New Art Soon, and Mental Health

Hey again, everryone. I've resolved to stop making excuses for my long absences, and I'd really like to thank everyone who has continued to support me here through my most recent one. It means the world to me that people are willing to stick with me (or maybe you just forgot you were giving me money).

First off, I'll have new art soon. Hopefully by the end of the holiday weekend here in the U.S.. After that, I'll do my best to keep up some kind of pace, but I've also learned not to make promises I don't know if I can keep. If you have no interest in my life beyond the fact that I provide you with fetish art, which is totally fair, you can stop reading here, and know that new stuff is on the way.

Now the main part of this post. I've never discussed it any detail, but if you've followed me the last five years or so, it's probably pretty obvious that I struggle with my mental health. That struggle is not just responsible for my sporadic uploads. It's responslbe for deleted accounts and drawings, for alienating some of the friends I've made through my art, and the fact that I can't look at a lot of my old drawings. It's a battle I've been fighting literally since I was in the 2nd grade and first had the thought pop into my head that it would be better for everyone if I wasn't alive anymore. And in the last year or so, despite increasingly intense medical treatments, it's not getting better.

It's not that I don't try. I spent years going through one medication after another in an effort to repair my faulty brain. I finally found a combination that's moderately effective, but that's been the best case scenario. And it comes at the price of making me perpetually sleepy. Most days after work it's all I can do to not go straight to bed when I get home. Back in December, I underwent an experimental treatment that promised a very high rate of relief, if not an outright cure, for my depression. It worked well, and in an ideal world I think I'd be largely depression-free.

As you might know, the world is far from perfect, and for a few months now, staying alive has been a daily, and often hourly, struggle. At the start of last week, I didn't think I'd still be alive to write this today. At this point, I'm not really sure what else I can do. I've gone off all social media (highly recommended!), don't read the news, and have basically become a hermit who only leaves my house for work. It still hasn't allowed me to be productive, and hasn't stopped me from wanting to end it all at least once a day.

I don't know what the point of writing all this is. In my real life, I've been candid about the couple of times my desire to die has gone beyond something I think about in the shower and took physical form. After all, when you end up hospitalized for days or weeks, you kind of have to tell at least a few people why you missed work or appeared to fall off the face of the earth. And since I'm getting paid here, I feel some of that same responsibility. I still want to draw. I come up with ideas constantly. I just can't execute them when I'm usually too tired to sit up, let alone hunch over my tablet for hours at a time.

Thank you for sticking around. I'll try to do the same.