The Creative Outlet

This doesn’t just relate to BDSM in my opinion… it’s a life thing, but I think it’s important in BDSM as well and people so often try to function without it.

Yesterday was a bad day. I won’t lie and say it wasn’t. I’ve been dealing with not talking to Jason when I’m used to talking to him every single day, and that meant thinking about why I wasn’t talking to him which led to a bunch of “I don’t knows” and a very worried Sir, which I felt very bad about… Right as I began spiraling Sir had to go for the evening. His girlfriend was coming over, something he should be able to fully enjoy without having to worry about his melting down submissive twenty or so miles away.

Before he disappeared Sir and I had a brief discussion about telling others what had happened to me (though that was actually one of the reasons why I posted on here). He told me I needed more support. The problem is that I don’t trust people very easily. I trust Sir, absolutely, and my older sister. I trusted Jason. That trust has very much been ripped to tatters, to the point of I don’t even know if he is still my friend or not. I didn’t want to talk to people, or lean on them too much, or be a burden to Sir.

And so, I turned to the one support system that will never, ever fail me or leave me alone.

I am lucky enough to be an artist, a sculptor by trade. I see with my hands; I have since I was very young, though I didn’t start calling myself an artist until much later in life (yes, I know because I’m SO old..but hey, it took me some time). I threw myself into the studio yesterday evening and remained there until the wee hours of the morning hand building, throwing clay onto slab roller and slowly exercising all of my demons to the point where I could breath again. I was alright. I wasn’t spiraling.

And I got a shit ton of work done in the process.

When I say I am lucky enough to be an artist, I mean it. I don’t have to struggle with what to do when words aren’t working, or I can’t talk, or I’m just too overwhelmed to the point of almost freezing. I work. I’m a firm believer in art being therapy because it is for me. It’s gotten me through the worst events of my life, when I truly had no support and was completely on my own.

I am surrounded by creative people. My parents are artists. My older sister and Sir are talented writers, and my baby sister will probably be a damn good fashion designer someday. Each of them turn to their craft when they need to expel demons, or decompress, or just can’t do anything else.

It’s harder for those who don’t identify as artists, and writers, and craftsman of any kind.

Understand, it’s not about the finished product. You don’t have to be an artist to make art. Hell, I’m not a writer and I’m writing this because it makes me feel better. It’s about what the work gives to you, how it helps when you just can’t talk to anyone. “Work” can be anything. Like cooking? There you go, it’s a creative outlet. I know many people who blast music and dance around when they’re just too overwhelmed to think. That counts too.

My older cousin is a frazzled little woman, always wound tighter than a spring. When she is pushed to her breaking point she does laundry and cleans the house. Not my thing, but if it helps it helps.

Just don’t lock it all in. Don’t sit there and wait for that spike in depression, or loneliness, or hopelessness to just pass. Get it out of you somehow. Don’t hold on to it and dwell. You’ll just sink deeper into that dark state. That is NOT a fun spiral, I assure you.

Wow… this turned into a bit more of a rant than I thought it would..whoops. I didn’t mean it to come off that way. I do hope it helps someone out there though, who tries to just keep it all in instead of letting it out.

Create, in any way you can. Express in any way you can. It will make life a hell of a lot more enjoyable

Now, if you will excuse me, it’s time to get back to my studio

-Rena

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