Monday, 7 July 2025

''I should.....I shouldn't....says who? Me, says the internal judge.''


Somewhere in our minds we have inner voices
that tells us what we should or shouldn't do, believe 
or not believe, trust or not trust, but according to
those in the know....if asked, most of us would
find it hard to specify where all those voices
come from.
According to Alain De Botton, a British philosopher,
those voices are an internalization of the voices of people
 who were once ''outside'' of us. 
Imperceptibly, unknowingly however,
we have somehow made them our own.
Some of those voices ''live'' in our conscious mind,
but many more live in our subconscious mind.
A bit like an iceberg: what we ''see''(conscious) is only
 a small portion of what is hidden beneath
 the water. (Subconscious)

Have you ever used the phrase: I shouldn't....xyz?
Or: ''They shouldn't ....xyz?
Or "You, I, they should.......xyz?
Have you ever asked yourself where the inner voice
 telling you what you ''shouldn't'' or ''should'' do
 comes from?
When my son suddenly transformed from a basket ball
and skater kid into a goth, there was no end to the
advice that I was given by people telling me that I ''should'' 
tell him to ''snap out of it'' or leave.
I was told that I shouldn't be so soft, I should show him who
 the boss was.
Agonizing over what to do, I decided to try understanding.
What did being a goth mean to my son, what did the
music he listened to give to him, and how did dressing in
all black and wearing black nail polish make him feel?
My solution was to
 push away all my own and others shoulds and shouldn'ts
and focus on just being there for my son.

In hindsight, I believe that that experience alerted me
to the many critical and judgmental voices that resided
and still reside, within me.
In conversation with a friend I suggested to him that
perhaps much of our shoulds and shouldn'ts are based
on mental shortcuts formed on opinions not based
on critical observation, self-reflection and analysis.
He disagreed and a long discussion on biases ensued.
Wanting to further my understanding of biases
I discovered that there is something called Cognitive
Biases* and that it is something that comes with
being a human being.

*Cognitive Bias is a systematic error in thinking
that affects how we process information, how we
perceive others and ourselves, and how we make decisions.

Bias: Basically, an understanding and observation of something
 impaired by inclinations toward a preferred outcome
and a disregard toward information that contradicts
 that preference.

''The eyes sees only what the mind
is prepared to comprehend.''
(Robertson Davis)

In conclusion:
I have found it helpful to ask myself
''says who?'' if I find myself making snap judgements
rather than considering a number of different
possibilities.
Especially if one of my inner critics keep telling me
what I should or shouldn't do that carries with it
negative consequences rather than positive ones.
(Negative as in pessimistic, positive as in
life-affirming)

''The vast majority of ideas we have
about ''should'' and ''shouldn't'' come from
other people.
We adopt them but they are not ''ours''.
We have not really questioned them
so as to come to our own truth about them.
We just swallow them regardless whether
they reflect our personal truth or not.''
(Teal Swan)




about the images: Iceberg, water colour on paper
Drag queen, acrylic on large canvas

Wednesday, 18 June 2025

When all falls apart...........


Waiting for the hospital to call me and inform me as to
how my son's operation had gone, I restlessly paced
the living room. I had tried to sit down and watch
television but every time I stopped moving
I felt as if I was going to disintegrate into a
pile of little pieces. 
(Like what happens to a LEGO creation if dropped on
 the floor after having spent hours creating it.)

As time went by and the phone remained silent
my anxiousness was quickly heading towards the ''red zone'',
that is: ''critical, bordering on falling apart''.
-Okay, that's it. I'm calling the hospital.
I need to know that my son is okay.
After much ado I was finally able to speak to
a nurse who told me that my son was ''stable''.
Since we had been told that the operation
was very serious and could potentially result
in death, quadriplegia, paraplegia and or other horrible
outcomes, ''stable'' was an unsatisfying answer but 
the nurse said that she was
unable to give me any more information.
-Call back in an hour, she said and then hang up.
Three hours later I was able to find out that
my son had been moved to a ward.
I phoned the ward and was once again told that he
 was stable.

Not long after finishing the conversation with the
hospital my son phoned me on my mobile and
told me that he was in pain but that he was not 
a paraplegic.
I could finally sit down.
I could finally breathe.
Two days later they discharged him although
he was severely traumatized both physically and
 psychologically.

Love it seems, is not so much
a feeling as it is a decision,
a choice to make.

