Alone, I often fall into nothingness

#VirginiaWoolf

This week I haven’t been able to draw. It’s probably because I’ve been feeling down, as I do every month, so when I’m feeling down I try to write, as I’ve found it’s a good frame of mind to do so.

I mean, if I’m going to feel down anyway, I might as well get something out of it, right?

In my writing, I’ve been trying to describe a feeling that washes over me when I’m having a particularly low moment, as if the world slows down and every shift in the air is picked up by your skin. As if you’re on drugs and everything seems hightened and dull at the same time.

Have you ever had that feeling? When you can feel every individual muscle moving as you go up the stairs and it feels like you’re moving in slow-motion and yet the world hasn’t changed at all, it’s you who’s different somehow.

It’s a very difficult feeling to describe. I wonder if it’s the brain’s way of protecting itself against whatever dark thoughts are trying to emmerge and take shape. Maybe it has to become slippery  in order to stop those thoughts from latching onto it.

I have since then began to feel better, I guess this month’s cycle is almost over, but as I was looking for better ways to describe this mood I happened upon this quote by Virginia Woolf:

Alone, I often fall down into nothingness. I must push my foot stealthily lest I should fall off the edge of the world into nothingness. I have to bang my head against some hard door to call myself back to the body.

Virginia Woolf, The Waves

This. This is what it is.

I’ve been struggling with describing this, and Virginia Woolf had it all along. This past week I’ve been wondering if it was something unique to myself. I’ve got mixed feelings about discovering that it isn’t. Relieved because I’m not different and frustrated because I’m not.

Here’s a sketch (sorry about the quality, I don’t own a scanner).

IMG_20180523_115109_166

The Sardine

I’m stepping through the door

#DavidBowie

Throughout my life I’ve had dozens of diaries.

It was a popular gift to give to a young girl, so every Christmas I’d get a shiny new notebook and was told to write about my day-to-day there every evening. On the first of January I’d be so excited about starting my new diary that I wouldn’t even wait for the evening!

I’d open it up, flick through it’s blank pages, grab my favourite pen and start writing about anything that popped into my head.

Unfortunately, as with anything, I’d grow tired of having to write in my diary every day, especially when I had a lot of homework to do and didn’t have the time or the energy to write anything.

None of my diaries lasted longer than a month.

However, I’ve recently started writing my thoughts down. I’m not calling it a diary. There are no dates or templates, it’s just a small A6 notebook where I’ve allowed myself to write about anything.

Sometimes I write small stories, sometimes lists, other times I write about random thoughts that have popped into my head. And I’ve come to realise that writing about my problems helps me to get over them.

When you write about something that’s worrying or bothering you it can be very therapeutic. For one thing, you let all your frustrations out onto paper, and that’s always a weight off your chest. Then, you analyse it in a calmer state of mind.

I find that after writing about whatever is upsetting me I tend to ask myself questions about the problem. By asking myself those questions, I resolve my problem or am able to find a better way to think about it.

Here are some examples of questions I ask myself:

  1. Why am I feeling the way I am?
  2. Is it really worth it spending time agonizing about this?
  3. Is there anything I can do to solve this?

Writing in about my problems is what I imagine talking to a therapist must feel like.

My notebook is my personal therapist. So is this blog in a way. They’ve helped me overcome a lot.

What do you do when you have a problem?

Here’s a sketch.

Thinking

The Sardine