Dear D__________:

Depression is so debilitating. Nothing seems worthwhile. Problems

seem to loom large and stretch endlessly into the future. Life seems so heavy. The

hardest thing is that to get out of it you have to rely on the very thing that seems to be

dragging you down, your brain your perspective.

Taking on a creative challenge can seem like one more opportunity to

fail, one more obligation, one more chore.

I began drawing during a period of trouble and depression too. For

me, having a program to follow was the answer. I could force myself to just do that day's

assignment. Then do the next one on the next day. I wouldn't argue with my black cloud,

I would just get a sort of tunnel vision that said, "Do this thing now. Worry about its

value and purpose later."

I found books like The Artist's Way and Drawing on the Right Side of

the Brain to be key during this period. They set me very specific exercises and I did

them and then could say to myself, "Well, you did that. Let's see what happens tomorrow." I

had a sense of accomplishment when I did a little exercise and so that fueled me to

do the next one. I would take that part of me that made me feel bad and bring it in to

fight the lazy part of me. "Come on, you made a commitment, don;t fail yet again at this,

you suck, you fail at everything, can't you even do this?!" and the the beaten, sagging

party of me would pick up the pen and, even if out of sheer guilt, would do another drawing

that led me that much further on the path out of the darkness. I left my drawing book

in a prominent place so it could nag me if I'd neglected it.

It was that willingness to surrender, to put myself into the hands

of a rigid program, that led me slowly towards a sense of confidence and perspective.

Set yourself tasks. My book is full of them and so are the books

mentioned above. The Artist's Way is both good and bad because it gives you room to rant

and bitch. The good: it turns those sour feelings into something productive, The bad: it

can tend to encourage negativity too. I wanted to be chipper and positive but I

acknowledge that can make the whole damned thing seem to cheerful and peppy for people to relate

to sometimes.

Don't use me as an excuse. I sat and stared out the window too. I

contemplated medication. I still kick myself every time as evening has gone by

and I've done nothing but thumb the remote. I suck as much and more as you do, I just didn't

put that part in my book.

Stop labeling yourself. Stop thinking of what you were or could have

been. Sure, once you were fabulous and now you suck. Once you could touch your toes, wear

a size four, draw like a pro, and now life has taken over and kicked you down. Big

deal. That was then, this is now. Start today.

Get a blank book. Do a drawing of anything. Write down next to it

how you feel, what you are thinking, what the weather is like, what you saw last night on

TV, anything. Draw in swoopy letters, in color ink, in girly gel pens, in ketchup. Keep it

concise, make it poetry. Then, when you get up tomorrow morning, do it again. Draw your

breakfast, that's a good start. Take ten or fifteen minutes to do it. If the exercise makes

you feel like doing more, do it, but don't exhaust or depress yourself or set yourself up for

failure. Be gentle as you would with one of your elementary school students. Slowly, nicely,

sweetly. Don't judge what you have drawn or written. Don't. Just put it away until the

next day, then do it again. Don't scan it onto a blog or share it with your spouse or boast

about it or anything. Just keep doing it, and doing it.

You have the right to do it. And the more you try, the more you will

get out of it. Somedays you will hate doing it, some days it will thrill you. I

don't care. Do it again. Just ten minutes a day, ten minutes with no connection to your past as an

artist or your future potential. Just ten minutes now, today. It will make your life

abetter place. It may not be utopia but even if it's hell at least you'll have amore clear

vision of what it looks like.

Take the first step, let me know what happens. I'll be waiting.

Your pal,

Danny