What is worse than a tormented artist?

What is worse than a tormented artist?

Well, to be simply tormented.

...

I've come to realize a long time ago, that I've developed this psychological mechanism whereby to ease the impact of my seasonal depression on my daily life, I'd focus its manifestation on something else - usually something and sometimes someone that is dear to me.  I'd aim hate, annoyance, rejection and some dark destructive fantasies on these objects or people, even as I go along humming normally through my daily routines.

I'm aware of this mechanism, and I allow it to play out, because it does allow me to function through such bouts of momentary unreasonableness.  Besides, what damage can thoughts do, especially if you are aware that is is purely hypothetical and therapeutic?

But as of late, I've found myself seemingly unencumbered by such bouts.  It's like noticing you haven't gotten your credit card bills for the month, even though you'd love not to receive them at all.

Something is not right here.  There is something I still have to resolve but have not identified yet.

Then, I remembered this ongoing avoidance I've been acting out with regards these unfinished canvasses I have.  In introspect, this game of avoidance has been hurting me quite well - a bit like a sort of self imposed punishment. It is exactly what I'd do to cope with my seasonal bouts, but I am not aware of it.

If I'm not mistaken, the reason I haven't felt depressed as of late is because I'm already stuck in a perpetual cycle of feeling depressed and coping which feeds each other so well that they perpetuate themselves.

I need to snap out of this comfortable spiral into perdition.  I need to paint.  Even if it's worth shit, I need to paint it out of the canvas.