abstract, abstractexpressiomism, acrylics, anxiety, art, art therapy, artist, bipolar, chronic illness, colorful, contemporary art, depression, fibromyalgia, fine art, health, mental illness, modern art, painting, spinal stenosis, traditional art

Mental health and an abstract painting

 I found out this morning that because of insurance issues I can’t see my psychiatrist of 15 years anymore. The same is true for my therapist. They have covered these things for all this time. 

All of the mental health help I was considered out of network. They changed the the policy to be that out of network mental health coverage is no longer covered at all. Each of the various appointments are at least $400.

Obviously that’s not an option. I don’t know what to do. I guess I’ll ask my Dr and therapist for recommendations of Drs that are in network.

I can’t believe it. Anyone that who is treated for mental illness will understand why I am so upset.

I am overwhelmed. I say this as the caption of this painting because I was pretty happy when I was painting. It was art therapy . I get help for my bipolar and my fibromyalgia and spinal stenosis from that.

Now that’s all the therapy I have.

Acrylics on canvas. 16″x20″

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anxiety, bipolar, comics, depression, diabetes

Social anxiety and more

It’s time for a chatty blog about my life and thoughts. This sounds funny but I’m trying to reach myself to type with both of my thumbs. if I was 30 years younger I would be very good at it!  

I’m having a lot of trouble with my health insurance. They say my psychiatrist is out of network, though they,’ve counted her as in network for over a decade. so they are charging me full price for a whole lot of visits. They say I owe $3,500! The doctor is having her assistant work on it and my husband has done a lot of work on it and so have i.

I see my therapist tomorrow. Yay!

I have been in an especially large amount of pain. My medical marijuana has been extremely helpful, it always is!

These days I’ve been smoking pre rolled joints. It’s an expensive way to take my medicine. I’m taking the capsules sometimes; depending how how I feel.

I used to hate smoking, because of my mother who smoked 2-3 packs a day for 50 years. I didn’t smoke pot until I met my husband who wasn’t a stoner, (it makes laugh to think of it) but smoked a lot of weed. That was the beginning of my stoned life. It was 1994.

Losing weight is still on a plateau, but that’s ok because I’m maintaining at my best weight. My fingers got small enough for me to wear my wedding ring set. yay!

 

Depression depression depression.

Pain pain pain

Anxiety Anxiety Anxiety

 

I got new phone, thanks dad! I bought the LG 6G, unlocked. it’s_ lovely. My old one died the very same day.

I suspect I’ll be up late tonight. I wanna watch Deadpool. This afternoon I sort of watched it…I saw the very beginning and the very end. I slept through pretty much all of it. Doh! I’m glad I didn’t see it in the theater! I’m going to give it another chance tonight.

I haven’t been to the comic book store in a couple of months. I used go every Tuesday to talk to the owner who works there sometimes. We became friends because I often came into the store, buying lots and lots of comics for a couple years. He suggested so many great books for me to read and introduced me to his favorite author, who soon became my favorite, too. Scott Snyder has written books that are favorites of both of ours.

I stopped going there because once I went there when I was very depressed and was barely holding it together. A couple tears escaped and I walked out without saying goodbye. I promised myself that I wouldn’t go see him anymore. I guess I felt ashamed. I was punishing both of us because of my mental illness. He knew about it and was very understanding.

I let myself go there today, partly because I really wanted to see him and I just want to hang out in the store. All those comics, perfectly organized. It was also was because after I thought my decision to never go back was kind of over the top and silly, I guess.

Maybe it wasn’t so silly after all. Today he was glad to see me and didn’t asked where I’d been. It was thoughtful. But my social anxiety kicked in and instead of being able to see him and have a nice talk, I froze. I couldn’t say a thing. I bought something and left. I cried on the way home.

It makes me cringe. I feel like a coward ditching one of my real life friends, someone really that was so good to talk to is ironic that it’s ending because I can’t talk. I’m going to try not to go there anymore. Or should I go back and be honest? I dunno. It really made me feel shitty since I was hoping it would cheer me up.

I went to group today. It was good, which is a strange thing to say since 2 people decided they would check themselves into a mental hospital.