It is now up to me to be the nurse, the doctor,
the psychologist, the parent, the friend, 
the ''whatever'' that will help my son to recover.

It may require me to ''dance'' in and out
of the ''red zone'' at times,
but I know of no other power as strong
and as transformative as love, 
so I choose love.

''Love is not a feeling
Love is a response.
Love is an action.''
(David Jeramiah)

about the image: water colour on paper.
My illustration of going through hard times
when one feels as if one is falling apart.

Saturday, 31 May 2025

You are not alone.....though darkness surrounds you


Hope springs eternal, so some say.
When doubt comes knocking on your door,
send faith to answer it, so some say.
When darkness threatens to overwhelm you,
find a crack in it because that's where the
light can find a way in, so some say.
A single candle, no matter how small,
is able to dispel the darkest of darknesses,
so some say.

These sayings have always sustained me
and kept me hobbling, crawling, dragging myself
toward that spring, that crack, clinging to my
tiny candle trusting that it's little flame will
be enough to help me find my way 
out of the darkness.

 I rather be a candle than curse the darkness,
and I do love the ''chewiness'' of hope.
(How like a chewing gum it keeps sticking
to the bottom of your shoe no matter how
much you try to get rid of it.)
My faith however, or rather the lack thereof,
trying as it may to keep doubt out,
is showing signs of exhaustion and fatigue.
Doubt, like an insidious mist keeps finding
its way into my mind, my soul and my heart.

In a few days I will have to summon up
faith, hope and trust from somewhere so that
when the surgeons plunge their knives
into my son's body they will do so 
expertly and with the greatest of care.

And while I will be waiting for the result of
the operation, I will have to keep holding
on to my little candle, block the door to
 doubt, and keep my anxious heart beating.

Life presents us with many different doors
we must enter through, willingly or not.
Sometimes we are greeted by the unfamiliar,
the unexpected, the unknown and the most feared for.
Sometimes we are greeted by the familiar,
the expected, the dreamed and longed for.

Regardless of what greets us as we
enter through a new door,
deep within in us we have been given
the freedom, the gift of being able to choose
whether we will use this freedom, this gift,
to create within us a new purpose, a new
meaning and a new perspective of just how
uncertain and unpredictable 
but also beautiful and meaningful
is the life of every precious human being.


''Suffering ceases to be suffering
at the moment it finds meaning.''
(Victor Frankl)



If you, reading this, is going through
pain and suffering and feel as if
your little candle(of hope) is about to be 
snuffed out, know this:
You are not alone.

about the image: Graphite on paper
Title: Hang in there, Teddy.

Thursday, 8 May 2025

Be empathetic, it feels good.....and makes others feel good too


 Browsing through a bin of old magazines in a bookshop I came across
an old People Magazine.
Flicking through the pages I found a section called Vintage photos
from the 1930's Depression in the USA.
Though there were a number of very thought provoking
images, there was one photo that spoke straight to my heart.
After reading the short story that was attached to the image
I decided that I had to try to do a painting that somehow
incorporated parts of the story in the painting.
The story:
Among the numerous suffering and starving people
who were experiencing droughts, dust storms, lost livelihoods 
and lost crops, there was a doctor, who by foot tirelessly 
walked the Southern Great Plains offering free medical
assistance to everyone, wherever he went.
*
Watching a video essay together with my son a few
nights ago, we heard the speaker utter these words:
 ''Empathy is a sin.''
The fact that the speaker was a preacher, made us look
at each other in disbelief and yell:
 ''What?!? Did he really say that?''
Having spent the last 25 years of my life absolutely
committed to accumulating as much information
as possible through thorough research founded on
accredited sources, accepted peer reviews, 
and sources globally acknowledged by other experts in
 the field,.........I can say this with confidence:
''Empathy is a sin'' is the very antithetical(opposite) of what most
religious/spiritual/wisdoms texts exhorts.
See, not only did he say that empathy is a sin, but he also said 
that it is a ''weakness''?!!!? Yikes!!!
Does that mean that sympathy and compassion in his view
 are weaknesses as well?
What about kindness? Caring?
In my view, all words are mere approximations.
With this I mean that we attach our own interpretations,
experiences and unconscious biases to the words we
and others use. 
Whatever our definition of empathy may be, just imagine 
a world void of it, or void of compassion and sympathy.
A world in which caring and being kind to others is
a ''bad'' thing, a sign of weakness.
As far as I can ascertain the fact that us humans are able
to express and experience compassion and empathy
for others is one of mankind's most redeeming 
qualities.
Empathy, may I suggest, is the opposite of self-absorption
and narcissism. It's stepping out of one's own ''bubble''
of existence and feel strong enough in one self to be
 able to recognize and identify with others when
they experience struggles and difficult times.
Empathy, rather than making us weaker makes us stronger
because it helps us to foster stronger and deeper relationships
with others.
This in turn promotes a deeper insight and understanding of
each other. A foundation upon which we can build a
compassionate and inclusive community/society.

