Well, no. Not quite. But I'm getting there.
Depression is a constant in my life. When I say that, I don't mean that I'm full of doom, gloom, hellfire and despondency all the time; far from it. Actually, in truth, I spend a lot of time denying to myself and others that I have any kind of a problem. That's not really a useful strategy, but it has worked for most of my life. These days, it doesn't work so well, mainly because the illness is insistent that I admit the limitations it places on me. I'm a very slow learner. One of the things it reminds me is that I'm not Superwoman. Hell, I knew that; I don't wear my underpants outside my trousers, for a start... Sadly, however, that doesn't mean that I don't behave like Superwoman every now and again, take on too much and crash and burn. That's what happened recently, and why I've been so silent. Now, you find me starting to pick up the pieces, and make decisions.
I'm simplifying my life; I'm giving up the running of Alternativequiltlist on yahoo, and becoming an associate, rather than a full member of The Well. Going backwards to go forwards. Allowing myself some space and time to be, rather than to do. I'm not any sadder than I was, but I do hope I come out of this wiser. Why is being kind to oneself so difficult? Or even just remembering what I need, and providing it?
I'm beginning to paint again, after a period when I thought all my work was unbearably awful, textiles, paintings, the works... moving back to process when for a time, I got distracted by outcomes. The paintings are gentle, like this one, Blue Moon, a simple little square painting.