Are Zhu Artistic?

Who am I?

I'm just a suburb kid

Livin’ in a cul-de-sac world

Strollin' through the park, wandering anywhere

Kind of a big question when you get down to it.

I am me.

Me is a woman, a mother, a wife, a friend, a lover, a boss, a home cook edging between intermediate and advanced culinary artistry, an entrepreneur, a cat aficionado, a deadly fish caretaker, a melophile, a lover of smut, an amateur artisan, resourceful, authentic, witty, an ambivert, honest, and a little bit wild.

How did I get here?

I SIMPLY TRIED.

Growing up, I had what felt like a normal, not super notable existence.  

My parents divorced when I was young, likely for the best given the very small bursts of memory I still have from those days.  I remember how hard my mom had to work to make things happen and give me a good childhood.  I remember my dad being the "fun dad" on the weekends but somehow always working and traveling but never having enough to just be content.

I was fortunate to meet one of my best and longest standing friends in the 4th grade in Girl Scouts and somehow she hasn't been able to get rid of me yet ;).  My next best friend and I met in middle school, and he and I are birthday neighbors and he hasn't been able to ditch me yet either.  I definitely latch on to the people who get me.

I was a "good kid" with a "bright future" and just kind of did what I was supposed to do to get where I was expected to be.  I was told to try, so I did.  I was bright, funny, a little awkward and always was the person people could count on to get things done - still am.  I was the first of my peers to hit puberty (lucky fucking duck I am) so that twisted me a bit.  Through high school I always had some guy in tow, but was still innocent enough to be scared of the unknown and "down there".  Regarding the rest of my teenage exploits, I was a typical eldest daughter - high amounts of responsibility, people pleasing and basically had no concept of how to set boundaries.

I met my first husband freshman year of college and completely threw myself into the relationship. I worked my way through college, got my degree, got my first "real" job before I even graduated from college - typical high achiever, making my parents proud.  I supported my self and my now ex husband while he tried to find work in an already dying field.  He ended up going back for a second bachelor's degree while simultaneously discovering that he enjoyed dating 19 and 20 year old girls while being in a long term relationship with me while I supported him.  He even married me while this was going on and I was so into the "life" we had together that I couldn't see the red flags.  So, when I caught him in our home in bed with some girl with all the pictures taken down from the walls while I climbed the stairs to what I was dreading I would find, I felt like a train had run me over but not done a good enough job to put me out of my misery.

And so I tried.  I tried SO HARD.  

I wanted to much to get back what I lost and couldn't imagine a life without that stupid husband I had chosen.  We moved, I left my job when my boss shoehorned me into forcing me into a contract that would require me to work under a very aggressive department head, and I found a new job in a completely new field.  I went to therapy to "save my marriage".  I started throwing myself into my new job and found new friends there.  In fact, I found the good husband in that group.  Meeting him helped me realize that my now ex-husband was using me and I was simply the glue keeping everything from crumbling.  So I got a divorce, and shacked up with the good guy.  

I decided to try again.

Ended up getting married a few years later and getting pregnant almost immediately.  Life was good.  Things were going as they "should".  The husband was happy, so I was happy... right?

I think my depression started sometime after my son was born.  There were a lot of factors playing into this but the simple way to describe the feeling is that my attention was pulled in every direction except towards myself.  So myself got put way up high on a shelf and started collecting dust, growing mold and decaying a bit.  All the focus was on the TRYING HARD.  Had to take care of the son, the husband, the family, somehow see the friends, have a job, support a business, keep a house running and clean, and all the rest of it.  "Me" didn't exist anymore, and even if she did, she felt guilty asking for any attention.  I denied my true self for longer than I'd like to admit.  

I tipped a little further forward looking down that spiral about 6 years after my son was born and just got sad.  Like, really really sad.  Crying in the car when driving home for no real reason.  Not just little tears - big tears paired with wails and whys.  Like the world was suffocating me.  So, I found a therapist who sent me to a shrink who put me on "take the edge off pills".  And it helped me TRY AGAIN.  I gave a little less care about the things around me and was able to just sit back and watch life a little.  I was able to funnel the attention that was normally assigned to the rest of the world towards myself and my thoughts.

At first it scared me, worried me that things would have to change.  I came to realize that I might be capable of things I didn't understand fully or that I might want things that don't work with my current life arrangement.  I spent 6 months fine tuning my life and practicing mindfulness.  Taking myself out of things I had no reason to be attached to.  Changing my approach to people and situations.  Practicing not giving a fuck when it doesn't make sense to give any.  I decided when the time was right to stop the meds - they were a crutch with some less than desirable side affects.  When they wore off, it was like a light switch getting turned on.  I felt EVERYTHING rushing in at me all at once.  I found feelings in new places.  Woke up one day and started painting.  Started twirling and dancing to music again.  Started singing while working.  Music made me feel things again for the first time in 15 years.  I decided to bare my soul to the world by funnelling my emotions into something constructive.  Everything I create is emotional and personal to me.  It all has a story to tell.

And now I am trying, but maybe a little less hard.  I'm doing art by feeling.  Living my life by how my gut feels.  Acting on impulse when it causes no harm to myself or others and adds joy to my life.

AND

I

LOVE

IT

TLDR: I got stressy depressy, medicated for a bit, dug myself out my deep shithole and then came off the meds so I could feel "me" again.