The words sympathy and empathy are often viewed
as meaning the same thing, but in my view, they are two
different ''creatures''.
Sympathy, I interpret as to ''feeling for xyz'', empathy
I interpret as ''feeling with xyz''.
Compassion I interpret as different from sympathy and empathy
because in my view compassion includes a desire to want to help,
to act in some way that helps alleviate xyz's suffering/pain/etc. etc.

*

''Get a job!'' says the man to the beggar as hurries past him.
''Have some compassion'' says the beggar to the man.

The next day the man passes the beggar again.
''Still here? Begging instead of working, I see,'' says the
man to the beggar.
''Have some compassion,'' says the beggar to the man.

Weeks go by. Hurrying down the street the man passes the beggar.
''Still a loser I see,'' says the man to the beggar.
''Have some compassion,'' says the beggar to the man.

Months go by. Carrying a box with his things in it
the man walks past the spot where the beggar used to be.
The beggar is gone. 

Standing in line at the Job Centre its finally the man's turn.
''Sir, I've lost my job, I've lost
my family, I've lost my home. I need a job,'' says the man.
As he raises his head and looks at the person behind the
glass, he recognizes him. 
It's the beggar.
''Sir, please have some compassion,'' says the man.
The beggar looks the man straight into his eyes
and then says:
''Life can be tough sometimes, it can turn on a dime.
But with a little compassion, a kindly spoken word,
 a dark and dismal day can become rather fine.''

''In my view, the best of humanity is in our
exercise of empathy and compassion.
It's when we challenge ourselves to walk
in the shoes of someone whose pain or
plight might seem so different than yours
that it is almost incomprehensible.''
(Sarah McBride)

about the image: acrylic on large canvas, yellow ink, and
painted with a cloth, not brush

Friday, 11 April 2025

Screaming? Me? I'm just expressing how I feel..........


As long as I can remember I have found it almost
impossible to relieve my inner frustrations and anguish
with the help of screaming.
As far as coping strategies goes, screaming according to
those in the know, can at times be quite useful.
Apparently screaming can lower our cortisol levels
which when we experience stress, frustration and or anxiety
are raised. Screaming, so they say, much like when 
we exercise, releases endorphins(our own bodies feel-good chemicals) 
which brings down the cortisol levels which in turn
provides us with a temporary sense of relief.
There are many different reasons as to why we scream:
Such as to express anger, rage, fear and pain but also
to express pleasure, joy and sadness/grief.
We also scream as a collective at sporting events, concerts
and protests which often can be experienced as a form
of bonding with others.

Most experts view screaming as an innate human
behaviour. I mean, we do come in to the world screaming
but our individual life-experiences also influence
the why, how and when of our ''screaming behaviours''
in congruity with our individual sensitivities.

For years I've pondered why I find it so hard to scream
even when I am experiencing really strong emotions.
Then suddenly one day I realized that I do scream
but I don't do so vocally.
I scream through the medium of art.
I scream on the canvas, I scream through music
by playing, composing or listening to it.
 I scream through expressing it with the written word,
or watching films, videos and documentaries.

 


Whether through visual representation, music, dance,
sculpture, installations, etc. etc. artists have been ''screaming''
through their art ever since the inception of it.

Though most of our communication is done by the
use of the spoken word, in my view, sometimes words just aren't
 safe or enough to convey complex and powerful emotions.
In such situations it may be more helpful to go
for some hectic exercise, put on some loud music,
watch an action movie, throw some eggs on a wall,
translate one's internal(intangible) emotions into
something tangible: gardening, painting, cleaning,
etc. etc. etc.
Or, find a safe space where you can scream your lungs
out without it interfering, hurting or disturbing anybody
else.
Though I still do most of my screaming through art
I have found that on the odd occasion when I need 
to express myself vocally, I hop in my car and go for a drive.
Park somewhere where there's nobody around and
just ''let it rip''.


