I woke up tired, but relaxed, because of the lack of sleep. I was so tired I could not focus on the task at hand, eating and writing before going to the gym. I finally made my way to the kitchen, made a bowl of cereal and brought it to my room. I faced the laptop but could not write my blog, nor could I write the report due on the 15th of June. Between Twitter, Instagram and Facebook, before I knew it was 8:30, so I got ready for the gym and awaited to hear from Cobi. Around 8:45 he texted me saying he'd sleep in, which worked out great because our meeting time was at 8:50 to make it to the gym by 9 am, when they opened. I walked alone on the usual path or bunnies, sun, and university workers that have an early start. Arrived at the gym and found out it was closed.
Texted Aimee (not the first time today), to let her know the gym was closed and that I was gonna wait a few minutes and then head back. Knowing I had not slept much, she commented that she did not understand why I was having such a bad beginning, and I told her it was no big deal. She told me she believed Katie was at the institute already and that I could talk to her to confirm my stay for next month.
I walked back at 10 past 9 and instead of going to the institute I walked a straight path towards the main entrance and, where a strange booth installation sits, decided to call my friend Jan and talk to her about what might happen for the next two months. Saw a university worker (an electrician) who said hi and smiled at me, and Jan answered the phone on the first ring. I was feeling somewhat uncomfortable about staying another month here, because I deeply felt like it was a selfish act, that I was betraying all my friends back at home and forsaking my family. Strange, I know, but deep insideI felt a bit of that. You see, for me this experience has been one of suspension, of being completely isolated from all that is not good in my everyday life, but unfortunately at the expense of losing everything that is good. That did not felt too bad, because I was replacing my usual goods with new ones, the new friends and experiences I was meeting here. Jan was completely wonderful on the phone and let me know that this was a time for me to experience this, to enjoy and put off being back on the grind for as long as possible. She told me about her experiences in France with John every summer, and how it was great to live another life, however momentary. We also talked about other things, including my family, which was great to share it with someone who knows me well. By the time I hung up and walked back to the institute I felt as if I had a confirmation, that I was allowed to stay here (which also backed up what my friend Mike had said). I also sent a message to Chris, who had told me about this place originally, thanking him for the suggestion (coincidentally he is gonna be in town on Sunday and want to have margarita's but drinking is the last thing in my mind).
I walked to the institute and stopped by Aimee's studio to talk to her. She told me to walk to the office and talk to Katie, but I told her I wanted her to approach me, so I went to my room and checked my email. I had received an email from Katie, and unfortunately the answer was not the one I wanted. Instead of addressing what Diane had told me to ask her, whether I'd have to move room and studio, Katie wrote me that I'd only be able to stay if I paid the fee. Before answering her I forwarded the email to Aimee, who wrote me immediately saying she was shocked (apparently Cobi was with her, as he was shocked too). I then wrote Katie back saying that it was not gonna happen then. The truth is that even though the fee is pretty small, I cannot afford it. I've been getting into major debt for a while now, and if I had to buy my friend a return ticket, and pay for half of the expenses during his stay here while we vacationed around the southwest for 10 days, and then a month later pay for my trip back home, I'd be completely broke and maxed out.
It was then that I felt like all the blocks that make up the pyramids fell over me, and crushed me to the ground. I sat in my room, moving from one device to the other (phone, iPad, laptop), but could not seem to focus on anything. Aimee wrote me again, really upset, and asked if I wanted her to intervene, and I told her that I had already declined. I began chatting with strangers online (people I have been chatting with since arriving here, locals whom I have never met) to see if I could get my mind out of this situation, but I could not, and eventually the situation spilled into our conversations. I texted Mike about the new twist of events, he told me he'd call me back. I made a phone call to my friend Jay, we caught up, and I told him what was going on. As always he was understanding and caring, and said he looked forward to my return home. I asked him if I could get some art supplies delivered at his home, and he said of course I could. I had gotten reward points (which equaled cash) from Utretch, where I buy most of my art supplies, as well as a 40% off cupon I had to use by June 18 (my sister's birthday). When I thought I was gonna stay another month, I decided to make another large 4'x 7' painting to go with the one in progress in my studio (in my mind a pair works best in a solo show, than a random lonely ranger), and I'd get this delivered here (along with other stuff) and somehow find a way to bring it all back home at the end of the residency (it is a tryptich, not one solid piece). Now if I wanted to take advantage of the discount, I'd need it at my studio home.
