I’m sorry I catfished you all on Facebook. I left my last skinny picture as my profile for far too long. How did I end up at Fairhaven in Tennessee for my eating disorder? I was first at Pasadena Villa, not starving myself to lose weight, but to die. Sometimes my ED was about weight, but that death wish was the final straw. I was in the mountains in Severville, Tennessee. Pasadena Villa was in a renovated ski resort. I could see the mountains from my bedroom. I had a queen-sized bed. That’s where I was starving myself. I wanted to wake up from my coma, which I wasn’t in. I left my room for the first time in days to get a Gatorade. I passed out at the workers’ desk. They couldn’t take care of me anymore. I needed special attention. They put me inpatient while they decided what to do with me. What did they do? Why, they sent me to Memphis on a bus in the middle of the night. I got there in the morning and couldn’t find my people from Fairhaven. I searched for them, singing Walking in Memphis by Mark Cohn. Once they found me and I got there, my fellow residents thought I was strange. I was pretending to have multiple personalities. Good thing I had friends in my head. I laid on a hammock, writing the story the voices told me they were there to give me. It was surreal. They defended me from my evil voice. I bonded with them. Then my Fairhaven psychiatrist diagnosed me with schizoaffective, which is schizophrenia combined with bipolar disorder. I got foggy one day, and a voice said, “Shit! It’s the meds!”
The voices went on to attack me. They always do that. The voices are here to turn on you.
After that, I turned to the other women. One did my makeup and I never felt more beautiful.
Most of the works for my first gallery show are renditions of just a handful of my voices. The idea came to me in two different ways. My kid sister at an old group home always drew her voices. I’ve learned that everybody should. Also, my old high school teacher always advised us to draw what we see, not what we think we see. Yes, I know what they look like. I can’t draw what I see. I mean hallucinations. Nobody wants to see Robin Williams hanging. Oh! You didn’t know Schizophrenics see and hear scary stuff?!? Well. They do. I saw Pennywise in the sky with a knife at Pasadena Villa. The vision took up the whole sky. Over the years, I met a few people who see IT.
Why the hell aren’t we trying harder to help schizophrenics more? People are living in their own personal horror novel.
When my voices turned on me at Fairhaven, I was obviously upset. After that, it was just my evil voice and angels and an occasional celebrity. I had to learn over and over again that there are no good voices. I will never paint the evil voice. I don’t want to honor her.
I can’t write the same way anymore the way I did with Hey, Joey Journal. I think it’s an effect from getting hit by a train on purpose, or maybe I just know what I actually love. Art. Thank God I have art. It doesn’t turn its back on me, even if I occasionally turn my back on it.
What’s next for me? A fat self-portrait. A woman with less voices. More beautiful than ever. I’d love that.
This piece is 22 in by 18 in. It’s currently on display at the Carnelian Gallery until September 27th. It’s available for purchase on the Arts for All Wisconsin webpage under Zelda Bean.
https://arts-for-all-wi.square.site/shop/zelda-bean/CZA4XFAFXCAOYUNXSXIWU5WI