Art and Depression

                 I have shared a lot about how writing has carried me through my depression. Writing is my go-to coping strategy when I am struggling. It provides an outlet for all that gets trapped in my head. As much as writing helps me sometimes it is not enough. Other times I feel I need something different. It is not that writing is not working. It is more that I just need other outlets at times. I have discovered art as a secondary outlet when I am struggling. Usually when I lean into art, I find that painting soothes me. I enjoy paint pouring and painting on canvas with acrylic paint. 

I am not the most artistic person, but I enjoy the act of getting paint on the canvas.  When I am working with paint I feel a sense of calm. Paint pouring is especially soothing because I can watch the paint flow on the canvas. I like to mix different colors in my paint pours. There is something in the swirling colors as I move the canvas around that just feels healing. I also like the feel of the paint on my hands. I don’t know what it is about the feel of paint on my hands that is so soothing. It just relaxes me. 

I have mentioned before that I am being  treated with esketamine. During this treatment I experience a dissociation during which I “see” colors. Most often it is shades of purple emerging from a black background. I believe that the purple is an indication of healing. It is emerging from the darkness of my depression. I have created a few paint pours using shades of purple to represent what I experience during treatment. When I do this, it allows me to share my experience with others. I think combining my experience with depression and treatment with art is positive practice. It allows me to make my depression more concrete. 

Sometimes I see other colors emerge during treatment. I painted a mandala to represent these colors. Just painting what is in my head soothes me. One thing I like to do is combine my writing with painting. I have written poems to go with several of my paintings. This links two of my coping strategies, writing and art. Sometimes I put a poem on the painting. Other times I scan a painting and then print a poem on the back. When I combine my art and writing in this way, I can share the creations with others. I like to share my art and writing with people who are important on my journey.

Another way I like to incorporate art is by pouring paint on glass vases. Doing this creates beautiful pieces. Watching the paint drip down the vase is soothing. It is a feeling I need when I am struggling with my depression. It also helps when I am anxious. Pouring the paint and watching it flow also calms my anxiety. I am not sure I can explain how it happens. I just know it works. 

I found a quote by Winston Churchill, who battled depression, that I think captures how I feel. “Painting is a pastime, a therapy, and a life-saver for me.” Painting is healing for me just as writing is healing for me. I know that I can turn to writing and painting when I am struggling. I encourage others to try these activities. You don’t have to have the talent of the great artists. I surely don’t, but I enjoy creating art anyway. Find an artform that you enjoy. A trip to a craft store can provide a vast array of possibilities. If you are struggling with depression or anxiety, art might just provide a bit of relief.

 

 

 

Beach Therapy

 

                  Yesterday I spent the day at South Carlsbad State Beach where my friend, Sharon, was camping with her family. She invited me down for the day to enjoy the ocean breeze and sunshine. Looking out over the ocean I felt a sense of peace. I needed this day. My depression has been creeping back in and I have felt myself starting to spiral into the darkness. I thought of yesterday as beach therapy.

                  The beach has been a place to escape for me since my college days. I had the privilege of going to college on the Redwood Coast. It was there that I learned that the beach could calm me. Perhaps it is something in the breeze that soothes me. The waves rolling onto the sand quiet my thoughts. I can escape the running monologue in my head when I am on the beach. The beaches on the Redwood Coast had the added benefit of the redwoods towering to the East. These gentle giants protected me. Their green needles creating an image of safety in my mind as the scent of the ocean filled me. 

                  While I was at the beach yesterday, I wrote. Actually, I was surprised to realize I had written 13 and half pages. That is quite productive for a day on the beach. My writing was a mix of poetry and journaling. The poems were uplifting. I was seeing the beauty in the ocean as I watched the waves gently coming ashore.  As I journaled, I felt the poison of depression and anxiety flowing through my pen. The pages held the darkness that has been building up over the past several days. I tried to envision the words that emerged flowing out to sea with the waves. I’m not sure how successful I was, but I made the effort. That is what is important. 

                  As I walked on the rocks that covered the water’s edge, I felt the unsteadiness of the loose rocks beneath my feet. That unsteadiness holds a similarity to living with depression. With depression I am rarely sure when I will have a good day. I step into each day hoping that the darkness will fade for a while, but I know it is always lurking. When I stepped on the rocks, I didn’t know if I would lose my footing. In the same way, I take a step forward and wonder if I will find the light of healing or if depression will darken my day. The unsteadiness is draining. I am always trying to steady myself. That is depression. There is so much uncertainty. The one thing that is certain is that the darkness hurts. 

                  I picked up a few rocks and brought them home with me. Perhaps, I’ll paint them or start a rock garden. I wanted something tangible to remind me of the peace that floats in the air near the ocean. I think I need to escape to the beach more often. It definitely awakened the muse within me as I wrote several poems. I am never freer than when I am writing. Even when the painful thoughts emerge on the page, I am healing because those thoughts are leaving me. My pen ushers them out of my mind. 

