Sorry for disappearing this week! I've been crazy busy with music and theater rehearsals, but I just need to get through the next nine days, and then everything will be better.
(No it won't. Then it will be the solstice, and then xmas, and I'm going to be trying to finish up gifts and doing more baking than I have time for. It will not be better.)
Wednesday night I was feeling a bit overwhelmed—for the past couple of months, I've been working nearly nonstop on design work and drafting my novel, and once you add in my day job at the library, dance classes, and music and theater rehearsals, it's been a lot. It's all things I enjoy doing, but they have all been weighing me down as well.
So I painted.
I used to be a pretty serious painter, and it's something I love doing, and it felt so good to do something just for me. No pressure, no expectations, no deadlines, just doing something because I wanted to do it.
Friends, it felt so good. I haven't painted in ages, and it turns out that I missed it desperately. It's been so long since I took an hour to do something that just makes me happy, with no other expectations.
I really hope that I can hold onto this feeling and remember to make time for painting more regularly. I keep getting swept up in the feeling that I need to constantly be producing work—that if I'm not knitting a sample or polishing a poem or knocking out five thousand words on my novel—and if I'm not, I'm somehow not enough. Which is bullshit, and I know it, but it makes it difficult to say "I'm taking this weekend to just do things I like to do, with no pressure," and I need to remember that taking that time is important and healthy.