Bad. in The Devil Beneath My Feet

Today is bad. Bad bad bad. It’s a real bad day.

I’m so tired. I’m so fucking tired.

I have to go to my dad’s shortly for his birthday. I don’t know how I’m gonna do this.

Yesterday really fucked me up bad and I’m so glad I had today off work because I genuinely, truly don’t know if I could’ve made it through the day there and that is FUCKING SCARY because I’ve never had that worry before. I can take hate and ire any day of the week but my god compliments really fucking give me the squirms and splits.

I’ve been white knuckling my way through for 9 hours so far. Split at least once today. I took a shower. I did laundry. I voted.

I don’t know how much longer I can keep this together like this. The more I try and pull it together the more it rips. I feel like I’m in the middle of a panic attack that started yesterday.

Finally found something that provides the slightest little dying spark of joy and now it’s all going to shit and all the artists I enjoy the most are abandoning ship to go elsewhere and it’s forcing me to think about how much I fucking miss making art.

I fucking miss it so much. I hate myself for letting that go, the most precious thing to me. My fucking mental existence has been so bad for so long that I told myself I didn’t care but I do, I did. But art, along with everything fucking else started to feel like a chore, and now I don’t feel like I even deserve it, my skill has died and it’s reset me back to the start, my figure drawing is FUCKED my proportions are FUCKED, POV is FUCKED my shading is FUCKED everything is just fucked all the way back and I worked SO HARD for that fucking skill just to fucking lose it all.

Taking care of oneself isn’t exactly in the fuckin daily itinerary when you’re sick in the head so I let my psoriasis go for so long without medication that now my HANDS ARE FUCKED TOO being wracked with arthritis so even if I do force myself to shit something out on paper it doesn’t come out anything like how I want it to which makes me feel like a big ol duffel bag of shit and failure and I can’t even just KEEP AT IT anymore because after a while my right hand turns to fucking stone, SO INSTEAD OF SEEING PROGRESS WITH PRACTICE IM SEEING DECLINE!

I think I have to accept that I’ll never regain it and that thought alone has had me heaving sobs for hours today.

I have to pull it together a little longer today. I have to go get ready to go to my dad’s. I really am worried about this, I don’t know how I’m gonna do this. They don’t know how bad it is, I don’t think they ever knew it was bad to begin with. If I crack under it all while I’m there that’s gonna be it.

I need to calm the fuck down. Few more hours. I can do a few more hours.