                  My day on the beach was therapy for me. We need different types of therapy when we struggle with depression or other mental illnesses. Talk therapy helps, but sometimes I also need the silence of the beach. I need the ocean breeze and salty air. Both types of therapy carry me forward into the light of healing. I know I must return to the beach more often. I can fill my journal on the water’s edge, release all the thoughts and feelings that are pent up inside of me. 

                  I’ll end this post with a few Haiku poems I wrote on the beach:

 

A moment to breathe

Inhale the ocean’s clean air.

Settle into rest.

 

 

 

Waves lapping the sand.

Salty foam over my toes,

Cooling my lost soul.

 

 

 

I write on the beach.

Pen poised to capture hope

As waves crash on rocks.

 

Blogging for a Year

                 I missed it, but last week marked a year since I started this depression blog. My first post was June 16, 2023. I thought today I would glance back on the previous year and look forward to the coming year.  

                  This year has been nothing like I expected. When I started the blog, I was just coming out of a difficult period with my depression. In the months prior to starting my blog I had been through both esketamine and TMS treatment. They worked for me, and I was feeling better. In early June I transferred out of a job that was not good for my mental health. My amazing mental health care team helped me secure that transfer. It wasn’t easy but being away from that job had things looking up. I started interviewing for new positions. After a couple weeks I landed a position as a special education coordinator at a high school. I was excited about work for the first time in a long while. 

                  My blog had started off well. I had a new job. My depression and anxiety seemed under control. I was ready for a good year. Two days after being hired for the new position, I found myself in the emergency room. This emergency visit started a year I could never have expected. Within a couple weeks I was hospitalized and underwent a liver biopsy.  A week later my primary care provider said the word that would change everything. Cancer. I was diagnosed with stage 4 metastatic breast cancer. Chemotherapy would start quickly. The people that surrounded me would change my life. From my aunt to my dancing nurse to my oncologist, I was supported and cared for. My mental health team and primary care provider remained by my side, lifting me up. Somehow, I managed to keep writing this blog. I missed a few posts, but for the most part I posted twice a week. This blog gave me purpose. It provided a distraction to my treatment and the illness that was trying to take my life. 

                  Writing emerged as my healing tool, the same way it has as I have battled depression and anxiety. Those two “buddies” made noise during this past year. They joined cancer in trying to take me down. I fought. Some days were bad. Other days were really bad. Still, I kept writing. Taking pen to paper saved me. It gave my thoughts somewhere to go. I filled a few journals in addition to the posts I was writing. This blog and my journal were lifelines for me. 

                  As for the blog, my audience has varied. Some posts garner a lot of readers. Others only manage to attract few. The two most read posts were “A Safe Place for Healing” and “A Funeral for My Hair”.  The post “Cancer Hasn’t Won” had a lot of readers, too. As did the posts on esketamine treatment and TMS (transcranial magnetic stimulation), which were a series written from my psychiatric nurse practitioner’s perspective with follow-ups from my perspective as a patient. 

I continue to share my thoughts on depression and living with mental illness. I haven’t had the consistent readership that I was hoping for, but I’m not giving up. If you are reading this, I ask that you share the blog with someone or go back and read some of my older posts that you might have missed. I truly believe that we need to openly discuss depression and other mental illnesses. We need to bring acceptance and understanding to these illnesses. I have lived most of my life with depression and anxiety. Unfortunately, a large portion of that time, support was minimal if it was there at all. Times are changing. Mental illness is more accepted and understood now. Unfortunately, we are not where we need to be. We need to bring more light into the discussion. It is my hope that this blog be a part of that light. I want to bring hope and understanding. If my experience can bring help to others than it has served a purpose. I will continue to post twice a week. Writing is a larger part of my life now that I am unable to work. I hope to build this blog and in doing so help others. It helps me to write, and I hope that others are helped by my words. When I started this blog a year ago, I didn’t know how much it would help me. This blog has been a lifeline for me. I hope you will continue to read it and share it with others. 

Whispers Above the Water

             Today’s post is a poem I wrote this weekend.  Writing in general, and poetry in particular, has always been healing for me.  It has been one of my coping strategies throughout my battle with depression.  Now, I am writing to deal with both the depression and the cancer.  Writing allows me to get the thoughts out of my head and onto paper.  This makes them concrete, which allows me to process them in a more productive manner.  

            I share this poem today to express what I am going through.  I hope that others find strength in my words.  If you would like to read more of my poetry, I have published four books of poetry and a memoir.  Check them out at your local bookstore or Amazon.  Just search for my name. There are also links on my website www.ginacapobianco.com.  

