Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts

Friday, December 20, 2019

Turning 31

It's crazy to think I've already lived through the first year of my 30s! It was an eventful year, too - trying to get pregnant, and then *being* pregnant. One of my goals this year was to practice resilience (despite whatever challenges I might face) regarding my dream of becoming a mother, and to remain hopeful and make decisions based on those hopes (and not my fears or anxieties) - and I'm happy to say both that I achieved that goal, and that it turned out to be easier than I worried it might be. Thankfully, I faced most of my challenges when I was 29, and the universe gave me a bit of a break when I was 30. :)

I made non-pregnancy goals for myself as well, to try to ensure that I accomplished things I could be proud of, even if getting pregnant didn't pan out. I submitted my artwork to local exhibitions and created lots of new art (more on all that in a coming post). I read 60 books and watched 60 movies, TV series, or theater productions (more on all that in another coming post, too). I also continued to prioritize my mental health, answering "positive thinking" questions every day to remind myself what I'm looking forward to, what I have to be thankful for, and what matters to me most.

Naturally, I've made some goals for this coming year too - the year I'm 31. Some of the goals are much less (reading 20 books instead of 60, for instance), to try to account for all my time that will be taken up by taking care of my new baby and figuring out my transition to motherhood. Others represent a temporary shift in priorities from one of my passions to the other. This past year I really prioritized working on artwork, so that I would have plenty of recent drawings and watercolors to market, sell, make notecards of, and submit to local exhibitions, even if I didn't have time to create much more in 2020. Next year, my goal is to focus more on my writing instead, returning to various novels I've been writing on and off for the past several years. (I'm hoping it might be easier to sneak in pockets of writing or editing here and there between feedings and diaper changes and playing with my new baby, than it might be to settle down with some paints or colored pencils to produce even a small sized piece of artwork.)

I'm so excited to turn 31 - with a new baby due basically any day now, and one of my lifelong dreams therefore on the cusp of coming true, I just know 31 is going to be my best year yet. :)

Monday, November 12, 2018

"Still Life Spices" Colored Pencil Drawing

This blog is always about a month (or more) behind "real time." It takes time for me to finish a piece of artwork, photograph it, upload those photos to my computer, add watermarks, upload them to this blog, and write about them. I also tend to schedule posts a couple to a few weeks in advance, so I always know that there's something going up on the blog soon. All of this is to say - though this post is going live in mid-November, I wrote and edited this content in late October, and created the drawing itself even earlier.

September and October were slow art months for me this year. I had grand plans to create several 5"x7" sized drawings with holiday themes, which I would then scan, resize, and print on notecards in time to give to my local community art center (Paint Creek in Rochester, MI) for their 2018 holiday market. Items for the holiday market are due by late October; my art schedule then had these drawings planned for completion in September. But then I got pregnant. And had a miscarriage. And I'll be honest - for several weeks in August, September, and October, I was not in the mood to work on anything creative, let alone festive holiday-themed drawings that were looking forward to the future.

Some people find art therapeutic, but I'm not usually one of those people. (Instead, I often use writing as my therapy-of-choice.) To me, creating art is more a point of pride, a way to produce nice things for other people, and a way to try to make some extra money. I would love to allow myself to experiment more and also create art just for myself, or just for fun - but my time is limited and more often than not I focus on art that I can share, market, and sell. The standards are high, then - it can't just be a hot mess, it has to be well-executed. And when I am depressed, when I'm grieving, when I'm lacking self-confidence, it's really hard to believe I should or can create good artwork. I had the time, but I procrastinated. I had no motivation.

I finally produced one small, simple colored pencil drawing - one of the several designs I had originally planned. I started it sometime in September and finished it in early October. I didn't particularly like the way it turned out (no surprise, really, as my heart wasn't in making it), and I didn't move forward with my plans to make any others. Maybe next year will finally be the year I make a "variety pack" set of holiday notecards; in any case, it is not going to be 2018.

The 5"x7" drawing features two glass mugs of apple cider, complete with cinnamon sticks and apple slices, surrounded by a few red berries, apple slices, and a twine-wrapped bundle of more cinnamon sticks in a make-believe still life arrangement. The atmosphere is undefined, with no clear tabletop or any perspective lines and a few bokeh-style circles in the upper right reminiscent of holiday lights or glitter. I used Prismacolor pencils on toned tan Strathmore paper.











I did at least make holiday cards out of my "White Poinsettia" drawing from a couple years ago - so if you're looking for holiday cards, don't worry, I still got you covered. :) They're available now in packs of ten at the aforementioned PCCA holiday market in downtown Rochester, MI, and will also be featured in my next blog post.

