Well, I've had quite the hell ride the last 2 years, yes, it's been 2 years!
The good part of that is I'm feeling better and better to the point of being able to paint again. Even though in this game of hot potato (where I'm the potato) I feel pretty good about life. I attribute that to being honest in my experiences. When I'm angry, I'm angry, when I'm sad I'm sad, when I'm happy, I'm happy. Pretty simple stuff. We are born knowing this but as adults we learn to repress our immediate instincts and emotions.
I think as artists we train in being true to ourselves as much as we train in the physical realm of creating. Creating comes within yourself and can be a hard, deep place to reach.
I had a poetry professor once who egged, poked and prodded us to go to the dark recesses of the mind. To her this was the only way to be a great poet. She would even shut the lights out and had a plastic goose lamp for a moody effect. I was a little weirded out by that class. It was in a small community college where I guess they could get away with such things. I ended up doing the cover for the poetry book we pumped out. I guess even then I was destined for the visual arts.
Artistically and stereotypically speaking, artists are supposed to be in a constant state of angst. Angst is good stuff. I don't really dwell in those places because I don't see the point of hurting all the time. Sure there's a lot to hurt about. I just love enjoying life and what it has to offer. I love having an idea in my head, plotting on how to execute it and completing it.
I love the artistic angst, which for me is feeling my pains and processing them into visual form. I suppose it's a way of taking control and letting it go. I leave it there on the canvas.
It leaves me a lot of mental space for everything else.