            One of my friends mentioned that maybe there is a book waiting to be written in the journey I am now on.   Who knows? Maybe I will find my way to write that book.  

 

 

Whispers Above the Water

 

The ebb and flow of emotions.

The ripples become waves at times.

I try to hang on,

Ride each wave out,

But the emotions are powerful.

Their intensity overwhelms me.

I consider letting go,

Allowing the waves to drown me.

Something within me whispers.

I hear a faint voice telling me to grab hold.

The voice whispers that

It is not my time.

I reach through the waves, 

Grab on to hope.

The voice grows stronger.

I hear it emanating from within me.

The voice echoes around me,

“Don’t give up!”

I am buoyed by the words.

Now, my head above the waves,

Battle gear in place,

I am now ready to fight.

 

Hair Loss

            As I mentioned in my last post, I have cancer.  It has been a difficult time.  I have had trouble writing.  Usually writing is healing for me.  I have found it hard to sit down and write.  Cancer and the treatment are taking a lot out of me.  However, I am determined to write because I know it provides me with an avenue to release what I am thinking.  

            In the past couple of days, I’ve written two poems.  I am going to share one with you today.  First, let me provide a little background.  I knew I was going to lose my hair.  To maintain some sense of control, I had my hair cut short.  I thought I’d get ahead of the hair loss.  I thought it would take some time before I my hair started falling out on its own.  Unfortunately, I was wrong. Hair is already coming out.  It has hit me hard.  Somehow, the hair loss makes the cancer more real.  I don’t know how to explain it.  So, I wrote about it.  

            Here is the poem:

 

Hair Loss

 

I have always hated my hair.

Tangled and frizzed,

Matted into hidden knots.

Curls others envied,

I looked upon as difficult to manage.

Now my brown locks are gone. 

My hair is falling out.

No more curls.

A glance in the mirror,

I appear different. 

My face no longer hidden by long curls.

I have lost a part of my identity.

I knew it would happen.

A side effect of the medication I need to live.

I understand,

The loss means the medication is at work,

But it reminds me how real this disease truly is. 

Hair loss should not bring such tears.

Still the tears flow.

My mind questions what is happening within my body.

On the outside hair falls out.

Inside medication and cells are at war.

A battle that will determine if I live or die.

My tears flow as my hair falls out.

Reminding me that a killer disease dwells within me.  

The hair is symbolic, but my tears are real.

Cancer has grabbed hold of me and

My hair loss will not allow me to forget. 

A Shift in My Journey

           It has been over a week since I posted.  It’s not that I haven’t wanted to post.  I just haven’t been able to write. I need to be up front about what it is going on.  I hope all of you reading this will understand.  I am very open about my mental health.  It is only fair that I be open about my physical health as well.  Recently, I was diagnosed with stage 4 metastatic breast cancer.  This diagnosis has hit me hard.  I thought I had been on top of breast screenings.  In March my mammogram was normal.  How do I even have breast cancer now?  Yesterday the doctor explained that my cancer is fast-growing.  It is in my liver, too.  I just had scans done to see if it is anywhere else.  I’m waiting for the results.  The waiting has been difficult.  I fear the cancer is spreading as I wait for treatment to start. 

            Monday, August 14^th, will be my first chemotherapy treatment.  I’m scared.  I’m worried I don’t have the strength to fight this battle.  My depression was just getting better.  I had a new job to look forward to.  This blog was doing well. I was getting more involved with NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness).  Then in an instant my primary care provider said one word that brought that all crashing down. CANCER.  I’m grateful she is the one who told me.   She was gentle and understanding.  Hearing it from her rather than some other doctor made it easier.  But that word is seared into my mind.  I have cancer.

            One of the things I’ve been struggling with is the fact that I’ve battled depression my whole life.  Isn’t that enough?  Why cancer on top of depression? I question whether I have the strength to fight both simultaneously.  My psych team has been great. All three of them are supporting me and I know they will help me deal with the depression.  

            There are so many unknowns.  I have so many questions.  My journey has taken a new twist.  It is a serious twist into the unknown.  One that I will have to learn to navigate whether I like it or not.  It won’t be easy.  There will be rough days ahead.  I’m in pain and often don’t feel well.  That is to be expected.  

            I want to keep this blog going.  Writing has always been healing for me.  Maybe chronicling my journey and writing about different aspects of depression will be healing for me.  I have plans to ask some people for guest posts to help me keep the blog updated.  Unfortunately, I can’t promise I’ll write to two posts a week.  Please keep reading.  I promise to do my best to get posts written.  If you have ideas for future posts, write them in the comments. 

            Obviously, I don’t know what the future holds.  I remain committed to mental health awareness, especially as it relates to depression.  I won’t give up and I ask that you don’t give up on me.