where I have to smile and make nice with people) with no outlet except secretly posting on my phone. That, paired with the fact that Thor helped me cope with my dad’s death and the shocking realization that they’re taking my coping device away AND running on 5 hours sleeping doing three jobs just cracked me.
I confessed my emotional/anxiety problems on my fan blog and that, along with my inability to embrace this new Thor, I’ve lost a lot of followers.
The general consensus in the Thor tag is that either it’s no big deal because lots of other people have picked up the hammer or that anyone who’s unhappy is a white sexist racist (because they’re lumping in the new Cap with the new Thor so yeah, tumblr logic).
Everyone is missing the point. I love Thor, not some other person wielding his hammer and stealing his identity. I don’t care who gets the hammer, man, woman, or frog, I care that this amazing character that I care about is getting ripped apart, his identity just given away so that Marvel can be progressive. People are saying, isn’t it a good thing that a woman is equal to a man? Of course it is, but why do we have to destroy the man to make her equal? I don’t think elevating a character by taking another one down is a good platform for gender equality. The reply I get is, “too bad.” People are saying “oh, the writer is amazing.” Why would I care if the writing is good when the story is still about stripping Thor like a car for parts and throwing what remains of him nameless in a dumpster?
Marvel has also put me on the same side of this situation as sexist assholes and I will never forgive them for it. It’s traumatic seeing people say I’m sexist/racist/stupid because I’m not okay with the situation.
Ugh. Sorry. I can’t complain on my fan blog because people over there don’t understand my anxiety. Now I’ve got to find a new thing to think about when I have unpleasant thoughts. It used to be Thor but I can’t think about him without bursting into tears so… I don’t want got replace him and my heart is broken.
Man. I am so pathetic. I just feel so much anguish and shame.
Im putting this on my therapy blog because I am irrationally upset and my fan blog I no place for this.
I will preface this by saying I understand that this is irrational and emotional but I cannot feel any other way at the moment and this is what this blog is for. Getting my upset out of me.
I’m at lunch sobbing in the back room because of this stupid Thor stuff. They’re not even letting him keep his name. I just don’t know how they can do this.
I’m so upset. It’s over. I never thought I would wake up today and have my favorite character of all time taken away from me on the name of gender equality.
I don’t want to look at any Thor stuff right now. It’s too upsetting.
I’m so stupid for getting so upset but they’re saying he’s permanently going away and “Thor” is going to be this new woman now and I just can’t handle it. I can’t get over that they’re turning Thor into a batman like mantle for others to wear— Thor doesn’t have another name. I don’t know what to do I can’t even think about him now because I don’t know what to call him. He doesn’t have a new name yet.
I loved this character so much. So many times I’ve drawn him, so many of his adventures and it’s over.
I mean it’s a comic so maybe “permanent” is not forever but how long? Six months? A year? Five years? I wished they had killed him instead of this.
I foolishly made him this happy place for me, never thinking it would be destroyed but it is. Now it’s ruined.
I know in stupid. I know. You don’t have to tell me. I’ll be over it on a few days hopefully. But right now I’m just—
I am so busy. I finished my first full week of working at the three jobs and I am exhausted. I’ve been waking up early so I can be animating before work. Today for example, I animated from 7am until 8:30 and then I walked to work (where I am now) and I’ll be here until about 6pm or so and then I’ll walk back home and work on the illustration stuff for the other game company.
Tomorrow, I’ll be animating from 7:30am until around noon and then I’ll take a short break and then go off to my job from 2 to 8 and then put in hours from 9pm until midnight of illustration work.
Repeat for the rest of the week. :/
It’s super hard. I have never been a morning person and even though I had a lot to do with the two jobs, I still had time to draw and do things for myself. Now, I really don’t get to do anything for myself.
I used to read and check out tumblr as I laid in bed just before going to sleep but now I have to leave my phone across the room at my desk so that I must physically get up to turn off the alarm, so I don’t get to read anymore.
The third job is only for three more weeks, however there is the potential of more work up to a year. So far, it’s doable and manageable but I wonder if it is sustainable? To be perfectly honest, I want a real job. I want a 9-5 (or 8-8, i don’t care) with taxes taken out and health benefits.
Also, when an artist says, “I’m a freelancer” other artists are like, “oh, you must be terrible” because every unemployed artist says that they are “freelancing”. It’s not so bad, but I need the confidence and structure of working. I want co-workers. It’s awfully lonely being all by myself all the time, never interacting with people. It’s all emails and management software. No friends. No camaraderie. No invites to hang out after work. It’s very isolating.
The last time I went to therapy, my counselor suggested I go see a psychiatrist that can prescribe drugs because she thought I seemed depressed and could benefit from meds. She’s said this before but Ms. S doesn’t remember. The one gripe I have about my lovely counselor is that she doesn’t really remember what we talk about and she doesn’t prep before our sessions. So she’s always asking me to tell her the same things over and over again. I like her but it’s difficult to make progress if every session is like the first session. This works in my favor sometimes because I am VERY resistant to being medicated.
