I hesitated sharing this, but sometimes you have to shed some light upon darkness. I doodled this while talking to my dad on the phone the other day. He was telling me about how my mom is back in the hospital again. Mental illness took its grip on her yet again. I've seen this cycle repeat so many times, it's like a script that's been repeating for decades.
I hate that she's suffering so much. Whether you're the one suffering directly or a loved one suffering indirectly, it's a horribly helpless feeling and it affects most of us in some form. Especially now being a grown man with three young children, those patterns that I grew up with need to be stopped.
I spent my childhood drawing. Art was how I processed my emotions and still is. I didn’t know how to express them otherwise or maybe I was too afraid to try. I didn’t know how to help my mom then and I still don’t.
I think that my obsessive search for answers and truth is partially what’s driven me to be an artist. My art helps me heal and I hope that it helps others as well.
I'd like to pretend that things are always shiny and happy but a lot people we all love are suffering and this topic deserves attention. I share this to do my part to break the taboo of mental illness. I send love out to everyone who needs it.