too busy to cry

and early bird pricing for a collage class in March!

Hello! I am moving my whole studio this week, again, still in Portland, but please enjoy this reprint of something from the last time I moved, 18 months ago.

BONUS: registration is open for the collage workshop “Is This Art?” has quietly opened. Online, starting 3/3, all sessions recorded.

I’ll be telling you more about it soon but if you want to check it out, early bird pricing is good through this Friday.

rethinking my own anti-depression plan

Doris creator Cindy Crabb once wrote an anti-depression guide. I remember the hour by hour diary comic documenting a daily plan to mitigate the symptoms of depression. It started with coffee. Wake up, drink coffee. Meet friends, walk, and drink more coffee. It was a plan to keep moving, stay connected and stay motivated.

A few years before I read this zine, I was 19 and living in Boston. Depression sank into my skin on the long mornings I lingered in bed, not wanting to face the thick gray winter. Staying busy was the first step I found to prevent the depression from settling in. If I was moving, it could not catch me. The doubts about my partner, my job and my plans could sabotage my day.

Staying busy was the first step I found to prevent the depression from settling in. If I was moving, it could not catch me.

A few years later, I moved to New Orleans.  I worked one day a week. The rest of my days were filled with volunteering at the community bike shop, meandering bike rides and visiting friends in coffee shops. I loved late nights, when the air was still warm and thick but quiet. I like working late, the quiet that makes space for  clarity.  I was realizing that a busy day was not a sustainable mental health choice; I needed a schedule. I needed regular sleep.

The late nights often bled into groggy mornings. I had to choose: commit to the late night or the early morning.  Summer in New Orleans starts when it is 90 by 10 am and so after a few years of being a night owl, I became a person who woke at 7¹   

I also was introduced to cold brew coffee.  Friends kept jars of the thick liquid in their fridges. The coffee shop that was best for writing also gave one free refill, leaving me to vibrate lightly as if I might fly. Only one friend pointed out caffeine adverse effects on depression. The rest of us alternated coffee and whisky and got through the day.

Only one friend pointed out caffeine adverse effects on depression. The rest of us alternated coffee and whisky and got through the day.

Around this time I also went to the doctor for chest pain.  I didn't have insurance in this pre-obamacare time. If a punk needed non-emergency care, we called the  Canadian anarchist doctor who checked us out and sent us for tests we needed. I had called him because I had sprained my finger and feared it was broken.  I told him about the chest pain.   It was the first time it was identified as anxiety.  I didn't know what a panic attack was though I could now name the times I experienced one.²Later, in my 30's, I bargained with myself, agreeing to eat one cup of leafy greens for every cup of coffee. By my last semester in college, I would switch to decaf when I felt anxious. I recognized that I was staying busy to stave off sadness but had not questioned the sustainability of my plan. 

I was busy for other reasons too. I've always worked jobs to support my art-making. Sometimes my work and art lives mingle but I often have to do my work in addition to having a job.  I chose service jobs for flexibility and decent pay but the uncertainty of them led me to collect many part time gigs, so I could make rent in a pinch. 

I managed anxiety with breathing and walks and decaf and nerve tonic from an herbalist friend. Depression was held at bay with plans: Too busy to be depressed! Let’s write a new zine!   

It seemed like a reasonable and thoughtful approach–too much down time meant too much worry. I never considered what I was avoiding.

It takes practice to stop outrunning the feelings, and it takes practice to find and stick to your limitations--the limitations of time, money,& energy.

Slowly I was also developing  tools to cope. I started taking long bike rides and later, long car rides alone.  I could be moving without doing anything. It was a trick--I wouldn't feel the gravitational pull of depression but my over stimulated brain had space to think.  I could drive for hours and hours without any music. I've only just realized that I was doing exactly what I needed, what I wouldn't allow myself to do any other way. I had been in therapy and I wrote but I rarely had long stretches of time without plans. Driving around gave me the time.

I'm still busy. I plan vacations but like Paulie says, a vacation for the self employed means more work before and after. I schedule a day off every week. Once or twice I stopped work for the weekend and felt at peace, instead of scrambling to finish one more thing, I was able to let go of the unfinished work. I rested. It takes practice to stop outrunning the feelings, and it takes practice to find and stick to your limitations--the limitations of time, money,& energy. Post-concussion and in my 40's, I often feel like I have less of all of those things.

Yes, write another zine but maybe have a glass of water too.

Of course, some days I still drink an icy sweet coffee and see what happens but more often those are my days off. I run errands but detour to the nearest butte to get sun on my face and a little perspective. I've been walking every morning as soon as I get up, and sometimes at night. I ride my bike instead of driving so I can meander. And the biggest difference--sometimes I feel sad. It isn't an emergency or break down; it comes and it is ok.  Sometimes I feel angry. But now my friends and I talk about meeting up to rage and cry and then maybe make stuff. I don't feel like I need to fix it, just letting the feelings come.³I am no longer trying to outrun depression, but feeling the full range of feelings.

I am no longer trying to outrun depression, but feeling the full range of feelings.

I still have a million ideas. I write them all down and periodically pare them down to a few I might want to try instead of pressuring myself into doing them all.  Routines and schedules and healthy living is annoying and predictable but also there is a deep peace I never felt before. It is fleeting but it comes, like a clear moment of yes, I'm on the right path. Yes, write another zine but maybe have a glass of water too.

1. or eight? I dunno, everything before nine am seemed absurdly early in my 20's, surrounded by bars that never closed and parties that just kept going.

2. the bumper cart derby on lundi gras while holding a stray kitten. I was the only sober person there. I didn't give up coffee or whisky entirely but cut back for a few weeks.

3. ***still in therapy, obviously.