''No art is silent! Because art is an original idea
and every original idea speaks, every
interesting thought screams, every art talks,
every art screams!
No art is silent!''
(Mehmet Murat Ildan)

about the images: top: Photo, left: mixed media, 
mixed media, middle: graphite.
bottom: mixed media

Thursday, 20 March 2025

The opposite to love is not hate, it is indifference..........





In my view, art is a unique ''language'' that often has the ability
to speak to us much more directly than many other
languages.
Somehow, for many of us it seems to have the ability to bypass
 the analytical and pragmatic part of our brain and find 
its way straight to our ''hearts'', our emotional center's.
For the purpose of this post however, I will
focus on the visual arts.(Paintings)

Having taken part in many exhibitions, I have noticed
 there are some comments that keeps popping up.
Such as: ''Nah, I don't like it. I don't even know what
it's supposed to be."
''That's ugly. Isn't art supposed to be beautiful?''
''A child could have done a better job than that.''
''I know what I like and don't like and that's all 
that matters to me.''
OR
''I have no idea what I'm looking at but it's
making me feel all emotional.''
''This is beautiful! I just love the colours.''
''I know that this is an abstract painting but
I don't care because it speaks to me.''
''I have a feeling that it takes a lot of skill
to paint a painting like this so I appreciate
the work for that although it's not really my
cup of tea.''

Human beings, we are told, seek meaning.
We want to understand who we are, why we are here, 
and what the purpose of our life is.
Uncertainty, so says those in the know,
is the bane of mankind.
We much prefer to know stuff, to acquire as much certainty
as we can, because this makes us feel safe
and more secure.
Many of us prefer not to have to deal with abstractions,
the obscure, the esoteric, the 
concepts that are beyond what we can observe 
physically and that does not relate to our every-day lives.
Life is hard enough as it is, right?
So why do some artists feel that they need to add more
 uncertainty and abstraction to life
by painting ''difficult to understand'' paintings?
Or paintings that contain hidden meanings and
messages?
-Why do you paint such sad paintings, she asked.
-Isn't sadness part of the human experience just as
much as joy? I answered.
-I guess, she retorted.
-Let me explain, I see Joy as a friend, Sadness/Pain
as teacher and myself as the eternal student, I continued.

It's been said that ''a picture paints a thousand words'' which
I take to mean that one single painting has the potential to
 convey something quite complex and emotionally charged 
much more effectively than a multitude of words.
(Painting is just one of many different ways that we
can use to communicate with each other.)

During these (in my view) very turbulent times
it can be easy to fall prey to complacency and
compassion fatigue.
Image after image of pain, suffering and misery
 flashes at warp speed before our eyes on our I-thingy's.
Mass media churning out millions of opinion pieces
all sure of that their opinion is the correct one.
We watch live as drones and missiles strike
their targets and disintegrate cities, historic sites,
hospitals, schools, homes, etc. etc. and yes, killing totally
innocent people.

Facing all this can be overwhelming.
So overwhelming that one may ask oneself:
What can I possibly do that will change anything?

You can do whatever good and kind you can 
for those who need it and who exist in your
circle of existence.
The opposite of love is not hate,
it is indifference.


''Great things are done by a series of
small things brought together.''
(Vincent Van Gogh)


about the images: top: Graphite on large paper, 2nd: Graphite
on large paper, 3rd: Graphite on cardboard, 4th: pencil on medium sized
paper

As an artist/painter most of my work has been called ''message art''.


Saturday, 1 March 2025

Why do we keep making the same mistakes over and over.............


If asked if we consider ourselves to be rational and sensible beings,
most of us would probably answer: most of the time; yes.
Yet, somehow we keep on making the same mistakes
over and over again.
History in general as well as our personal histories can
attest to that it ''is human to err''.
Not only do we make mistakes, but we keep making
them even though we already know the outcomes
from previous experiences.
Although we are supposed to ''learn from our
mistakes'' so say those in the know,
why do we far too often find ourselves
failing to do so?
According to some research, mistakes that involves
 physical pain we tend to find easier not to repeat
than mistakes that are the result of thinking/behaviour
patterns previously established through life experiences.

Those in the know suggest that we tend to create
''set notions'', templates, that we use in order to simplify
 making decisions, forming opinions and judgements.
However, these templates are often founded on
selective and sparse data/information and tend
to be more ''handy'' than helpful.
Challenging these templates (confirmation bias)
involves a shift of mindset and this demands a
lot more effort than just ''going with the gut''.
Also, sometimes we hang on to a mindset that we
know is or will lead to being a mistake
 because we have invested a
lot of time and effort in making it.

