Hope holds everything together
Hello, friends.
Times are strange right now. None of us have ever experienced anything like the COVID-19. The swine flu pandemic in 2009 didn't even come close. The world is on edge, and at a time when we most need to be with people, we can't.
Despite all the craziness, I'm feeling positive. Social distancing has led me to find a creative part of myself that I haven't seen for a while. I'm writing more, including this piece for Sainte Magazine on the legend of the black dog and how it became a metaphor for depression. I'm taking photos and making collages. I'm learning to embroider. And I have ideas, so many ideas.
Part of this shift is due to the new stimulant I'm taking, Nuvigil. I've got a few side effects, namely headaches and a bit of nausea, but I'm going to stick with it for a while. Maybe the side effects will go away. Maybe they won't. But when I take Nuvigil, I wake up. My mind is clear, and my body is motivated in ways I haven't felt since before my MS diagnosis. I feel like a person again.
My art right now is a bit clumsy. I'm rusty from years of pushing art into the category of want when really it should be in the category of need. Creating things makes me feel useful, meaningful.
I've been in Tower energy lately, pulling that card over and over again. But after weeks of depression and crying and hopelessness, I think I'm coming out of it. I'm rebuilding, creating a foundation of film and ink and thread. When woven together, these delicate materials become strong. Hope holds everything together.
I'm trying not to overthink things. My art is ugly right now, and that's ok. My life is a little ugly right now too. But this is how we learn, how we grow. I'm learning to see the beauty in imperfection. Mistakes will make me better. I hope they make you better, too.
See you next week,
Yardena