Author: hamishmacdonald

With yesterday’s diary comix, I reached the end of another sketchbook, so I made a new one.

(I don’t have any special affinity for New York, I just like the colours and designs of vintage posters and found this paper in a drawer.)

…Except that the article my friend sent me says that Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria goes hand-in-hand with ADD/ADHD, as it’s a neurological proclivity, not the result of past experience. I don’t think I have ADD/ADHD.

I really relate to the article’s description of the condition, though, and through the years I’ve been told countless times “You think too much” (which always bothered me, as it implied there’s an appropriate level of thought, and it’s low). I also seem to feel things unreasonably intensely.

So is it that I think too much, or that I feel too much?

Yes.

(Thankfully, these episodes also seem to pass quickly, although that often leaves me feeling silly for having reacted so strongly.)

I go back and forth on the trauma thing: My Landmark training would say that the past is the past, and I should just get over whatever stories I made up about it. But I recognize that there are situations where I just can’t do it; I’m just unreasonably sensitive to certain things, and it feels very much like this has to do with the past — especially as it relates to growing up in an atmosphere of homophobia (in school, not at home).

Between that and the nightmare of dating, I developed a bit of an “I’m going to leave you first” attitude. Through the years, I’ve seen this come up again and again for me with Strategic Coach, where I keep reaching for the “Eject” button on my chair, then later wonder “What was I thinking?”

It feels doubly unfortunate that I should be like this while also being someone who does creative work — which all involves, at some point, putting that work in front of other people, who will necessarily have a reaction to it. I just want to share with people who find joy in what I can do; I don’t want to fight with anyone or be hated.

Hm. I write these as I go along, so they’re not always coherent. In this case, I don’t mean to say that Christmas and Craig’s birthday weren’t joyful. There are joys — they’re just slight and subtle these days.

Prince Edward Island has announced that it will lift its mandates in April, and even though many of us are wary of this move, oh, the idea of a summer!

Even being in the coffeeshop this morning was such a treat — to have time and space out in the world, away from computers, to just think and sip and draw.

I made a little sketchbook at the start of the year, meaning to do more drawing that isn’t so purposeful, like my work-work and my diary comix, that’s just a space to play in, to experiment, where I’m allowed to get things wrong and have them not turn out.

So I opened that after I finished the comic above, and, after starting with my customary self-portrait, doodled a few of the other patrons, and the neighbours’ dog, who was stuck outside for a while last night. That was fun!

I skipped my usual café breakfast yesterday because the COVID infection rate here in PEI is multiplying. So I didn’t have time for my usual breakfast and drawing session, but I did quickly thumbnail a diary comic. Things are busy in the lead-up to Christmas, both at work and at home, so I don’t see myself getting ’round to doing a proper version of this.

I did think it was a pretty obvious metaphor for what’s going on…

So for one, there’s this sudden exponential spike in cases here on PEI, and some restrictions are being put back into place. As Craig and I dashed around town yesterday running errands, though, it didn’t really look like anything had changed. We are completely vulnerable to this thing, because we refuse to give up our usual consumer Christmas stuff.

I’d also read an article in the Manchester Guardian about Boris Johnson, and the sneering contempt and corruption of the ruling class he belongs to. It’s no better here in Canada.

Plus we’d watched Tick, Tick… Boom! on Friday, Jonathan Larson’s musical about his panicked attempt to become a success before his thirtieth birthday — which was tinged, of course, with the knowledge that he died the night before his eventual breakthrough hit, Rent, opened on Broadway. It was a powerful show, and I could really relate to both that panicked feeling and the general “theatre-kid energy” of the piece.

All of this added up to… well, aliens, according to my head. I guess that’s the easiest, ready-to-hand metaphor for feeling pessimistic about the state of the world, and being affected by external forces outwith one’s control.