Creating Beauty from the Ashes of Despair

It has always been my goal to encourage others, whether by my story or sharing someone else’s. But in order to inspire, I feel you have to be totally honest about the lows to truly appreciate the highs. In the past, I’ve talked about some of my health issues but I never really delved into my anxiety and depression.

Figuring out which came first has been a “Chicken & Egg” discussion among my mental health team for years. My psychologist told me the anxiety triggered the depression. My psychiatrist (at the time) felt my depression medications were the cause of my rampant anxiety. But one thing was agreed on: my frequent shifts between anxiety and depression mimic the symptoms of someone with bipolar disorder. So I spend most of my time strapped to a continuous emotional roller coaster. Wintertime proves to be the worst for my depression for several reasons (cold weather, increased fibromyalgia pain, lack of vitamin D  etc.) but I always hold out for the next season. Spring: the sun warming my skin, signaling for me to blossom once again. The sense of hope becomes as palpable as the amount of pollen covering your car.

Last month, signaled the beginning of a spring in the South (no snow here!). I was excited for a new chapter to come and was heaping on the goals/future plans… when I got the phones call informing me that my grandfather had passed away.

The author Lemony Snicket explains the initial feeling better than I ever could:

“…It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try and readjust the way you thought of things."― Lemony Snicket, Horseradish

The next feelings were grief, anger and finally I felt nothing (or I wanted to feel nothing). Even though I knew he had a hope and that one day I would see him again, it was all too much to bear. There were no words to describe my despair. I had always sorted out my feelings and coped with hardship by writing through it. My friends would try to check on me but I would ignore their calls. I was slowly slipping away. Mr. Madrid (my hubby) was reasonably concerned but did want sometimes is best: silently stayed by my side. But out of the fire of grief and ashes of despair, something grew. I found another outlet when there were no words … I bought a few canvases and painted this:

"Portrait of a Working Man"

Then this:

"Underwater Exploration" 

And this one too:

"From the Ashes of Despair"

Love,

Artist Madrid