Up and Down, and Up again

Oh, the ups and downs.

The blues. The dumps. Whatever it is.

I'm fighting them. Big time.

It's sort of crazy - the emotional state of my creative soul. Up and down . . . feels like one heck of a roller coaster. Am I an artist? Can I do this? Can I make it? What is "making it"? How long can I keep this up? When will I be able to contribute regularly to our family? Will I ever be able to? Is it time to get back to work? Like . . . the kind real work that I used to do?

Oh, I feel like I'm on one heck of a roller coaster these days.

Up and down . . . and up again.

I remember . . . way back when . . . that I used to come to my blog when I found myself in this state of mind. Write it out. The cheapest and most effective form of therapy for me. So, here I am. Putting it out there. Do with it what you will, Universe. Because, like all that I've said before . . . it's me. And it's real.

Yes, I've found myself questioning what I am doing, why I am doing it, and wondering how long I'm going to keep on doing it. I've been working like crazy on art and products and creative goodies this year, then find myself doubting if anyone is going to want it, any way. I have had two craft shows . . . and did so well at one, that I thought I was going to burst at the seams with excitement. Then I come home and realize - not one successful craft show does a successful artist make.

I've created paintings, doubted anyone would purchase them, had someone buy them, cried with bliss after selling them that someone actually bought them, then prayed they wouldn't take them home and regret their purchase.

Crazy, isn't it?

Yep. Up and down, I tell you.

In the midst of this . . . Phil asked me to go back to work.

Not the kind of work where I can sit with painted hands and make fun holiday ornaments. We're talking about the kind of work that will require me to wake up and actually do my hair and make up, and wear clothing that is not covered with spots of dried Mod Podge. (For the record, I think clothing not covered in Mod Podge is just plain boring.) The kind of work with a 'real' desk, and not a kitchen table. The kind of work that will actually bring in a stable and regular pay check to our household. The kind of work that I used to do . . . those many moons ago . . . when I hid my creative soul. Like . . . insurance work. Blah.

And . . . I don't want to.

I want to kick and scream like a toddler who is not getting the lollipop they so desperately desire. I want to fall to the ground and throw my arms in the air and yell, "NO! I WILL NOT DO IT!!" I want to tell him that . . . I'm almost there. I'm almost able to make it in this artistic life I've dreamt of. Don't take it away now. Yes, it's been a while. Yes, I get that. Yes, I need to contribute and do more for our family. Yes, I'm saying all of those things to myself every second of the day.

But I don't want to give it up yet.

It's a crazy struggle, this state I am in.

And it's not just this recent conversation with my beloved that has me in that struggle. I've been struggling with it the past few weeks - all on my own. Three weeks ago, I found myself feeling it . . . alone. Alone in these thoughts of questioning where I was going in life. Alone in my fears. Alone in my doubts. And that day . . . the strangest thing happened.

I had stopped at Hobby Lobby to pick up some glittery paper for some projects. While looking at some holiday stickers, a pad of paper fell to the ground just feet away from me. There was not a soul around, and I caught myself looking up and down the isle to see what prompted the drop. No one was nearby. Not a one. I walked over to the pad of paper (which was like one of those memo pads with a magnet on the back - a pad that you would stick on your refrigerator) and picked it up. Printed on the top of the paper was this:

Be still . . . and know that God is near.

I stood looking at this paper for the longest time. It was as quiet as could be in the store, and there wasn't a soul around. With no explanation as to why this particular pad of paper fell to the ground next to me, I read the words over and over.

Be Still . . . and know that God is near.

Boy . . . did I need Him.

That very day. I needed Him, bad.

Just then, an employee of Hobby Lobby was walking past. I held out the pad of paper and said, "this is so strange . . . look. This pad of paper just fell off the hook. No one is around here. Isn't that weird?"

She looked at the paper and said, "Well, sometimes the plastic holder on the back of the pad will lose it's adhesive and the pad might fall."

With that, she turned the memo pad over. But right there, where it was supposed to be, was the plastic holder intact. We both tugged on it and it was secure and was not loose at all.

"Hmmmm . . . , " she said, as she turned it over to read the writing on the front, "looks like someone wanted to get your attention."

When I got home that day, I received an email from a nearby Park District, asking me about teaching Mixed Media Art Lessons for their community. A different Park District from the one I've been working with so far.

Be Still . . . and know that God is near.

I don't know what the answer is.

But I know that I don't want to give up.

I don't know if I can do it all.

But when I think about my life, I feel like I'm almost there . . . living a creative life.

I feel like there is more I am meant to do in this chapter . . . and might not be ready to start the next one yet.

Be Still . . . and know that God is near.

 

And while I don't know what it all means, I do know that I am not alone.

 

Thanks for letting me write this out today, friends. Trust me when I tell you that I am just fine. I am finding my way in life - like all of us are. And I know that where ever I go, I'll be doing it with my faith, with my family and friends, and with love.

 

Wishing you Peace.

xo