Got an email from Aimee telling me that she'd go to lunch in 20 minutes. As I was still on the phone with Jay when she wrote, I told her I'd meet her as soon as I got off the phone and took a shower. Unfortunately I had forgotten she was having lunch in town with some people she met last month, and that is what her message meant. I walked into the kitchen and immediately see Katie, who says hi (had not seen her since her return from vacation). I said hi back and and start preparing my salad. She goes on saying she was sorry about me not being able to stay, and my reply was pretty short, almost like a "whatever" but not as openly rude, probably something like "what can I say?" and continued grabbing my stuff. She was taken aback, and because I could not avoid turning her way, and because I did not go off on her, I began asking questions about her vacation, her creative work, etc, as if I cared one bit. Actually I somewhat care about it, as much as I care for everyone's, but my goal was really to keep my speaking to a minimum. By the time my salad was ready she was feeling better about her actions and our exchange, I could see she felt relieved, and I walked to the courtyard feeling terrible. The way I saw it, one of us was gonna feel like a pile of shit, so I chose to be the fall guy in this exchange. I texted Aimee asking her where she was, and briefly mentioned my encounter with Aimee. I swallowed the salad and returned to the room (where I found taped to my door a Claritin Aimee had left for me, for my allergies), to face the computer screen, the blank page of the blog app and the almost fully written but not revised report. I started and stopped working on both several times, chatted and unchatted with online folks as well, and laid down for a bit. I wrote Jan about what had happened and did not receive any answer.
Looking back now I think I felt a range of emotions ranging from sadness and anger. To this moment I do not understand the reason I was given to why I had to pay. I do not understand how a professional organization can be so blatantly contradictory and disorganized. I am 100% sure that the program will go on without my money because, well, because they are going to run it without my money, with an empty room and an empty studio. I'd be surprised if what they asked me to pay covers even 10% of their monthly bills (but which is more than my studio rent at home, the empty studio I am not using right now). And in case it is not clear, I believe at least a third of the residents are not paying anything to stay here (I mean zero dollars), in some cases for three months. Which I genuinely and truly believe to be wonderful, and in fact it was one of the things that made me think this place was great. I did not mind paying the first month one bit, but that was when I thought I was going home at the end of this month. These past two weeks have been so great, that when the possibility of extending it for much longer (and because all the residents I told about it were so happy and excited), I fully embraced it.
Now I really wished I had been asked in the first place by Diane if I wanted to stay longer. I do not hold it against her at all (she's been good for me in her own way, and I really appreciate that), but I think their lack of organization (and probably communication) makes for a very dysfunctional operation here. I had been told by some people who know the place, and all the continuing residents from the previous month, of their issues here, but I put those things aside and believed that the best her prevailed. But now I see what they mean.
Like dating, when you first meet someone and build this better picture about them by filling in the wholes with fantasy, I pictured this place as an oasis, a bubble where only good things could happen. Funny enough I'm not crazy about the town of Santa Fe at all, which furthered my isolation here. Unfortunately like my dating experiences, I seem to come into contact with dysfunctional people who make me feel like crazy. Here was the same, but instead of being shocked and disappointed by how someone chews their food or speak about their mother, it was as if I went from being hugged to being beaten up unconsciously. At least that was how it felt.
