Another piece completed in a day. This picture originally dates back to late December 2024, it was my final drawing of the year.
A little backstory:
Dad's health was deteriorating. He'd been rushed to hospital 3 times within the space of 2 months. One morning I came downstairs to find him in his bed - pints of blood everywhere. Full of clots and it smelled liked death.
There was ongoing fatigue from work. I put everything I can into being a support worker. You need healthy boundaries, grounding and protection when you're an empath, and opening up clairvoyantly. Something I'm still trying to work on, along with juggling what Neurodivergence throws into the mix.
The rota at work had been heavy going for months. In a state of giving, but running on fumes. Compassion fatigue was setting in. I masked through it all nonetheless - masking is what makes Neurodivergent people "high functioning".
There was the continued exhaustion and stress of waiting 5 months for the van to sell. 6 months later whilst I finished this piece, the van still hasn't sold. I look forward to closing that chapter, as it formed part of a particularly intense and short lived relationship that took me years to get over. Then there's the limbo of living at home and wanting to move on with the next chapter.
Chronic loneliness was particularly bad at the end of December. Plus I'd just come out the other side of a brief, and intense love triangle with a deeply troubled person. Their presence overshadowed the 2 spiritual places I attended for months. This all came at a less than opportune time. Thankfully they've now moved far away - which is a relief.
I distinctly recall spending Christmas Day in the hospital visiting my dad. A few days later we rushed in as he was at deaths door. Somehow he bounced back for 24 hours before passing. That was a heavy night to top a heavy few months - watching dad aspirate in bed and looking like he was about to go at any moment. Having worked as a carer for the elderly; I knew the significance of that moment.
Me, my mum and several mediums sent dad a lot of healing. And there was an hour or so where he was lucid enough to talk a few sentences. I'd left before then, but we shared a look, and he gave me a smile which meant the world to me. That image of him smiling will stay with me forever, as my dad was of an era and upbringing where displaying of emotions was rather constipated.
The final straw that brought this piece to fruition was throwing my back out for the second time at the gym during a PT session. Twice in 10 sessions. I'd got the lessons as I was joining the gym as a complete novice. Time and again he pushed me too hard too quickly. Upping weights in exercises which I was a novice in. For the second time, during the last reps, my core didn't fully engage as I was exhausted and worried/overthinking increasingly poor technique as fatigue built. This second time was doing barbell squats. My gut already predicted what was going to happen. So I asked him how to safely drop the bar if needed. He showed how to let the bar roll off my shoulders and take a step forward, allowing it to crash onto the safety rails. Alas, on my last rep of the final set, I simply couldn't stand. I also couldn't roll the barbell off my back and take a step forwards. And so I collapsed onto my knees, and the bar hit the safety rack. Needless to say my back said "no."
So here we have the inspiration for this piece. Central to the piece, and the body is the spine, with the head contorted 180 degrees. The spine is a pillar of strength and support that's being assaulted. Perhaps this is an ode to the book "The Body Keeps the Score."
The eyes and monsterous faces within the spine hold the memories of trauma, these eyes cannot close, and will not rest. They're constantly aware, and hypervigilant - the traumatised body. For years I lived with 24/7 aches and pains born of anxiety. I knew no rest. Whilst I got through the other side of chronic pain; I still encounter periods when things flare up. The past few years have been particularly emotionally taxing. But living with parents who talked at me, rather than feeling a part of a conversation - and being the people pleaser to others; finding avenues to say how I felt were lacking. Hence why art has been prolific last year and now into 2025.
The barb wire and TNT are depictions of inner tension. 20+ years with anxiety and depression constantly have me feeling like I'm a moment from detonation. Growing up in a household where speaking my mind was met with "there's no reason to get angry/shout" when I was being calm added shame to the notion of self expression. The screwdriver implies repair - but it's not healing; it's damage disguised as care. Several times a year there'd be parental assaults on my character. Towards the end of the year being told I didn't even love my dad by my mum. Then being told multiple times I didn't even love her. Attacks upon my character, making me question and doubt who I was, what I was giving, or able to give any more.
