By Courtney Fathom Sell
Preface:
Tuesday, July 28th – 3:21 am
Sleepless nights since going cold turkey from all substances I have been addicted to for the past ten years or more. This is day three, and the cold sweats and shakes have nearly crippled me. I find myself weeping for no reason and feel completely useless and creatively blank. I love everyone else except for myself. I think this is how it is supposed to be. At least for now.
Substance abuse has been a large part of my life. I have never considered it a dark or negative thing, since I have created some of my best work while under the influence. Perhaps drugs and alcohol have helped me channel a more creative side. Yet, as we all know, they can become extremely self-destructive which is the reason I finally decided to stop and get clean. Plus, a few friends encouraged me that it may be a great chance to see the world from a new perspective. I decided to go cold turkey simply because I am stubborn and feel that I can do it myself. We’ll see.
I tell you all this before my most recent essay because I believe it is all connected. When I first wrote this piece and sent it off to be published, I was, as well as my Editor, filled with hesitation. It is extremely raw, brutally honest and deals with darker elements such as suicidal thoughts that may not be appropriate for such a publication. However, after nearly two months of consideration, I realized that it deals with elements of life that many artists struggle with but may be too afraid or hesitant to speak of. I am passionate about my work which is most likely the reason this piece was developed. I hope you can read it for the positive ideas held within and understand that even the most dramatic claims, such as experiencing suicidal thoughts, are something I, and many others have dealt with all their life.
Hopefully, in my new — clear state of mind, my ideas of “retirement” will vanish. Yet, as of now, they still stand strong. As far as this piece goes, I sincerely hope it may bring some form of hope and encouragement to others dealing with similar ideas. – CFS
Losing Hope… (written on iPhone – May 12th, 2014):
I don’t want to make films anymore. Making films has made me mentally unstable, addicted to drugs, alcohol, destroyed relationships and has at some points even made me physically ill. Most of all, I, at least at the moment hate films in general. Maybe I even hate my own films at this point. Can one actually stop loving their own children?
I can’t for the life of me begin to realize why I began this journey in the first place. Living paycheck after paycheck has giving me sleepless nights and traveling the country aimlessly has worn out hundreds of shoes and perhaps my soul or (soles) as well.
I’ve lost confidence, stability and have missed so many important family affairs that I now see myself as a bad son. I hate to schmooze or small talk, so have no real reason to deal with film festivals anymore — that is, if they’d ever accept my work. I’ve already publicly denounced most of them anyways so why would they? So as I sit here jotting this essay down on my iPhone at the bar, I find myself wondering if I’ll ever find the love and inspiration I once had to make films again. The bar is dark in the bright afternoon which may be a metaphor for something.
Over the past few months I have been torn down by an ex lover and collaborator. We crashed and burned out. If one didn’t jump ship, we both would’ve ended up at the bottom of the ocean. I chose to jump without a life raft. By doing so, not only did I lose my lover but my artistic collaborator as well. I don’t know what’s worse. I brought it upon myself to end it. She has since claimed my work as her own though it is both ours. I don’t care about these bitter allegations anymore and have no more strength to fight back so will just throw in the towel and give them up. Hopefully they will make her happier than I did. Poor sap, huh? What a sad, sad song you must be thinking. Yet, even by surrendering my films, this couldn’t be the sole reason I want to quit making films forever. There has to be much more to these feelings and not simply defeat.
For nearly half of my life I have documented some of the most important and devastating moments one can live through. Or at least I can live through. The death of my father, the aftermath of Katrina, and so much more. These have no doubt taken a toll on my mental health. I can’t sleep without substances of various sorts to help me. Yet strangely enough, I found using my camera as a form of therapy. My subjects did too. So with that, I can’t completely decide if blending my work with my life would be a factor in my decision to retire as a filmmaker. Though this idea, more than anything else I can think of in this drunken stupor seems to make the most sense.
Each one of my films marks a new stage in my life. My loves, friends, numerous housing situations, fights and travels are all documented in my collection of films. Like a sun faded scrapbook found in a dusty thrift store shelf. Perhaps I should have an emotional yard sale and sell these moments for something that finally makes me happy. I would kill myself now but know my poor mother would be devastated and I don’t have the balls to go through with it anyways so I guess I’ll have to go find another way to cope once I piss this liquor out of my system. Interestingly enough, I find the idea of suicide to be extremely inspiring while working on a film. I’ve walked a tight line between life and death many times while making films, and the thought of being able to off myself and burn the footage gave me more control than I ever imagined one could have while directing. Perhaps suicidal thoughts are the reason I want to quit making films. They take their toll during those lonely nights. I want to live a stable, happy, pleasant life but can’t because of my films. How does every other filmmaker do it? I guess being an abuser of various substances doesn’t help. If only filmmaking was just a hobby. I’m an intense, raw personality so there is no possible way that I could take my passion lightly.
I fall in and out of love easily. With taste, style and most unfortunately, with people. I hold grudges. I can turn my back and walk away forever if one bothers me. I can choose not to care though I hope to believe I have a heart. I love animals, so I think that qualifies for having a heart. Right? I think about revenge a lot which may or may not be a huge factor in my more abrasive work. Piss off the people who piss me off is an attitude I’ve lived with all my life. Maybe the fact that I’ve held such a strong vengeful mindset, I’ve finally imploded and everything I’ve set out to destroy is coming back to haunt me. Like ghosts dancing on MY grave. How ironic. I’ll leave town like a criminal on the run. Leave it all behind. Sometimes I even prefer getting myself off instead of having sex because I like to be alone and can dream instead of doing. I’m obviously a narcissist too. I once read a line from a filmmaker who I looked up to as a kid that said something along the lines of “if you lose your sex drive, you’ve lost your ambition.” It makes sense, but my sex drive is in overdrive these days so what the fuck is happening here? I’m so confused. Maybe I’m trying to replace the meaning of my life with a stupid vice.
So do all these things combined create some form of a pattern or tapestry that would cause me to drop my passion and walk away like I’ve done in my personal life so many times? Sorry. My inner Carrie Bradshaw of the morbid underground just shined through.
Before my father passed, and while I was editing his film, he told me that I didn’t belong in film school. I was too anxious. I was too full of daydreams that if someone tried to teach at me, I wouldn’t be listening. I had to go find it myself. When I dropped out of school in order to travel, this idea never occurred to me. I’ve declined a “normal” life in order to continue my filmmaking “career” whether anyone sees these movies or not. It was an unconscious decision. Quotations on both words above because they both seem odd to me.
With all that said and done, I still haven’t figured out why I now, after all these years, after all these life experiences and after all these dreams and nightmares come true, I want to stop making films. The fact is, that I was put on this earth to do it. Film is my life. Like I hate myself, I hate films too, so I guess it all makes sense. Hopefully I will find inspiration again and can overcome this feeling of pointlessness. This fucking void in my life. Hopefully I will finally find a film, old or new, that changes my perspective on this whole fucking thing. When I discover it, I’m sure I’ll let you know. But at the moment, the statement “A new film from Courtney Fathom Sell coming soon” seems rather distant. Thank God for you and thank God for me.
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