Art!
Before I took the job with abusive narcissist boss, then the soul-crushing call center job after that debacle, I was so happy making and selling my art. I never really made money at it and was living off the retirement savings I cashed out.
I was painting and making jewelry all week and mi head was in the best place it had been in a while. I had found a partner that is consistently supportive and nurturing instead of alternating between confrontation, gaslighting, and lovebombing me when I worked up the nerve to leave him.
Not to dis my one year relationship. It was sweet, but I was still traumatized and had not done enough self-work to have a healthy engagement. He was right to break up and I'm glad he's still my friend. I was half mad at the time.
That summer that I sold my art at the street market every Sunday after creating and making all week was the longest stretch I've ever had of 100% getting to do juat what I wanted to do all day everyday. I loved it. I loved the marketing. I loved my online store. I loved my artist community and friends I made. People were seeing me at my best and happiest.
When I was offered a job doing customer support from home for $55k/yr, I took it. It was November and I was doing the Holiday craft shows since summer market season was over. My retirement money had all been tapped out. If you followed me then, you'll remember how pumped I was. I had felt rescued from financial uncertainty.
Then the boss started to emotionally abuse me and I was fired for having boundaries that wiuld have prevented further abuse. I was a mess that summer. Not only was my job torture, my best friend and emotional support, my heart. The keeper of my calm, Ruby, was in the avian hospital on the brink of death. I was already at my most vulnerable when that predator swooped in for the big attack.
Then I worked at the call center. I don't want to talk about that now because it's triggering.
Since my experience with the abusive narc boss, I had not really done anything artistic. I have to admit there was a bit of " We're all going to die of Covid, wildfire smoke, and other climate related tragedies. What's the point of making baubles?
The point is it makes me happy at a viceral level.
Also, lookit what I made with black goldstone.
I mean, there were the stickers. But beads have always been my happy place.
I like to just run my fingers through them and see what I scoop up. I imagine colors and textures together in patterns. I have enough art supplies to have a shop worth of jewelry.
I think for now I am self-soothing because I'm anxious about the survery and radiation. It feels right to be making things again.