even breathing feels alright

All of My Days from Kate Swoboda on Vimeo.

You know that feeling you get, right after a really long, hard, cry–suddenly something in your body unlocks (for me it’s across my chest, my heart) and then shoulders drop and everything feels incredibly calm and clear?

I’ve spent the past few days just sitting with my sadness. Not busying myself with stuff, not running about, but just sitting with it. Camping out in front of the computer watching instant downloads on Netflix, reading books, taking naps, avoiding folding the laundry.

I believe that we need these places–these unproductive places, these places where seemingly nothing is happening. “But Kate,” someone might say, “If someone is severely depressed, and they start doing what you’ve just described, it will only get worse.”

Ah, but I think there is a difference between sitting with something, which is a highly active process despite its seeming lethargy, and being mired in a severe depression. In case you’re thinking next time a sad space comes you’d like to try out the “sitting with”, here’s a few key pieces:

Sitting with:

* Conscious of and willing to reach out for help at any time, and committed to doing so if the feelings get too overwhelming.

* Setting up ways to check-in with oneself (i.e., “I’m feeling sad/resistant/frustrated; I’ll check in again in one hour to see how I’m feeling and if I feel ready yet to do something that might lift me out of that.”)

* Openness to trying new things.

* Willingness to feel the feelings as they arise, without denying them or shaming oneself for them.

So while I’ve spent more time “watching television” (we actually don’t have a TV, Netflix on a laptop is about it) in the past week than I have since May of 2009, I’ve also been crying a lot, journaling, sitting quietly, focusing on using my tools, and–yesterday–trying new things. For me, that was painting.

I have not sat down for a “real” painting session since at least February of 2009. In February of 2009, we packed up our things into a storage locker and began a short-lived career as house-sitters. Then I went to Italy for the summer and told myself that I’d spend time painting there, even if I had to re-buy supplies at EU prices. Nope, didn’t happen. Even after getting my office completely arranged and making room for creativity here in November, I didn’t really get out my supplies. When I started the Across Mediums e-course, I loved that it gave me a real reason to pull things out. Yet even this was not a “real” painting session to me, because I knew that I did need to document what I was doing so as to have pictures to go with the course. I didn’t totally feel like I was working just for myself, without any goal of showing it to anyone, and I didn’t really have the indulgence of pulling out all of my supplies. Additionally, one of the points of the AM course is that one needn’t–shouldn’t–spend a lot of time trying to work on a project or final project. The point is to spend 20 minutes a day on something, do what one can, and let go after that.

So yesterday, I pulled out all of my supplies. (My office right now is a blooming mess.) And I couldn’t find the plastic plate that I use as an easel. Whine, whine whine–pull out tinfoil and cover a regular plate already, Swoboda. And all of my paintbrushes had these odd little things on them about the size of pieces of sand, which I take to mean that spiders or some other bug laid eggs in the bristles while they were in storage. Ew. And–okay. Put some dirt on it, Swoboda.

I painted for hours. I listened to Krishna Das and the soundtrack to Vicky Christina Barcelona. I painted past and through lunch. I literally forgot to eat. Then I finally did eat and there was a letter in the mail that opened my heart and as I read it, I cried big, hard, long tears while holding it and sitting on the couch.

When I was finished crying, something in me was unlocked, and the first thing that I wanted to do was make this video. I had been inspired to take footage of a day that I went out with my SX-70 and shot pictures of magnolias and then with my Canon Digital Elph I filmed the pictures while they were developing. I’d also taken some beach footage while Andy and I stole away to Pacific Grove last weekend. And did I mention that I found a really awesome pair of cowgirl boots, all tooled up and tricked out and fancy? (I feel shy about wearing them, yet when I do I feel like a total superhero. Where’s my cape and a trusty steed?)

I had such fun making this video, and it felt real and funny and true. It came together in about an hour, which is super fast for me with video making of this kind.

I share it with you, in the hopes that if you are going through a raw or tender place right now, it inspires adventure, or that you know you are not alone (you are never alone), or that you laugh, or that you feel the urge to go wake up your cat to pet her cute little nose. Something.

I love the last line of the song: “Even breathing feels alright.”

I feel like I can breathe, again. Turns out it was me who needed to give myself permission.