However, if we keep making the same mistake over and over
the brain starts to assume(so says those in the know)
 that what we are doing is the correct way of performing
a task and thus creating a habitual ''mistake pathway''.
Eventually this can become a permanent template
that often makes it hard for us to be able to
consider any other possibilities.



My friend looked at the painting and then asked:
-Where on earth do you get your ideas from??!!
-Hm, I'm not sure. Perhaps my willingness to humiliate
myself by making lots of mistakes allows me the 
freedom of discovery?
-What do you mean?
-Not being scared of making mistakes I feel
uninhibited to explore possibilities.
This morning I stood in front of a big, blank canvas.
So I tried something new. I filled spray-bottles with paint
and then started to spray the canvas.
I put it out in the sun to dry and when it was dry,
I put it back on the easel.
As I was staring at the canvas, 
suddenly I ''saw'' Mickey.
So, I painted him.
(A few hours later an elderly woman suddenly appeared 
in my doorway and asked if she could come in. 
Apparently she had watched me through the
 screen-door painting Mickey. 
She took one look at it and asked if it was
for sale. Sure, I said. Long story short.....I gave her
the painting. And she...gave me a box of delicious
cookies the next day.)


Mistakes, I have now concluded, are not to be feared, but
by using an open mind can be the most formidable
of teachers.

A mistake by definition happens but once,
it isn't planned it's made by mere chance. 

Sometimes we make mistakes that can have bad
ramifications and cause others pain.

Sometimes others make mistakes that can have
bad ramifications and cause us pain.

Sometimes we make mistakes that we don't 
know how to correct.

Sometimes others make mistakes that
they don't know how to correct.
But.
Sometimes we make mistakes that
opens our eyes and expands our minds.
That soften our hearts and of kindness
us reminds.

''Mistakes are a fact of life.
It is the response to error that counts.''
(Nikki Giovanni)


about the images: top: background/screen, acrylic on canvas
Graphite drawing of Teddy's, layered in Elements

Mickey: Acrylic on large canvas

Tuesday, 11 February 2025

Music is a relationship thing............


-Come on, play the bass, he said.
-What??? I don't know how to, I answered.
-Well, you have to because my fingers are bleeding.
Come, I'll show you, he said and dragged me up
on the stage.
If I had been sober, I would have just refused, alas, 
I was not and so, suddenly I was on stage holding
a double bass. (Upright bass)
-You pluck the strings with your right hand and
make the notes with your left. Here, let me show
you.
I knew the names of the strings so when he showed
me where I could find a 'C' and how to place my
fingers around the neck of the bass, I said to myself:
''Just wing it."
Tentatively I tried a scale and I quickly realized
that I too would have bleeding fingers by the
end of the next set.
Honestly, when the drummer and pianist got up
on the stage and yelled out the key of the song
we were gonna play I just nodded and turned down 
the volume on the amp.
One hour later I had a huge blood blister on my
''plucking finger'' but fortunately for me, the gig was over.
Well, the gig was over but my love affair with playing
the bass had just begun.
I decided that I had to get a double bass and learn 
how to play it properly.
One of the teachers at the conservatorium that I
was attending told me that I could use his upright
bass until I could buy one.
I gratefully took him up on the offer and started
to take bass lessons.
This meant not only plucking strings but also learning
how to use a bow. Which proved to be very difficult
and made a heck of horrible sound. 
But I loved playing the bass and it helped me
to understand harmony on a much deeper level.
Where ever I went I dragged the full sized 1860s 
Russian bass with me. Which was not an easy thing as
I did not have a car and had to catch busses and
the Metro everywhere.
 I mean, the bass was much taller and bigger
then I was so it was definitely a chore.

Slowly my playing progressed and although I had
blood blisters on most of my fingers, I learnt how to
deal with them so that I could keep practicing the instrument.
When you play upright bass you're sort of caressing it
and the vibrations and sound in its big body reverberates
all through yours. You feel it as well as play it.
My last year in the conservatorium however, my piano 
and flute(transverse not recorder)teacher told me that
I had to make a choice between playing the bass or
the piano and flute because the blood blisters were
not compatible with the other instruments.

On my last day at the conservatorium,
 I handed the bass back to its owner.

