Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Where Does the Time go?



Good grief!  I miss this blog and my followers.  I'm not sure what happened, but the things I must do in a small amount of time have increased exponentially for me.  I'm barely keeping my head above water.  I don't even understand what has changed.

The J-O-B has worn me way down, but that doesn't exactly explain why I feel constantly out of time.  I can't find time to paint or write.  I work, head to the gym, come home, walk the dogs, eat while watching one TV program, bathe, and go to bed.

This is not the life I wanted.

What happened to painting all night?  What happened to the stillness of the late night/early morning at 3 AM and standing outside enjoying it on a painting break?

What happened to not even knowing what time it was?

I feel I'm on that treadmill I always heard so much about as a kid and I have no idea how to get off without killing myself trying to do so.

It's killing me anyway.  I had so many damn tests this summer.  Needles, proding, cameras down my throat, chunks of me taken off, blood stolen, internal pictures of almost everything and you know what the conclusion was?

STRESS.  IBS do to STRESS.  The beginnings of CHRONIC STRESS.  Anxiety.  Fatigue.  Migraines.  Muscle binding.  Lowered Metabolism due to sitting.  Higher Body Fat Index due to sitting.  Depression.

I wish there was a doctor's note for that.  It's not that I don't want to work.  I do!   Just not in a very open, public, noisy, sensory overloading, political and social game-playing department at a University from 8 am to 5 pm or later that has nothing to do with Art.

A nice quiet studio.  Start around 2 PM and don't stop until you drop.  Work all night into the next day.

Creating.  Not sitting and causing my muscle fascia to bind, my hip flexors to start displacing themselves and my ass to grow three times its normal size.

The amount of cortisol in my body is poisoning me.

This last weekend, I turned 40.

I'm hoping this is a turning point.

Jack Kirby didn't create the awesome Superheroes he did until he was 44.

Many greats didn't start until much later.  They had to get fed up and walk away from the machine first.

I'm done.  I just have no idea how to leave.  How to pay for my house.  Feed my pups.

I'm so tired...and I have no time to hone my skills.

Well, this is my new year.  My new decade.  I'm done NOT being an artist.

Wish me luck.




2 comments:

Idyll Wild said...

You can do this!
Sooner rather than later, ok? If nothing more than finding a job that isn't so crazy and stressful and political and overwhelming. You're a wonderful artist and lots of people believe in you.

Turayis said...

Yes! Exactly what Idyll Wild said! Don't give up, you've got what it takes to do this, to change things. Nothing is more important than your happiness (including health and sanity)! J-O-Bs are a dime a dozen and not one of them is worth giving up yourself for. Your soul is your guiding compass. Listen to it, and follow your heart, because that is all that matters in this life. We all believe in you, and I always have your back 100%.