My Experience With Severe Depression

I asked my uncle, a very good artist, if he could teach me to draw or paint. He told me he would think about it, and until today 7 years after he is still thinking. So I did what any person of my age would do, use Internet. I must have taken every single draw tutorial that can be found on Google. I knew to get home at noon after school, do my homework and immediately paint the rest of the day. Friday, Saturday and Sundays I didn’t got out of my room. I practiced so much there were times I lost control of my hand and break pencils. I practice anatomy, faces, hair, mythological creatures. I used to save my money and buy every month an issue of the art magazine DibujArteS3 and follow their tutorials as good as I could manage. I asked people about my draws in the school as well and that helped me a lot. Because of the ladder of popularity school seldom enforce I was not very liked so I knew each opinion given by the people in my classroom was honest. I received a lot of criticism: good criticism, bad criticism, hurtful criticism and even cruel heartless criticism. More that a thousand of people, both on Internet and in life, told me to give up when I was just starting and I just keep practicing, harder with every

It was my freshman year of high school when I took Drawing A; I quickly learned that I had a skill that I had previously ignored and began embracing it. Sophomore year, though, was when I truly started using my art. It was during this year that I received a 4 on my AP-Studio Art portfolio, and won four awards at Scholastic Art and Writing in photography. Art gave me a feeling of accomplishment that I didn’t usually get in the rest of my academics, so I always tried my

I’m sitting at my computer, ignoring pages of economics homework and mugs of cold tea now strewn about my desk, as I search for a direction to go with my life. Such was was my predicament several months ago. It’s undeniable that I’m an artist, hard and true, for a pencil found its way into my hand as a child, and no desire of mine nor of the universe ever tempted it to pry away. Throughout my earliest years and memories, I maneuvered with graphite, paint, and crayon every adventure that I ever dreamt of pursuing. Oh, I was a resilient child, as well, who refused to take part in any art class at school or as an extracurricular for an abundance of years, as I was invariably convinced that I could learn all I wished on my own accord! Consequently,

I would read books that would encourage me to draw. My parents would always make me read as a child, which helped me increase my knowledge and ideas that opened my mind. I would then use my art to express my knowledge and ideas I had learned from reading. As my childhood years passed and I enter middle school, my attitude went towards a much more deviant direction. I was the class clown, and would always get into trouble with my middle school crew. Which wasn’t beneficial for me. I was no longer into reading or writing. My perspective on school changed, as did my grades, and my attitude towards school. My perspective on school didn’t change, until I was a freshman in high

On October 29, 1929 an invention that so many people’s lives and saving crashed. The stock market. William Foshay never expected it to take effect when he created such a reality, but with this crash, it ruined lives. People were homeless. Foodless. Moneyless. Jobless. With such troubled times, it certainly did bring out the best and the worst in people. There aren't as many people to tell their stories anymore. But we can tell them from remembrance of them. Here’s a story of people who did obtain the best and the worst lives, and everyone in betwixt.

Let’s first define what psychology and applied psychology means and how it is applied. Psychology is the

When I first started drawing, people knew that I would be an amazing artist one day. But, on the inside I was a 16 year old who had a dark past. I was bullied and abused and I was broken and the only way to escape it was through drawing. On the outside I’m a very bubbly person,but on the inside I’m a scared girl who needed help.

1. No matter how hard we try to prepare ourselves for challenging experiences and try to stay positive, it becomes harder to do than planned when the time comes. It was the end of the last semester and I was on the verge of emotional depression that totally overwhelmed me. During the exam period, I wasted my weekends on the Internet, chatting and Facebook-ing. I needed to submit an important paper on Tuesday morning. On Sunday night, after wasting so much time of mine and having a little red eyes because of so much exposure to electronic screens, I sat down to write my paper. Only then did I realize that the paper was due the next morning, not on Tuesday. I was extremely nervous because it was too little a time to finish it. Moreover, I was so angry with myself that I wanted to cry. It was a realization that I was off course in my study habits and that I had not overcome my habit of willingly putting myself in difficult positions. The more I thought about being in that mess, the angrier I got with myself. I got even angrier thinking about how it was not the first time in my life that I put myself in such a situation. I could not concentrate on my paper because of that emotional response. Then suddenly I thought that I just needed to talk to someone and calm down. I called my classmate and just told her about everything. She said that the instructor had actually extended the deadline until Thursday. It was such a relief. I thanked her profusely and decided

