My-ugly-organs - Hand Me My Shovel, I'm Going In!

“It’s Never Peaceful”

8x10 inches

Gold acrylic, crystallized blood, wet blood

“It’s okay to not be okay”

Unless it impacts your work performance…

Or your grades

Or how you act

Or if it causes you to say no

Or if you’re harder to be around

Or if you need time alone

Or if you talk about it

Or show symptoms

“It’s okay to not be okay”

Unless you have trauma

Unless you have one of those “scary” mental illnesses

Unless it inconveniences me

Unless you’re undiagnosed

Unless you cry or scream or make a scene

Unless you don’t keep that shit to yourself

Unless you make me uncomfortable

Unless I can’t infantilize or fetishize you

Unless you have hallucinations

Unless you have psychosis

Unless you get angry

Unless I think you’re cringe

Unless you can’t preform hygiene tasks

Unless you’re disabled, or trans, or gay, or not white, or fat, or AFAB, or intersex, or a man… so I guess anyone

“It’s okay to not be okay”

As long as nobody ever finds out.

Our society has a severe issue with performative activism, and mental health is a huge example of this. Every time someone considers reaching out, they run through this list mentally. This is why true activists and resources need to be loudly supportive of all the things on this list. Take the subtext out of your support.

Nata Sin

Menotaxis, 2022

Oil on canvas

don't give up

Pen and marker on construction paper.

Prints available here

Stages of Decomposition, Embroidery by calicoranger

zgniłe w środku

I’ve had a rough day today. Pretty much everything that could go wrong has. I’m both severely depressed and manic and it’s fluctuating rapidly. People are getting fed up with me and I am trying so fucking hard to be positive and put back positive energy into the world. I know you can’t please everyone but I still want to so badly and I don’t know how to turn it off. I am at the end of my fucking rope. Everyone I know keeps trying to hospitalize me. Not sure exactly what they think that will solve. Like they’d keep me from killing myself but then what??? Change my meds? What has that ever helped? Current events are eviscerating me. My classes just pile up the work and like some mindless good little cog in the machine I do it all and like beg for approval? From people I barely respect too. It makes me sick the whole thing. Everything. How is anyone supposed to thrive under these conditions? Especially as a severely mentally Ill person? And I know I have privileges in some ways that people dream of and work their whole lives to have and what do I do with them? Nothing. Complain. Write vent posts on a stupid fucking blog that no one even reads.

I don’t believe in God, haven’t since I was like 12, but there is a part of me that wishes he/she/they is real so I could hold them accountable for all the suffering they have either directly caused or let happen. Like there could finally be someone to blame and shake by the shoulders and scream every grievance I have. But I don’t believe that. I don’t think I ever will. If God has a body it is a bolt of lightning that strikes me down for being the sinner that I always thought I was in one fell swoop, instantly fried. No pain, just punishment. Divine judgement? Wrath? I wouldn’t care. I’d just be at peace. Then things would at least make sense!

I hope there’s no such thing as heaven or hell or whatever the fuck Jews believe the world will be like when the messiah comes. I hope there is no divine resurrection of my soul. I pray for quiet and for nothingness. If God were to choose to answer just one prayer I’ve ever uttered it would be for me to experience silence. But the universe is big and empty and silent itself I am a speck of dust. Maybe there is comfort in there somewhere, but I don’t feel it. I’ve never felt it.

Sorry if this made no sense but I’m manic again and this is the most I’ve written in days. I hope that some day soon something good happens like I fall in love or complete a creative project I’ve been working on for ages, but for now I can barely get the fuck out of my bed. Somewhere deep inside of me is a meadow full of flowers. I hope I find it soon. I am getting lost among everything else.

Franz Kafka, from Letters to Felice

Decided to paint outside in a storm to see what would happen.