The skull at the top of the piece - the eyes staring into "the void". I use night sky in most of my pieces. The heavens, All That Is - the universe. That which we are all part of - that oneness that connects us all. And yet, the way I use the night sky is to also depict something else - "The Black". That void of depression, powerlessness and inability to truly express myself, as doing so was so often met with gaslighting and shame tactics. The neck is the branch of a rose. The instinct for love, connection, beauty, and sensitivity has remained rooted even as the conscious self has been assaulted by exhaustion and survival. So many times when I tried to open myself, I was cut. But I grew anyway.
The skull has a halo of golden barb wire around it. Martyred by endurance of prolonged mental illness, exhaustion and waywardness. There is a plea for mercy within this piece - and yet there is no peace to be found. Even the light from the candle is "The Black". I remember those dark winter days when this drawing was penned; I was at a considerable low ebb.
The blue eyes are open - an indication of the spiritual awakening and the work being done to open up to spirit and heal my chakras. The spine remains standing, and the figure has not fallen. Even under the outright assault; this remains. This is not a depiction of a person. These are the foundations under siege from physical strain, exhaustion, emotional neglect, spiritual fatigue, loneliness and systemic pressure.
This drawing is here to interrupt. To show what it took to keep standing. Days bled into weeks, months and years living in a body that felt like a haunted house. Prolonged mental health struggles have you feeling like you're living in a fog. Hence the rays of light are grey.
The sense of safety has long since gone, but you can keep going; even living in constant fear and running on fumes. The body is being attacked by various skulls; a symbol of how agonising the aches and pains born of trauma can be. Some lasted hours, days, weeks. A few even lasted over a year.
However - I say this now as a person who desperately saught a "cure" for my struggles. If there is a genuine belief that things will get better - your beliefs create your reality.
Manifesting slowly but surely into the much improved present I now inhabit. Exhaustion remains for a myriad of new reasons, for even joy comes at a cost. In manifesting your thoughts, be wise to choose your thoughts carefully where possible; or you may end up like me - squandering years living in a self-perpetuating cycle of "The Black."
Ed
A little backstory:
Dad's health was deteriorating. He'd been rushed to hospital 3 times within the space of 2 months. One morning I came downstairs to find him in his bed - pints of blood everywhere. Full of clots and it smelled liked death.
There was ongoing fatigue from work. I put everything I can into being a support worker. You need healthy boundaries, grounding and protection when you're an empath, and opening up clairvoyantly. Something I'm still trying to work on, along with juggling what Neurodivergence throws into the mix.
The rota at work had been heavy going for months. In a state of giving, but running on fumes. Compassion fatigue was setting in. I masked through it all nonetheless - masking is what makes Neurodivergent people "high functioning".
There was the continued exhaustion and stress of waiting 5 months for the van to sell. 6 months later whilst I finished this piece, the van still hasn't sold. I look forward to closing that chapter, as it formed part of a particularly intense and short lived relationship that took me years to get over. Then there's the limbo of living at home and wanting to move on with the next chapter.
Chronic loneliness was particularly bad at the end of December. Plus I'd just come out the other side of a brief, and intense love triangle with a deeply troubled person. Their presence overshadowed the 2 spiritual places I attended for months. This all came at a less than opportune time. Thankfully they've now moved far away - which is a relief.
I distinctly recall spending Christmas Day in the hospital visiting my dad. A few days later we rushed in as he was at deaths door. Somehow he bounced back for 24 hours before passing. That was a heavy night to top a heavy few months - watching dad aspirate in bed and looking like he was about to go at any moment. Having worked as a carer for the elderly; I knew the significance of that moment.
Me, my mum and several mediums sent dad a lot of healing. And there was an hour or so where he was lucid enough to talk a few sentences. I'd left before then, but we shared a look, and he gave me a smile which meant the world to me. That image of him smiling will stay with me forever, as my dad was of an era and upbringing where displaying of emotions was rather constipated.