Many years later in a land ''downunder'',
 I played an upright once again.
But not a lovely full sized Russian,
but a key on a keyboard,
named upright bass,
digital and lifeless,
clumsy no grace.


"Whether we press a key, 
pluck a string, hit a skin or
breathe air in to an opening,
playing an instrument is a deeply
personal and intimate thing."
(Citizen Z)
 


about the image: ''The Bass player''
texters on large paper  

Tuesday, 28 January 2025

Stop crying with your fists!.......on coping strategies


 The minute he opened the door the smell of stale cheap wine and 
cigarettes flooded all his senses.
Though the house was silent, echoes of loud and hostile
voices rose up within him threatening to bring him to
his knees.
-Deep breaths, deep breaths, he whispered to himself.
After a few minutes of doing some deep breathing he felt his
tense body starting to relax. He hung his jacket on the
hook in the hallway, slung his backpack over the shoulder
 and then entered the ''battlefield''.
-To others this may be the living room, but to me,
this is the battlefield, he thought to himself.
In the corner of the room, hanging over the edge of
 the couch with a pool of vomit on the floor in front of her,
laid his drunken mother.
His heart sunk. Like hundreds of times before.
And like hundreds of times before, his was the job to
clean her up and get her into bed.
Like a well trained nurse he lifted his mother off
the couch and carefully carried her to the bedroom 
and put her in her bed.
The room was in a mess. There were empty wine
 caskets, beer bottles and old greasy and moldy
pizza cartons strewn all over the floor.
He let out a heavy sigh.
Though he knew it was pointless he couldn't
stop himself from whispering ; why mom?
He pulled a blanket over his mother, opened a
window and then closed the door behind him.

Walking through the hallway to the kitchen,
he noticed that the walls had a lot of new holes
in them.
-Still crying with her fists I see, he
said to himself.
As he stepped into the kitchen he was taken aback
 by the stench of rotting food and dirty dishes
and the floor was covered in broken glass and
smashed plates.
Standing there, in the middle of his mother's chaos,
he had a sudden urge to just run.
Run as far away as he could and never come back.
But he didn't, because he still had memories of a
time when his home used to be neat and tidy
and his mother, ... happy.

-Oh, dad, why did you leave, why couldn't you
have helped her?
His mother had always had anger issues but when she
was sober, she seemed to be able to keep her anger under 
control. But, then, when his sister died, everything changed.
Gone was the caring, warm mother he knew. 
While he and his father sobbed, cried and grieved the loss 
of his sister,
his mother buried her feelings. 
She pushed them so 
deep inside of herself that she could no longer
reach them. 
Well, apparently all feelings except for anger and rage
which fueled by alcohol had seemingly
become her way of dealing with her profound
 sense of sadness and loss.

*

Facing difficulties(of varying kinds) most of
us (whether we are aware of it or not), learn to
handle/manage them with the help of our
coping mechanisms/strategies.
There are different ways of defining what a
coping strategy/coping mechanism is, but
my personal definition is this:
It's our ''go-to'' thinking and behavioral method/strategy
that we use when we are faced with internal/emotional
and or external/physical issues.
As far as I can ascertain, our coping strategies often
fall broadly into one of two categories; 
healthy and unhealthy.
Unhealthy as in: it prevents rather than helps us
to resolve issues, it puts our health in danger,
it makes us do things we would never do otherwise,
it hurts other people, and rather than improving our
lives, it makes them worse.
Healthy as in: it helps us to deal with and resolve
difficult issues, it is life-affirming and guides our 
behaviours to fit with our ethics and morals,
it helps us to care about and for others,
and sticking to them, improves our lives.

Some examples of the most common ''bad'' coping strategies
are: substance abuse, denial, avoidance, 
self-harm and negative self-talk(''you're no good, 
you're useless, nobody cares anyway'').
Some examples of common ''good'' coping strategies:
dealing with rather than avoiding difficult issues,
sharing our difficult issues/emotions with someone rather
than suppressing or ignoring them, staying true to
our guiding values and ethics and being open
to view our difficulties and issues from
many perspectives.

When faced with a difficult issue/problem,
perhaps first ask yourself: in the long run,
what I am planning to do about this,
will it make things better or worse?

''Problems are not the problem,
coping is the problem.''
(Virginia Satir)


About the image: graphite on paper

(For those of you who may be wondering where I've
been for the last few weeks....... I've been experiencing
really painful back issues and so not been able to 
write posts as per usual.)