Friday, July 27, 2018

Entitlement

I recently took the time to compile a list of things I'm entitled to - just by virtue of being human - because I thought it would be constructive for me to consciously remind myself of my self-worth and create a list I could refer back to again and again. 

In the past, I have often found it easier to accept that others deserve these things - if anyone else tried to argue that they didn't, I would protest; and yet when I heard the same self-deprecating arguments from myself, I accepted them without question. But I'm trying to make an effort to treat myself just as kindly as I treat others, so if there was something I believed that others deserved, I made sure to include it on my list - because if they deserved it, then so must I.

Some of the things are specific to personal struggles, worded in such a way to target the things I have the most difficulty believing I deserve. Others are more vague and could apply to many different areas of someone's life. Many of them I borrowed verbatim from similar lists I found on the internet, while others were slightly or greatly reworded to better fit my needs. A few I came up with all on my own.

Still, even though this list is somewhat tailored to my own life, this is not just a list of things I deserve, but a list of things everyone deserves. As such, I thought I would share it publicly in case anyone else could also use the reminder.  

These are NOT things that are earned. Whether we're old or young; whether we're rich or poor; whether we're male or female or non-binary; whether we're in a relationship with one person or many people, with someone of a different gender or the same gender, or in no relationship whatsoever; whether or not we score high on tests or accomplish arbitrary goals; whether or not we're able-bodied or traditionally attractive; whether or not we ascribe to a certain religion, or any religion at all - we don't have to do anything or be anything to deserve the unalienable rights I have listed below. 

I am entitled:
  • To exist.
  • To be shown the same level of kindness and respect that I show others.
  • To form my own opinions.
  • To share my opinions.
  • To not share my opinions.
  • To choose what I share with other people.
  • To value my privacy.
  • To select the people I want to spend time with.
  • To avoid the people I don't want to spend time with.
  • To cleanse my life of people who don't show me the respect and kindness I deserve.
  • To have the amount of connection with my friends and family that is healthy and positive for me.
  • To change my opinion about someone, or change how I interact with them, depending on what I need or want, or what I can handle, at any given time.
  • To extricate myself from situations that make me uncomfortable.
  • To refuse to do things I don't want to do or go places I don't want to go.
  • To choose whether or not to forgive someone.
  • To desire things.
  • To need things.
  • To consume things.
  • To appreciate things.
  • To dislike things.
  • To put my needs and desires first.
  • To own property and have my property respected by others.
  • To allow myself or my possessions to take up physical space in the world - whether at home, in a public place, at my desk at work, in my car on the road, while traveling, etc.
  • To drive as I want to drive (in accordance with driving laws).
  • To live where I want to live.
  • To take up verbal space in the world.
  • To speak up if I want to speak up.
  • To join a conversation happening near me - or to choose not to join a conversation happening near me.
  • To start a conversation.
  • To seek out and find people eager to listen to what I have to say.
  • To seek out and find people who try to understand me.
  • To take up space on social media.
  • To post what I want to on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, etc. without worrying that I might be offending or annoying others with the content or frequency of my posts.
  • To write what I want to write - in novels, short stories, poems, blog posts, etc. - without worrying that I might make other people uncomfortable, upset, angry, or hurt.
  • To eat what I want to eat.
  • To turn down offered food - with or without explanation.
  • To change my diet requirements/allowances as I see fit.
  • To weigh what I weigh.
  • To wear what I want to wear.
  • To decorate my body as I see fit (including jewelry, hair color/style, tattoos, etc.)
  • To use the bathroom when I need to.
  • To listen to my body's needs.
  • To enjoy and celebrate my body.
  • To find myself attractive.
  • To find others attractive.
  • To enjoy sex.
  • To have the sex life I want to have (within consensual relationships).
  • To decide when and how many children to have, and to have this decision respected.
  • To raise my children as I want to raise them.
  • To try new things.
  • To not try new things.
  • To make mistakes.
  • To figure out my own preferences.
  • To make my own choices.
  • To alter my personal priorities whenever I want.
  • To pursue or accept opportunities that I want.
  • To turn down opportunities I don't want.
  • To not feel pressured or coerced.
  • To request adequate time to make an important decision.
  • To accept compliments or gifts that others give me, without feeling like I don't deserve them or that I owe them a compliment or gift in return.
  • To feel happy.
  • To be hopeful or optimistic.
  • To feel upset.
  • To cry, or to keep crying, or to stop crying, or to not cry at all.
  • To tell others how I really feel.
  • To not tell others how I really feel.
  • To demonstrate emotion without worrying how my emotions might impact others.
  • To do things or feel things without justifying my actions or emotions (to myself or to others). 
  • To spend time alone.
  • To spend time with people who care about me.
  • To receive care and understanding when I'm going through a difficult time.
  • To ask for help.
  • To set my own goals and pursue them as doggedly or lazily as I want.
  • To evaluate, revaluate, and change my goals as I see fit.
  • To be recognized and respected for my efforts.
  • To be fairly compensated for my hard work.
  • To define myself as I want to define myself.
  • To be my own person.
  • To practice self-care, in whatever way I need to at the time.
  • To forgive myself.
  • To be kind to myself.
  • To be proud of myself.
  • To love myself.
  • To love every part of myself.
  • To allow myself to shine.
***

