Three Ways NOT to Deal with Pain

As I have struggled with depression in the past, I wanted to share ways that I thought were helping me feel better, but were actually making me feel worse.


Three ways I am pretending to deal with my emotions, when I am actually perpetuating them: 

1. Not Doing Anything to Help Myself

It is easy to feel like a victim. Yet every effort toward well-being counts. When I stop making effort, the cycle of helplessness becomes stronger. The less I make active decisions, the more powerless I feel.

The more I start to look at ways to better myself, the mere act of this awareness creates hope.



2. Avoiding Responsibilities

My problems can tempt me to feel exempt from life. Pain can become an excuse. Ironically, this can lead to an attachment to depression, anxiety, etc. as it can keep me in a comfort zone lacking accountability.

I always feel better when I take care of what I need to do. A feeling of competence has always helped me to feel like I matter.



3. Lying in Bed

No one can deny the need to rest. Other times, I use rest as avoidance. The difference lies in what my integrity tells me. True rest will leave me feeling restored. If time in bed leaves me with a sinking feeling, I know I'm not really happy with that decision, and that's certainly not a restorative state.

Energy builds energy. Action creates momentum.



I have struggled with all three points at certain times in my life. It helps me to review this now and again, so I maintain the self-awareness to correct these common pitfalls.

Why Most People are Not Doers

I had a friend send me an upset message today.

She had posted a photo on Facebook, and almost immediately, her professor from her grad school days tells her how much he disapproved.

I can understand both where my friend and her professor are coming from. What interested me most about the situation though is that despite the friction over the photo, ultimately, my friend created something. And despite the disapproval, she is still posting more photos.

She is still executing.

Some people are great doers; some are not. I have been on both sides of the spectrum. I've realized many times I fail to do what I want to do because I fear it won't be nearly as grand as it is in my mind. I'm pretty sure I'm not alone.

Another friend posted a message to herself on Facebook. It went something like, "Okay self, get it in gear. You have five days of free time to write your book. You know your story is going to be big--right up there with Lord of the Rings, so start writing it now."

I thought, "Wow, when did she get her exciting idea?" I figured it must be a new development in her life. I had the chance to ask her about it in person. She's had this same idea for over fifteen years and has yet to actually write about it.

Another person once talked about his book idea for a solid fifteen minutes, and after he was done talking, I still had no idea what his book was about.

A young woman once told me she was so excited to write her book. I asked her what it was about and she said, "I can't explain it, but it's going to be the next Harry Potter."

I love these people, but none of them are actually doing anything!

When I think about my friend who is putting herself out there and getting a little hurt, it makes me realize many of these other people are not getting down to the nitty gritty because some part of them fears failure. Especially because they've set their sights so high.

It can be pretty disappointing when you put yourself out there and you get a negative response. Or worse, no response. But the benefit my photographer friend has is she can learn from the experience, and learn to deal with risk. She is ahead, because having someone critique your work means work exists to be critiqued.

Bonneville

"I wanted to thank you for coming to Bonneville High School today. . . .

To be completely honest I almost cried when you started talking about that subject because I had felt the same way as some of the people you described and just hearing their stories helped me. . . ."

This is part of an email I just read.

I started the day at this high school by showing these students my early stamp portraits: John Lennon, Michael Jackson, and a self-portrait in butterflies. Then I show them the painting that changed the way I've interacted with people as an artist and a person: a painting of a young woman whose arms are covered in scars.

After sharing the story about this girl who commissioned me to paint her portrait so she could face her self-harm, I show them my BFA portraits: five faces of people who have overcome self-harm, created with a rubber stamp symbolizing their recovery. I show them my self-portrait, and tell them that for two years of my life, I cut myself. I had no role models for how I would get past my struggle. I didn't even have a word for what I was going through.

This is the main reason I feel I am in these high schools right now. If I can give these students hope that they can come out the other side, then I feel I am doing them a good service.

This is my third high school, and it always feels intimidating to walk into a place I've never been before with all these teenagers walking around. I see them laughing together as I balance my portraits between my arms. I get up in front of the class prepared to tell them the most personal details of my life even though we've never exchanged a single word until today.

Sometimes as I'm speaking, a voice sneaks into the spaces between my words. Will this mean anything? Will I go too far and offend the teacher? Do they think I'm crazy? I just make sure the voice doing the talking is louder than the voice in my head.

After first period, a girl told me that she had tried to commit suicide a year ago. She was in the back row, and I couldn't see the full emotion in her eyes until she talked to me afterwards.

There were two boys sitting on the front row. When I talked about my Expanded Self series and showed them the portrait of Richard, telling them that at one point he used to burn himself, I noticed one of the boys looked at the other one and pointed to himself. I don't know if this could have been directly related to what I was saying or possibly mean something else, but they weren't having any side conversation, so it's hard to believe it's anything but the obvious.

The teacher told me that a few years ago one of her students had committed suicide. He acted normally, even bubbly, that day at school. One of the saddest memories she had is that when she announced to the class the next day that this boy had died, only one person in the class knew who he was.

In last class of the day, the sister of this boy listened to my speech.

As I'm speaking, I don't know any of this about the kids. I still feel like I'm the only one who's ever gone through this and maybe this will seem a bit crazy to them. It shocks me to the point of awe to know how much pain these kids have experienced, but that at the same time we're connecting through our mutual effort to not give up.

When I decided I wanted to start speaking in high schools, I had no idea how I would do it. Each time is a little different and each time I figure out more that I can do. I don't know how this will continue to affect people or myself. This is the great unknown, but I wouldn't want to do anything else.

And I figured out my next step . . .

School's Out

Alice Cooper was right.

I stopped by WSU today, seeing a few friends. There was a time that I almost left Weber for another school and never wanted to come back. Now that I have my degree, I don't want to leave!

I admit I had wondered, "Hey, now that I'm graduated, can I use any more financial aid to at least go to swimming class?" Wishful thinking. Now that I have a bachelor's degree, I no longer qualify for pell grants.

School really is out forever.

With my BFA completed, being in college is like returning to high school post-graduation. You get the feeling "I'm not supposed to be here anymore . . ." All of this is good, because knowing myself, if I could take any more classes, I would. But it wouldn't be very meaningful as I already earned what I came for. And I pushed myself hard during Fall 2015 for a reason. And now that I've graduated, it's begun . . .

There is one thing standing between me and publishing my book: my platform. More people need to know about my message first. (Saying, "You could publish right now and see what happens," is like saying, "You could marry right now and see what happens. Sure the guy has no teeth, but let's wait and see what develops . . .")

So today I made a big leap forward. I spoke about my book and my relating artwork to a local high school. It was an alternative school, so many of the students are familiar with hardship. One boy even opened  up to me about his life. The experience was so fulfilling and exciting!

How ironic that now that school is out forever, I'm back in a classroom???

I am going to try doing this once a week to test what's working and what's not. Then I can either continue speaking or find another approach. I still have many things to do before the book gets into people's hands, but I can tell you, it's just a matter of time.