My diabetes still isn’t under control, which is causing me a great of stress. I’m not eating g badly. I just have trouble taking my shots, I forget and sometimes i just don’t take it. I’m not sure why.

A lot of things in my life are areas that I’m not sure about and that sucks.

Ending on a lighter note, for years u thought it would be awesome if you could go to the store and but a pack of joints. In this case the dispensary is the store but with that in mind,my fantasy came true!

Good morning!

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art, art therapy, bipolar, colorful, drawing, Outsider art

“My outsider art, my therapy”

I’m kind of excited about this drawing. I always want to make outsider art and most of the time it doesn’t feel right. I think I got what what I was looking for.

When I saw my therapist last week and she told me to get the bad feelings out. She told me yell! So I did and what i ended up shouting almost involuntarily, fuck you fuck you fuck you etc.

Recently I wrote about art therapy. This is a great example of that. This drawing is how I felt when I was yelling in my therapist’s office. Drawing this was another way of getting negative feelings out.

I drew it all in one sitting. I really didn’t want to stop the process, so I kept working on it.once I got going it was easy.

I did it with prismacolor markers. I wanted to express the insanity I felt so I didn’t use any pencil or ink outlines, just straight up color and shapes.

This sort of  artwork makes me so nervous. It’s way outside my comfort zone. but that’s a good thing for an artist.

 Since I’m not skilled at drawing and I rarely post pieces that are raw and negative I feel vulnerable. It’s totally uncensored and totally unpolished.

So, here you go!

omg

anxiety, bipolar, child abuse, depression, drugs, mania, mental illness, substance abuse

no more wire hangers 3

is anyone getting the titles of the posts in this series?

my mother knew she had mental illness issues, but she refused to see a psychiatrist or a therapist. we convinced her to go to a couple therapists to find one she felt she could talk with. she went to meet two and her excuses for not going was that she was sure one had ulterior motives and the other had an office that made her anxious.

when i had panic attacks growing up (we didn’t know that’s what they were at the time) she got angry at me. in retrospect i think it was it was because she was scared when she saw me going through that. i’ve seen her have panic attacks and oh boy have i seen her anxious.she was afraid that somewhere inside her was me. she didn’t want to  go through what i went through with my depression and mania. two psychiatrists told me, after long talks about my mother, that she was bipolar, too. i’m not surprised, but having a doctor say it shed light on things and made me feel validated

she even self medicated, like i did. she was obsessed with this shitty white wine. she drank glass after glass all evening while she watched courtroom dramas and true crime shows. after i went to university she bought a new house that she has since defaulted on. the house was a gorgeous Victorian in downtown St. Louis. it was in a neighborhood that was transitioning from a gutted ghetto into lovely restored houses. good old gentrification. her house was already transformed when she bought it.  it was gorgeous but it had three stories. she usually watched tv and drank in a family room on the second floor and also in her bedroom on the third floor. guess who had to fetch the wine?

drinking was her second drug of choice, the first  was nicotine.  by now, she will have smoked almost 60 years, two or more packs a day. she was a professional smoker. she chain smoked 24/7. she drowned her sorrows in wine, cigarettes, and taking it all out on me.

i’ve already said i’m a recovering alcoholic, i’ve been clean for 15 years. when i went home to visit (my dad lived in St. Louis and i was tied to my mother by a mental bond i had to fight to break, so i still kept coming back. she encouraged me to drink. she prepared by laying in a supply of beer, gin (she had cocktails after work, too; gin and tonics…one or two) champagne and vodka plus a few bottles of decent wine for dinners. she encouraged me to drink. pushed me to drink. i  jumped back into the hole of drunkenness to avoid having to deal with her. i can’t  put it all off on my. i was thrilled to have time away from my husband so i could drink my fill. i had to be very honest with him to keep our relationship working well and i wanted both he and I to be happy. i made the decisions to drink the alcohol she bought, but it was damned hard, too hard. i embraced it.

hangovers were hell so my mother gave me a bottle of codeine to use to take them away. i took a few in the morning. went back to sleep, woke and puked, went back to sleep and got up feeling pretty good.

we went out drinking too. she liked to show off my tattoos and piercings when we were bar hopping, hoping to look cool. at home she hated the tattoos.

Mommy Dearest.