Some of these points I feel require a bit of explanation, to stave off possible arguments for why they shouldn't be included - for example, "I am entitled to feel happy." This doesn't mean that I expect to always be happy - I'm realistic enough to understand that deserving happiness doesn't guarantee I will actually get it. What I mean when I say "I deserve happiness" is that I am allowed to feel happy. I can be happy without feeling guilty or undeserving. And I am allowed to pursue happiness, too - to want to be happy.

The statement "I am entitled to cry, or to keep crying, or to stop crying, or to not cry at all" has similar connotations. I'm saying that I'm allowed to cry, or not cry. I don't have to try to police my feelings or feel guilty for feeling them (or not feeling them). It is not up to anybody else to tell me what I'm allowed to feel, or how I'm allowed to express how I feel. Of course, this doesn't mean that those around me who witness me crying will be comfortable with my display, or that they will support me, and this doesn't mean that I will never face negative consequences for displaying my emotions. I can hope that I will be met with care and understanding more often than not, but I can't guarantee that that will always be the outcome. 

Some of these are things I am in complete control of - being kind to myself, loving myself, making my own choices - and I have no excuse for not ensuring that I achieve those things but the roadblocks I construct for myself. But other points - spending time with people who care about me, having my property and my person respected by others, receiving care and understanding when I'm going through a difficult time - necessarily rely on other people to cooperate with my goals, and to value myself as I am striving to do. Other people will not always be able to fulfill this role for me - and though I'm trying to prioritize generating self-worth, I'm not always able to give myself the things I'm in control over, either.

Just because I am listing out such things as things I deserve, then, doesn't mean that I actually expect to get them 100% of the time. This world is not a fair one, and everybody will not be able to get all of the things they want, let alone the things they need. But there is still value in reminding myself that I deserve these things, even if I don't expect to always get them - because reminding myself that I deserve them encourages me to seek out better relationships and environments if the ones I have are not adequately supporting me, and reminds me not to blame myself when bad things happen in my life, worrying that I deserve what I get.

As for the points about sharing or not sharing my opinions, expressing myself as I want to, and having the opportunity available to me to not offer explanations about my feelings, behaviors, or choices - believing that I'm entitled to do or not do those things as I see fit does not mean I expect no one to comment on them. People have eyes and are allowed to notice or be curious about my choices. They're allowed to take up their own verbal space (just as I am) and voice their contradictory opinions, cast judgments, or try to start a debate with me. But they aren't entitled to anything I don't want to share with them, and if I choose to keep explanations to myself or to not engage with them in conversation, I am entitled to make that choice. People are allowed to ask me questions. But they aren't entitled to hear the answer they want, the answer that is "socially acceptable" or even any answer at all, if I don't want to give one.

The same goes for me. "I am entitled to receiving care and understanding when I'm going through a difficult time" does not mean "I am entitled to receiving care and understanding from this specific person." People can make their own choices about how they interact with me, just as I can make my own choices about how to interact with them. But if I don't like the interaction, and it is not a positive in my life, I am allowed to abandon it. I am allowed to seek out other people who will give me what I need. And others are allowed to get frustrated with me, if my interactions with them are not what they are looking for; they are allowed to look elsewhere for the solutions they need or the answers they want to hear.

People are allowed to form their own opinions about me. I can't control what others think. However, I do not have to listen to someone's negative opinions about me if I don't want to. I can choose whose opinions I agree with or give merit to. I can choose what sort of people I let into my life.

I often care too much about other's opinions, trying to cater to everyone else's emotions or preferences over my own. Even when I can't know how someone really feels, or what someone prefers, I try to guess and cater to what I think they want. This bad habit is what I am trying to combat with the bullet points of taking up physical space in the world, verbal space (speaking up), and space on social media, as well as my statement about being entitled to drive how I want to drive, or use the bathroom when I need to. 

I am allowed to take up physical space - with my body, with my car on the road, and with my property. I am also allowed to speak up and say what I want to say, without worrying what others might think of me. Sometimes I convince myself not to share, even if I secretly want to, because it feels presumptuous to assume that others will want to hear what I have to say. I especially curb what I say or write if I'm worried that it might offend someone. On social media, I worry that if I post a lot, it would be annoying - and I don't want to be annoying. But I am entitled to share what I want to share - both in content and frequency, both in social media and in person. People can decide for themselves if they want to pay attention or engage with what I'm sharing; it is just as presumptuous of me to make that decision for them by choosing not to share something when I want to.

