Painting & Fighting

I'm painting. I've been painting. It's been difficult.  I've lost much of my motor memory. I've forgotten how to see clearly. I get tired more quickly.  I'm not 25 anymore.  I'm not even 39. 
     Resistance is an interesting thing.  It takes many forms. I regret nothing though.  Getting out of the machine saved my life.  Finding my rhythm has required more patience than I had estimated.
    This is real.  I am doing art. All day if I want. It's amazing. Also, terrifying.  I was so used to being efficient & scheduled.  Art is neither.  Being professional is. Being a freelance artist requires a balance of the two.
      I'm still falling down now & then, but I'm getting back up every time.   I get scared sometimes.  Scared that I've lost some intangable thing I had before I entered the machine.  Scared that something broke inside of me. I know that just resistance lying to me.
     I've met some goals. I've had to reassess some things.  I have to keep telling myself that art is a real job.  I just have to keep moving forward.  I sleep too much. It's part of the resistance.   That and I was really, really, really tired. It's 3:38 am. I'm painting. Tomorrow I will paint again.
     Art is a real job.