So remember when I said that the Pointy Plague Doctor was changing and I was okay with that? That’s a big fat lie. I’m getting better, I’m getting more okay, I’ve reached a place of real calm in my life and things are going the best for the first few “Back to School” feels ever. But I’m not sure how okay I am with it.

It feels like more than just an addiction to habit – although, who knows the truth of what is actually going on on the inside of me. It’s like some parts of my dysfunction were actually load bearing walls for the construct of the self I’m familiar with, and right now I’m managing to be simultaneously coping with life better than I ever have, and dissolving into a panicked mess about who I am and what I’m for.

Okay, I’m not really dissolving into a panicked mess. That only happens when I look at things. Then I can sense that nugget of panic, swirling in my stomach going “what now? what now? Is this enough? I think it’s enough? In fact it’s more than I can do anyway, so why go looking for more?!”, but day to day I just have this slightly “lost” feeling going on.

I’m okay, I’m really really okay. There’s no need for red flashing lights and panic and urgency. Even my physical symptoms of stomach pain and discomfort and the chest pains and the insomnia have much reduced (although there are some small flare ups with the return to school, leading me to conclude that stress is a huge contributing factor for me). My life doesn’t feel out of control, it no longer feels like circumstances are running me, and yet.


Is it just that I was so used to things feeling outside of my control and now it feels weird not being like that, like when you take off a long-worn ring and you can’t stop feeling its absence?


Adrift is the word that’s popping unsummoned into my brain whenever I ask the question “How am I feeling?”. And lonely.

Maybe I’m just getting around to accepting the inevitable state of aloneness that comes with our consciousness trapped inside these meat-vehicles for such a tragically short span. Maybe that word, that “lonely” can be the arrow that points the way for my drifting soul.

Could that be the point? Connection, communication. And what other way is there for us but through art. Art. Not drawing or painting or poetry or music. Art. The art of communicating. Of putting our unbearable selves into a form that is more purely naked and exposed than any one description could make it seem. Is that why we are driven to create things?

Of course I’m saying nothing new here, it’s not even new to me. It’s just that I’m really really feeling it today. About how much it really matters to me to try and use words or lines on a page to sketch something of my nature and serve it up on a platter for others’ eyes. For them to see how I’m the same as them, but also with some unique self-scent on it is me.

I love reading and viewing things others have created and getting the “It me!” feeling. Yet when I create, am I asking “It you too?” or am I saying “Look at me! And all my weird differences!”? Does it matter what I’m trying to say, or does it only matter what people read in it?

I’ve been really surprised – and pleasantly so – when people have reacted with “It me!” to even the meandering writings here, and even more so to my drawings over at Not Funny, Just True.

In fact I get a sadness when I put something out there explicitly for eyes, and the eyes either slide over it with no connection, or miss it entirely. And I never quite know which thing has happened.

So here we all are, like children shouting “Look at me! Look at what I made! Please like it and thus validate my existence!”

Ah no. It’s not that bad. I think I’ve realised somethings for myself this morning:

  • I want to create things that feel describe my current condition, regardless of their reception in the world.
  • My current condition is constantly changing.
  • I don’t have to describe dysfunction in order to make a connection, I just need to be truthful.
  • There’s still interesting (to me!) stuff going on with me even if it’s not “crazy” and dramatic.
  • Anyway, there’s nothing for it but to try to get “better” in life, even if that’s a bit terrifying and unfamiliar.
  • I still have plenty of dysfunction to keep me in art.