After being in my room for two hours and not wanting to see or talk to anymore, online on in person (Cobi texted me about going to the Rouge Cat at night, I told him I was not in the mood, alcohol being the last thing I needed), I decided to get out of the building and go to the place I had wanted to go from day one, and do the thing I had wanted to do from the get go, but which I did not because I was having too much fun in the house, with my new circle. I drove to Canyon Road with my camera, my water bottle, and my cowboy hat (that Aimee had fixed after I came back from the gym). I decided to play tourist and walk up and down the road. The heat was intense, and the people were specially kind to me. Everywhere I went I was greeted with a smile, which made my chest further sink, instead of making me feel better. On the second gallery I went to I was invited to come to their salon at the end of the month. The next gallery the man at the desk said hello and asked if I needed water, which I needed but said no right away, because I actually did not understand at first his question. I walked up and down the road, entering every place, photographing every shadow as if I was a weird tourist or an art student. At one point I walked into a gallery where a woman was painting, she did not even hear me walking in (my invisible self), until she saw me, and we talked a bit about the color gray, being an artist, being an artist in Santa Fe, and it felt good talking to her. One thing I really like about this town is that when you tell someone you are an artist nobody bats an eye, there is no need for further explanations.
I continued my walk. I was extremely thirsty and had to go to the bathroom at the same time. I was afraid I would pass out in one of the galleries and take down on my fall one of the overpriced pieces of art, so I tried to walk as slowly as possible. I went down a hill and found a tea house. I walked in with the hopes they had a cool room, a bathroom, and an afternoon snack. Aimee sent me a text - she was back from her lunch - and I told her I had left the house. If Mike was not coming out here to drive back with me, I'd probably be on the road to Michigan, because I had no desire to stay in the institute any longer. I stayed at the tea house for about 25 minutes, with no phone service and no one to talk to (which made me think about my life at home, and all the meals eaten alone, which had not been the case here), and probably had the worst service I've ever had anywhere (though the servers were kind to me, I had the suspicion they had just opened and were understaffed). I left still thirsty (though I refilled my water bottled and added mint leaves from my fruit salad to it), and continued my walk until the road ended, and then I walked back on the other side of it. I entered a gallery and a woman was pulling a painting out of a box and asked for my help. She told me I could count on it as being my good action for the day. I walked into another gallery and realized it was one of the few galleries I had been before the last time I was on that part of town. I immediately turned around and the woman at the desk smiled and asked me if i had any questions. I told her I thought I had been there already, with an awkward smile, as I tried to leave, and she told me she recognized me, and asked my name. We shook hands and she began talking about some of their new stuff. She showed me a Gauguin print they had just gotten (I had no idea what she said until I saw the signature, not sure if it was her pronunciation or the clouds in my head). She then showed me a Picasso print that was on hold (the proud green dot at its side) as a potential wedding gift a husband was probably buying to his soon to be wife (I hope her dating choices were better than mine). We then talked about the lines, I pointed a Picasso gesture which she agreed with. We had a detached but pleasant exchange. I then realized how bored these people must be, sitting alone in these rooms and dealing with tourists every day. I finally left and continued my walk back to the car. Walked into a beautiful gallery that was having a gallery talk, closed to the public. I noticed the look of horror the attendant had when she saw me, an obvious tourist (hat, shorts, flip flops, water bottle, camera) amidst the private collectors and in crowd being part of their tour, walking towards the front door. Because it is so dry here, tons of art work are displayed outside, without the risk of rain or humidity ruining it (or maybe they just like the market appeal). I walked towards the door, and stopped short of entering by grabbing a postcard with the show info at a shelf right next to the entrance. I turned around, smiled at myself, and invited myself to come there to their Friday night opening reception. It was five o'clock then, time to go back and possibly run into no one, as business hours were over. It felt like an eternity to find the car, but eventually I did, and found my way back to the institute through mild traffic, feeling worse than when I had left, though distracted.
