Psycho Baby

Since my mental health diagnosis means I am prone to fits of compulsivity, not excluding trying to kill myself because why not? I am only allowed to pick up my antidepressants, anti-psychotics, sleeping tablets and anything else once a week.

This, I am told, is a safety precaution, I only am allowed to have 28 tablets at any one time (this is on them trusting me to take them every day like a good little girl). If I were to take all 28 at once on pick up day, I probably wouldn't die, presuming someone found me. My care team are obviously doing well on keeping me safe and they all pat themselves on the back.

My week gets punctured with a visit to the pharmacy to collect all my tablets and then toddle off home knowing that I will be back again in a few days. The whole staff team recognise me the moment I walk in, this is for a variety of reasons I'm sure,

  1. I have bright red hair, but only half a head of it. I shave my undercut regularly, mmmm furry.
  2. I have a large tattoo, of two heads, on my boobs and chest.
  3. I have, on occasions, lost my shit, everywhere in Boots, and cried and screamed when (yet again) they have got my prescription wrong, or even better, they don't have it.
  4. I'm there every week and they just recognise me because they have excellent customer service.

I really want to believe they recognise me for my looks and not my impulsive and outrageous behaviour at times. The way they tread on egg shells though makes me believe, they don't want a screaming mess in their pharmacy.   Anyway. This means I have a large collection of boots prescription boxes, everywhere. I was unsure why I didn't just throw them away once taking the blister packs out. I have three or four boxes every week and I think it's been quite a few months now (almost a year), so as you can imagine, that is a large amount of boxes.

Pickles visited late last year, and while we were talking about art and leafing through art books I pulled out all the boxes out and basically said “I'm collecting these and I don't know why”. Obviously in the back of my mind I had an artwork forming. A few hours later, Pickles and I had an idea (I'm not going to tell you what exactly), and I had a proposal to write. So I did, and now I'm looking to show the work and slowly making it.

When I say life leads into art, this is exactly what I mean. Art is all around us, as is inspiration. It's just up to us (me) to find it.

n.b It's not always as easy as I've stated above. Quite often there's tears, crippling self doubt and lots of hiding in the pub complaining that I can't call myself an artist if I don't make any art.

n.b2, or they recognise me by my TERRIBLE fashion sense, yes, it's that, I'm sure.


If you liked this you might like, twitterinstagram or my facebook page.