My life began on May 27th, 1998. I was born at Winthrop Hospital and have lived in the same house in Hicksville, New York my entire life. My little sister, Julia, was born when I was four years old and my brother, Aidan, was born when I was eight. I went to nursery and pre-school at St. Stevens and I spent Kindergarten through Eighth grade at Holy Family School. From Kindergarten until Eighth grade I was also on Holy Family’s track team. Despite this I did hate it, I only remained on the team because my dad was the coach. I did horseback riding and girl scouts up until about fifth or sixth grade. I had been interesting in art since I was very young, but I did not become serious about the passion until sixth grade. I loved drawing

When I transferred from UNCG I had overcome a very difficult emotional (what). I began to use my personal struggles to create these drawings of women who were dealing with internal struggles and whenever I drew I felt my mind release tension, a feeling of relaxation and freedom I could not get from anything else. Deciding to become an art therapist was one of the best decisions I have had. The idea of allowing all sorts of people with diverse backgrounds, emotional struggles or just pure imagination to express every bit of themselves in any medium gives me pure bliss. Intuitively I believe that everyone has a yearning to express how they feel and if I can help someone along their journey of self-discovery I'd be honored. I believe that God gave me the ability to use my hands to create transcendence in myself. Starting at a young age art was my backbone and strength, I was amazed daily with the pieces

Art has been my passion since childhood. Spending three years within the teaching environment was where I thought I belonged. Before receiving my Bachelor of Fine Art in painting from Metropolitan State University of Denver a personal experience that connects to my reservation and adoption into the Clinical Mental Health program was one of tragic loss. On January 9, 2002, my son’s life abruptly ended and during the grieving process I started expressing myself through painting. In searching for serenity, individual counseling became enhance. Finding a therapist with a background in marriage and family/art therapy became a visual depiction, a self-portrait symbolizing my external realities and internal emotions immediately following his suicide. Driven to face an extremely irritating and stressful paradox to the best of my ability while trying to keep the constitutional need to endure my life as fully as possible.

My passion behind wanting to become an Art Therapist for troubled adolescents, stems from my own personal trials and tribulations that I had as a child growing up. I was in and out of juvenile detention centers, foster homes, Boys and Girls Aid Society, and even a home/program for troubled teenage girls, that lasted an entire year. In the midst of all of the chaos, I was assigned an Art Therapist. Having been the rebellious teenager that I was, I was not exactly fond of the idea. However, after a few sessions with my art therapist, I came to admire her, and the way that she was attempting to work with me through my troubles, anxieties, and fears. It wasn’t in the same fashion I had falsely created in my mind. Instead, she had me communicate

I think that I have an excellent balance of academic and artistic skills. Since 7th grade, I have taken an art class. This class creates a soothing break from my academic classes that improves my inventiveness. I try to express my creative side through my art work. Through several art projects, I get to expand and explore my artistic ability. Art, to me, is a form of communication. It communicates my thoughts and imagination in ways school, grades, and scores cannot. It is a complex matter and is not easy to fully clarify. Furthermore, outside of art class, I use my creativity for art projects in other classes. I try to incorporate it into a majority of my classes. Additionally, I have an interest in art that is demonstrated through extracurricular

This paper introduces a 35-year-old female who is exhibiting signs of sadness, lack of interest in daily activities and suicidal tendencies. She has no interest in hobbies, which have been very important to her in the past. Her lack of ambition and her suicidal tendencies are causing great concern for her family members. She is also exhibiting signs of hypersomnia, which will put her in dangerous situations if left untreated. The family has great concern about her leaving the hospital at this time, fearing that she may be a danger to herself. A treatment plan and ethical considerations will be discussed.

I was always awkward sexually, I don’t mean awkward in the sense of performing coitus but rather everything else. During sex I rather enjoy myself as any young man would, but before the act and after It where the awkwardness kicks In, Is where I find myself loathing the world and the person I am about to, or have recently just fucked. Usually young men enjoy the chase and thrill of courting. My best friend prefers this to sex itself, he believes that “It is a canvas in which only the best artists are capable of painting on”. In some ways Intend to agree with him and then reality kicks in and I remember that people are disgusting creatures, before, during (especially during) and after sex.