I found a semi-shaded parking spot, turned around and walked to the front door. Right before the entry point, Katie gets out of the building and says bye with a smile. I just nod and walk in, straight to my room, as fast as I could. Locked myself in my room before anybody saw me, ate something I had there, and faced the screen once again. When I get in these depressive states I act like a sick animal, who hides from their owner before their death. That is exactly what I was doing then. I did not want to talk about it, I did not want to bitch about it, I did not want to get any sympathy. I just wanted to be left alone with my pain, which was progressively increasing. The chest pain during my walk increased and moved up to the back of my head and eventually down my arms and stomach. All the soothing effects of my day on the spa were gone, and I felt worse than before. I laid in bed trying to make sense of it all, trying to be aware of my feelings, my emotions. It all seemed so completely insane. I felt like a spoiled brat, being all depressed about my first world problems. There is real sadness and danger and hunger and sadness and unfairness in this world, an yet my pain was paralyzing. It was real. I felt hurt, wounded, betrayed, taken advantage of, undermined, disrespected, taken for granted. I also felt very stupid and out of control. In retrospect I should've banged my head on the wall until I snapped out of it, because the situation was so ridiculous. I was pathetic. And I felt powerless because I could not do anything about it.
That is the funny thing about depression, it has a life of its own. Before and while I was in therapy, people in my life told me I was bipolar, that I had borderline personality disorder. My therapist, whom I saw for three years, told me I have something called dysthymia, or chronic mild depression, with bouts of deep depression (look it up, if you may). I was in a deep depression moment. What triggers them vary, and for what I understand it is somewhat similar to a panic attack, as far as how they both escalate (though there is usually a visible direct connection with my depression, though this may be something particular to me, I am not studied enough on the subject to know much about it). I have taken medication before, but the problem with that is that sometimes the medication makes me even more depressed and a bit aggressive (which I sometimes believe it is a bad combination with my auto-immune situation, which affects my mood as well). So I avoid medications of all kind as much as possible, even a common aspirin. Yesterday, as much as I rationalized that I had no reason to be depressed, I felt it consume me and take me to a very dark place. Around 9 pm I realized I could not stay locked into my room for the rest of my time here (though I have access to food and water to last me as long). I thought about sleeping all day and working all night, in order to avoid people. I felt so embarrassed. Embarrassed for making a fool of myself, embarrassed for being sad. I did not and do not want to talk to any one of them about all of this (though most likely they will be the only people that will read this and find out what I have been thinking/feeling). I hope we can just not talk about this and move on with the rest of the program. There is nothing to discuss. It is a done deal, and I need to stop the socializing and get into work mode. Time will fly and I need to get some stuff done.
Tried writing, erased everything, started again, nothing worked. Tried ordering art supplies, but the site would not accept my information, and it was too late to call the East coast and order over the phone. The idea of working all night and sleeping all day (such a bad song, no?) was still fresh in my mind, so I watched two episodes of my Netflix show until it was past 10:30, when I knew for sure Cobi and everyone else would be out of the studio. I turned all my lights off and slowly opened my door, as quietly as I could. I walked in the dark towards the gallery, and saw three people talking in the courtyard, in the dark, but I believe they did not see me. I made it to the studio undetected, closed the door and turned the lights on. Prepared the medium for my papers, put away some books, and coated my papers. Washed the brush and walked back to my room. The people were still outside, talking, I recognized John and Marisa, so I assumed the third person was Charlie. Sat at the computer, still feeling crappy, and began writing my blog entry. I accidentally hit the iPad screen and lost what I wrote. Began again, and wrote an extremely convoluted and dark entry, and for once I wished for a zero audience, or at least for an audience that does not feel like I am a sad or sorry person. I just needed to get those thoughts out of my head so that they became things and not consuming thoughts that constitute the person I am/was at that moment. Hit the send button a few minutes before midnight, and went to bed. As I tried to fall asleep I realized I had to get over this horrible feeling. I thought about my first year in therapy, and the book I read called "radical acceptance". I told myself "I have depression and I am depressed right now" a few times and closed my eyes. I tried to stay in the moment, but my mind kept going back and forward in time, recalling the day I had had and the day I was gonna have, the day I felt I had and the day I wished to have the next day. Four hours later it was another day.
- posted via iPad
Location:Cerrillos Rd,Santa Fe,United States
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