The final straw that brought this piece to fruition was throwing my back out for the second time at the gym during a PT session. Twice in 10 sessions. I'd got the lessons as I was joining the gym as a complete novice. Time and again he pushed me too hard too quickly. Upping weights in exercises which I was a novice in. For the second time, during the last reps, my core didn't fully engage as I was exhausted and worried/overthinking increasingly poor technique as fatigue built. This second time was doing barbell squats. My gut already predicted what was going to happen. So I asked him how to safely drop the bar if needed. He showed how to let the bar roll off my shoulders and take a step forward, allowing it to crash onto the safety rails. Alas, on my last rep of the final set, I simply couldn't stand. I also couldn't roll the barbell off my back and take a step forwards. And so I collapsed onto my knees, and the bar hit the safety rack. Needless to say my back said "no."
So here we have the inspiration for this piece. Central to the piece, and the body is the spine, with the head contorted 180 degrees. The spine is a pillar of strength and support that's being assaulted. Perhaps this is an ode to the book "The Body Keeps the Score."
The eyes and monsterous faces within the spine hold the memories of trauma, these eyes cannot close, and will not rest. They're constantly aware, and hypervigilant - the traumatised body. For years I lived with 24/7 aches and pains born of anxiety. I knew no rest. Whilst I got through the other side of chronic pain; I still encounter periods when things flare up. The past few years have been particularly emotionally taxing. But living with parents who talked at me, rather than feeling a part of a conversation - and being the people pleaser to others; finding avenues to say how I felt were lacking. Hence why art has been prolific last year and now into 2025.
The barb wire and TNT are depictions of inner tension. 20+ years with anxiety and depression constantly have me feeling like I'm a moment from detonation. Growing up in a household where speaking my mind was met with "there's no reason to get angry/shout" when I was being calm added shame to the notion of self expression. The screwdriver implies repair - but it's not healing; it's damage disguised as care. Several times a year there'd be parental assaults on my character. Towards the end of the year being told I didn't even love my dad by my mum. Then being told multiple times I didn't even love her. Attacks upon my character, making me question and doubt who I was, what I was giving, or able to give any more.
The skull at the top of the piece - the eyes staring into "the void". I use night sky in most of my pieces. The heavens, All That Is - the universe. That which we are all part of - that oneness that connects us all. And yet, the way I use the night sky is to also depict something else - "The Black". That void of depression, powerlessness and inability to truly express myself, as doing so was so often met with gaslighting and shame tactics. The neck is the branch of a rose. The instinct for love, connection, beauty, and sensitivity has remained rooted even as the conscious self has been assaulted by exhaustion and survival. So many times when I tried to open myself, I was cut. But I grew anyway.
The skull has a halo of golden barb wire around it. Martyred by endurance of prolonged mental illness, exhaustion and waywardness. There is a plea for mercy within this piece - and yet there is no peace to be found. Even the light from the candle is "The Black". I remember those dark winter days when this drawing was penned; I was at a considerable low ebb.
The blue eyes are open - an indication of the spiritual awakening and the work being done to open up to spirit and heal my chakras. The spine remains standing, and the figure has not fallen. Even under the outright assault; this remains. This is not a depiction of a person. These are the foundations under siege from physical strain, exhaustion, emotional neglect, spiritual fatigue, loneliness and systemic pressure.
This drawing is here to interrupt. To show what it took to keep standing. Days bled into weeks, months and years living in a body that felt like a haunted house. Prolonged mental health struggles have you feeling like you're living in a fog. Hence the rays of light are grey.
The sense of safety has long since gone, but you can keep going; even living in constant fear and running on fumes. The body is being attacked by various skulls; a symbol of how agonising the aches and pains born of trauma can be. Some lasted hours, days, weeks. A few even lasted over a year.
However - I say this now as a person who desperately saught a "cure" for my struggles. If there is a genuine belief that things will get better - your beliefs create your reality.
Manifesting slowly but surely into the much improved present I now inhabit. Exhaustion remains for a myriad of new reasons, for even joy comes at a cost. In manifesting your thoughts, be wise to choose your thoughts carefully where possible; or you may end up like me - squandering years living in a self-perpetuating cycle of "The Black."
Ed