I tried it once and it tranquilized me rather than lessened my anxiety. I remember distinctly that all it did was make me feel tired and not want to do anything and it made me gain weight. It did not make me feel less anxious. In fact, it made me feel worse because I was gaining weight and I didn’t feel like doing art. So I went cold turkey off the meds and vowed never to try drugs again.
Ugh. I feel okay today just really tired with my usual amount of anxiety about my life and where it’s going.
Hey folks, apparently 4Chan will be ‘invading’ tumblr as countermeasure against feminists swamping their site tomorrow. Apparently will involve hardcore porn, gore, etc., in the feminist tag. Dunno how bad…
My mother once told me that trauma is like Lord of the Rings. You go through this crazy, life-altering thing that almost kills you (like say having to drop the one ring into Mount Doom), and that thing by definition cannot possibly be understood by someone who hasn’t gone through it. They can sympathize sure, but they’ll never really know, and more than likely they’ll expect you to move on from the thing fairly quickly. And they can’t be blamed, people are just like that, but that’s not how it works.
Some lucky people are like Sam. They can go straight home, get married, have a whole bunch of curly headed Hobbit babies and pick up their gardening right where they left off, content to forget the whole thing and live out their days in peace. Lots of people however, are like Frodo, and they don’t come home the same person they were when they left, and everything is more horrible and more hard then it ever was before. The old wounds sting and the ghost of the weight of the one ring still weighs heavy on their minds, and they don’t fit in at home anymore, so they get on boats go sailing away to the Undying West to look for the sort of peace that can only come from within. Frodos can’t cope, and most of us are Frodos when we start out.
But if we move past the urge to hide or lash out, my mother always told me, we can become Pippin and Merry. They never ignored what had happened to them, but they were malleable and receptive to change. They became civic leaders and great storytellers; they we able to turn all that fear and anger and grief into narratives that others could delight in and learn from, and they used the skills they had learned in battle to protect their homeland. They were fortified by what had happened to them, they wore it like armor and used it to their advantage.
It is our trauma that turns us into guardians, my mother told me, it is suffering that strengthens our skin and softens our hearts, and if we learn to live with the ghosts of what had been done to us, we just may be able to save others from the same fate.
I just had a very minor kitchen gaff, where I dropped a pan coming from the oven and got hot oil all over my leg (not to mention dinner all over the floor). Thankfully only a small part on my foot has a 2nd degree burn but I’m kinda jittery now and am totally comfort eating M&Ms. :/
I’ve been so stressed out this week. Technical problems continue to abound and I haven’t been able to sign the new contract yet. I’m having so many problems I question whether I can do this. I keep telling myself that I just have to make it work for a month.
After six weeks of back and forth, the contract for that animation job in Norway finally came through.
It’s sitting in my inbox and I am riddled with panic. My friend said “the contract is coming this week” for three weeks and I just expected it to keep being put off.
And now I’m so anxious because 1) I’m not quite set up yet (still working on getting the software), though I did buy a whole new computer which is set up and ready to go, and 2) I now have to follow through and do the work.
Whenever stuff like this happens I ALWAYS lie and say, “Oh, I’m so excited” when I really mean terrified. What if I can’t get the program to work? What if the program is too unwieldy and difficult for me to learn? What if my work just isn’t good enough? I don’t want to let my friend down.
What if I can’t do three jobs at once? I know it’s just for one month, this Norway gig is just a four week trial, but I don’t want to fumble the ball here.
I’ve got to sit down today and figure some scheduling things out, even if I don’t follow it at all, at least I’ll have the reassurance of a plan.
I keep telling myself that these are good things. So what if I got his job via a friend? So what if it only lasts a month? It’s one more experience and that’s supposed to be good. This is not the career I pictured for myself, but maybe I’m taking the scenic route.
I just cried three times in my therapy session today.
I told her I was feeling very angry lately and she asked what had set me off and of course I went on about the fucking elitist attitudes that have taken over the city, how even a cup of coffee is a goddamned status symbol. Everything is about money here.
I told her about how little comments and criticisms got me riled up, how more and more people seem to not understand me.
She said that I sounded stressed out and we talked about why, that maybe it was stemming from the fact that I have not been paid for freelancing since April, that at this point he owes me over $2000, that maybe my anger over how unfair it is that the people who make a hundred thousand dollars a year cannot comprehend what it’s like to struggle to buy groceries is really my anger at not getting paid.
Though I will say it’s hard to watch the young elite rich destroy this beautiful city, making it piece by piece into something that only they can enjoy.
So I have a lot of anger. And it’s focused on money or lack of it. Sometimes I hate living in this country.
Feel free to check it out and pester me if I am too lazy to work on my habits. I tend to draw late at night, like around midnight or so, just before going to bed. It’s really the only time I can give myself permission to do non-paying work.