Virginia Woolf.
Note to my dear readers: Look at me! Taking steps to reclaim myself and my sanity! Still though, if anyone has any tips on how to fit art and writing into a day jam packed with a toddler who won't let me near a computer, please share!!! Sometimes she and I take photos together, we also color. Lots of coloring. Also, I'm pretty tired and I feel like some of these sentences aren't as fluid as I'd like. Apologies in advance. Sentence fluency has always been a thing for me. Word feng shui. Right now I don't got it.
And so, here we go with the post...
The last month or so I've been reminding myself that I'm the type that oozes creativity. Whether or not my creative endeavors are any good is irrelevant. But as a human, my particular brain needs outlets. When the creativity and urge to produce dries up, things are bad.
I'm actively pondering art and writing now. Things are looking up and my brain is slowly picking up speed for the better. It's a gigantic freight train that has been at a complete stop for a while. It has restarted for the time being, but as it's a huge freight train, getting back up to speed is very slow business. I'd very much like to wake up one morning soon and see that I'm back at full speed. But I have to also be okay with that might not happening. I have to also be okay with waking up one morning to see that I'm at a full stop.
Looking back through my journal it's 100% obvious that I have a mood disorder with serious ups and downs. Coming to terms with that has been one of the most difficult things I've ever had to do. As much as I have to be okay with being bipolar, I have to be okay with the fact that I might never be 100% okay with it.
My goal is to accept myself on my good days and the bad.
I'm rambling. My point is that it's really fucking difficult and at this point I'm still pretty sure that at some point, probably in a few decades, I will have had enough of it.
In the last couple of years my body has been exhausted, which takes a toll on my brain. When Violet finally gets tucked into her bed with her soft blankie and giant caterpillar to snuggle, then pulling her "big girl blanket" up to her chin, I have nothing left in my gas tank. I'm running on fumes. Not a single part of me feels motivated to write or draw or edit photos.
And so, here we go with the post...
The last month or so I've been reminding myself that I'm the type that oozes creativity. Whether or not my creative endeavors are any good is irrelevant. But as a human, my particular brain needs outlets. When the creativity and urge to produce dries up, things are bad.
I'm actively pondering art and writing now. Things are looking up and my brain is slowly picking up speed for the better. It's a gigantic freight train that has been at a complete stop for a while. It has restarted for the time being, but as it's a huge freight train, getting back up to speed is very slow business. I'd very much like to wake up one morning soon and see that I'm back at full speed. But I have to also be okay with that might not happening. I have to also be okay with waking up one morning to see that I'm at a full stop.
Looking back through my journal it's 100% obvious that I have a mood disorder with serious ups and downs. Coming to terms with that has been one of the most difficult things I've ever had to do. As much as I have to be okay with being bipolar, I have to be okay with the fact that I might never be 100% okay with it.
My goal is to accept myself on my good days and the bad.
I'm rambling. My point is that it's really fucking difficult and at this point I'm still pretty sure that at some point, probably in a few decades, I will have had enough of it.
In the last couple of years my body has been exhausted, which takes a toll on my brain. When Violet finally gets tucked into her bed with her soft blankie and giant caterpillar to snuggle, then pulling her "big girl blanket" up to her chin, I have nothing left in my gas tank. I'm running on fumes. Not a single part of me feels motivated to write or draw or edit photos.