Depression, superstition, and trying to be in control of your life
Two times in a row means it’s a pattern. I was four months away from opening Subjective the first time they had to cut me open to excise the disease. Three years later, I was—again—just months away from a big show of new work when my body ended up on the endometriosis chopping block for the second time. Maybe that’s why it’s taken me over four years to start another new series.
I am not a superstitious person. I work at purging my life of unfounded beliefs and the magically-minded actions that those beliefs can inspire. There are just a handful of irrational things I’ll do to bring luck, and only one that I am very attached to.
It’s from a story I read as a child. Before leaving my home to go traveling by plane, I kiss all four walls of my living room. It feels ridiculous to write it out this way, for other people to read. We can pretend that doing so is a step in helping me dismantle this particular bit of hooey, but the truth is that I know I’ll be pressing my face against the walls again the next time I leave for an extended trip. It’s the only way I can be sure I’ll make it home again.
I’m not a superstitious person, but, right about now, I’m ready to kiss the four walls of my uterus. Illness is good at taking away a person’s center, forcing them to see that they don’t control their lives. It’s not a feeling I love—especially now as the pressure is on to get the work done—but it’s weirdly fitting.
My new series is about things we don’t control, about how we shape ourselves to fit into society’s expectations for us. Who might we be if we weren’t so social? Would I be X if it weren’t for your Y?