Category: Creativity

  • “INSIDE VOICE” a New Series of Works

    “INSIDE VOICE” a New Series of Works

    Hello again, and welcome to the big show! I have begun what will become a Major Series of New Works entitled , “INSIDE VOICE” a series of works that speak to my inner battle with Bipolar Disorder’s lows and maniac highs, my way to shout out how the battle rages on inside even when silence prevails outside.

    Many people who meet me may be uncomfortable being near a person diagnosed with mental illness, such as Bipolar Disorder. However, they are often surprised at how “normal” I seem. It has been my experience both with my current diagnosis, and with my original diagnosis of Chronic Depression, that friends and family are amazed that I don’t run around slathering at the mouth, or beating my head against the wall. They often try denial on, “No…not you…” or, ” You seem so happy, normal, well adjusted, calm, smart …”

    Dysfunction Junction
    Dysfunction Junction ©Susan T. Martin, 2015 Best of the Best Juried Show entry, Sold.

    Some have even gone so far as to comment on my family tree, as in, ” Well your Grandpa was a little odd.” Or the opposite, “Nothing like this has ever been on my side of the family…” In my family, on my Mom’s side, my Grandpa and his Brothers had come to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania from Woodbury, Tennessee because there were good jobs to be had at the State Hospital, which was what insane asylums were called in the early 20th Century in the U.S. The treatment of mental illness was a whole different ballgame back then, my relatives saw many terrible and terrifying things, indeed.

    Their positions within these huge hospitals required them to live on the Hospital Grounds in Dormitories, where they could hear the “lunatics” screaming and carrying on all day and night. It’s no wonder they were aghast at the idea that their kin were somehow linked  to those poor souls in the “Looney Bin”. I am so glad to live in this century, and I am very grateful to all the poor souls who were the subject of many ghastly experiments and treatments, who helped behavioral science and the Mental Health Community to become what it is today. As a “50 Something” woman who was not properly diagnosed till the age of 32, my life now is a dream compared to the suicide attempts, the self medicating, the self debasing promiscuity, the manic spending, the jail time, the fate-tempting, death-defying thrill-seeking, mayhem-causing pain I lived thru before. The sheer energy it would take to put up a happy, smiling front…man, I needed a eight ball just to keep it up for a weekend.

    But it would all unravel in the end. I was not OK. I was really, really not OK. Inside my head I was screaming, and my thoughts were rolling at warp speed. I was that cat on the electric floor in that Steven King movie, running up the walls. I would try to hold down a job, and this is after a year of sobriety, after a few hours I would go to the loo and hide, shaking like a leaf. After about a year and a half clean and sober, I got my hands on my first credit card and inheritance at the same time and bought 5 acres in the wilderness, had it cleared and levelled, had a well dug, fenced it and then went to the mall and purchased a bunch of tanzanite and diamond jewelry, winding up spending  over 20 grand in 2 weeks(and ultimately filing a chapter 13 bankruptcy).

    cropped-1003-2.jpg
    Mania Illuminata, sold

    Interspersed between those bouts of mania, where I seemed so “normal”, I would cry. And cry. And Finally I just couldn’t take the pain anymore, so a dear friend said I should go to a local Mental Health Facility, called New Horizons. I was given this ancient psychiatrist who looked wizened, emaciated and nearly blind. But, bless her heart, she had me pegged. With her help, with my determination to stick with my med trials, with a great therapist and social worker, I have been able to stay alive there past 23 years, now clean and sober for 21 of them, come September.

    .  So, anyway…(whew, that was quite a tirade!)…I am painting this series to let you look inside a person with this illness, look into this inner world and I promise I will use my “INSIDE VOICE”.

    .                                              Susan T. Martin, August 1, 2020

    INSIDE VOICE #1
    “INSIDE VOICE #1″©Susan T. Martin/12″x12″Acrylic on Canvas
  • LANDFALL(In the Garden of my Father)

    LANDFALL(In the Garden of my Father)

    .  You know I like to keep working on my paintings, don’t you? I believe it comes from not having enough money for canvases , as well as not sketching out my paintings first, as well as total and complete impatience to put my idea down fast, for gratification. So I thought I would make a brief compilation to see what this work has gone thru on it’s journey to fruition… I will make a better video tomorrow… No sleep for me (again) last night…Can you say, “MANIA!!!!” It may Hurt later, but right now it’s SO EXCITING!! PAINT PAINT PAINT!!!

  • Fighting

    Fighting

    Cats outside, raising a ruckus, peeing on everything

    .   I wash it off.

    .   Dog inside, rolling with glee, woops! she takes a pee

    .   I clean it up.

    .   I’m so tired, clumsy and hungry, spilling my juice, ants come

    .   I kill them all.

    .   Round we go, round and round, cleaning and messing

    .   I am fighting.

    .   Was I born for this kneeling ?

    .   Cleaning up piss?

    .   Break my back, have an attack? For a hovel?

    .    A place like this.

    .   A place my very Own.

    .   Who are you, growing up rich?

    .    Drunken and spoiled

    .    Face down in a ditch.

    .    “Clean it up Joe, find you a Doe!”

    .      You kissed her, now Dad says

    .     “Get hitched.”

    .      You will hate her, yet deny it,

    .      Wishing you did not choose it

    .      Now you beat, berate, and tie her

    .    ( You can’t keep your wick lit.)

    .    It was too hard to comprehend,

    .    This awful struggle to the end.

    .    You see, the fight’s the thing,

    .   This is the madness our life brings

    .   It’s not the lovely picnic resting,

    .   But the jabbing and the testing

    .    The Cat’s reign ends in terror,

    .   When the rat’s the standard bearer,

    .    When the pigeon trumpets loudly

    .    ” Too much foreplay, much too rowdy”

    .      Lay down your arms,

    .     Your legs, and tiny minds

    .      Pursue peace, seek you’ll find

    .      Even in these troubled times.

    .      I am sad and very weary,

    .      Throw in the towel,

    .     Wipe your eyes, Deary

    .     The fight now over, lost and gone

    ,     Send the soldiers to their homes.

    .    Bruised and battered , torn and crusty,

    .    Their uniform so dank and dusty

    .   Where’s your fight now, wheres your medal?

    .    All alone upon the Pedestal.

    .    No more gallant hero jesting

    .   No more contact sport or testing,

    .   The battles over and we won.

    .   The fighting is now dead and done.

     

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