As for driving - I have in the past found myself caring too much about what other drivers on the road might think of me or want me to do. I sometimes feel pressured to drive or turn faster than I want to, just from the presence of a car behind me. They don't have to be tailgating me, they just have to be there. I imagine that they might want to drive faster, or that they are growing impatient with me waiting for an opening to turn, and so I change my behaviors to act more like how I think they want me to act. I even feel bad sometimes if I have a green light at an intersection where several other cars are stopped at a red light; I feel that they deserve a green light more than I do. These bad habits and negative thought patterns - the constant worry of "but what do others want me to do right now?" - are what I'm addressing when I assert "I am entitled to drive how I want to drive." I'm not saying I'm above driving laws and that I can drive however I want; I am saying only that I am entitled to make the little decisions that we all make every time we drive with my own preferences in mind, rather than trying to cater to what I think other's preferences might be. I am allowed to slow down to make a turn, or to wait for the opening that I want before turning or changing lanes. I am allowed to pass someone, or to not pass someone, as I want to. My car is allowed to take up physical space on the road - I don't need to feel guilty going through a green light, just because there are others who want their light to be green right now but don't have one. I am allowed to be there; I am allowed to drive.

I have also been known to worry about what others might think of me if I use the bathroom "too often." I once read a piece (probably on the internet somewhere, but I can't find it now) about how men listen to their body's needs more than women do - if they need to pee, they go to the bathroom; if they're hungry, they get some food and eat; if they're thirsty, they drink some water. It doesn't occur to them to wonder if they might be "allowed" to, or what others might think of them if they do - but even if they did wonder, it wouldn't matter. If their body needs something, they will go for it, because having their needs met is more important than what judgments anyone else might make. 

Now, I'm sure that's a gross generalization - some men will struggle to prioritize their body's needs and instead put other's opinions (or perceived opinions) first. But I do believe, from personal experience if nothing else, that women are probably more likely to fall into this trap. I've seen women refuse to grab themselves a snack even while their stomachs are audibly growling, unless or until they are absolutely sure that they're "allowed" to, that they won't be spoiling their appetites for future meals that might be planned, and that their food eating won't offend anyone who might witness it; when they do finally give in and go into the kitchen, they ask if anyone else wants anything as well. (I am often one of those women myself.) Meanwhile, I've seen men make themselves a snack when someone is in the middle of preparing them dinner - not once stopping to worry if the food preparer might be offended by his apparent impatience, and without asking around to see if anyone else might also be hungry. 

I'm not against the idea of being aware of my surroundings, taking a moment to see if what I'm about to do is appropriate, or trying to anticipate what others might need - but I definitely tend to overdo all of those things, to the point where I deny myself what I need if I think there's even a chance that I might offend or annoy someone, or draw "unwarranted" attention to myself. Yet, I am an adult, I am a human, I am alive. I have needs that have to be met, and if I don't prioritize them, who else will? If I'm hungry, I am allowed to eat. And if I need to use the bathroom, I am entitled to use the bathroom.  

I am allowed to care for myself. I am also allowed to accept help from others. I do not have to feel unworthy if someone does something nice for me. That was their choice, their prerogative. I don't have to feel bad, guilty, or undeserving of unexpected nice gestures, gifts, or compliments - or even just common decency and respect. What's more, I don't owe anything in return to those who choose to give them to me. Other people get to decide what they want (even if that decision is doing something genuinely nice to me), and I get to decide what I want (even if that is rejecting their kindness, or accepting their kindness but rejecting them). I don't owe anybody anything, for any reason.

***

None of those bullet points should be items of contention. No one should have a problem with anyone, regardless of how that person looks or what they do or what family they come from, standing up and saying any one of those points - aloud and assertively. 

But there are people who have a problem with it. 

There are people who insist that only some feelings are valid and that others are unacceptable or inappropriate, especially when demonstrated by specific groups (e.g. masculine men).

There are people who insist on being in charge of other's decisions - people who get bent out of shape when someone deigns to voice an opinion different than theirs, or make choices different than the choices they want the person to make.

There are people who insist that their discomfort seeing something they don't want to see (e.g. a man acting effeminately, or two women getting married, or a breastfeeding mother, or a young person dying their hair blue, or a large person wearing form-fitting fashion) is more important than anyone else's discomfort in not getting to make the choices they want to make for their lives. 

There are people who insist that when a man takes a woman out on a date, she owes him certain favors in return. 

There are people who insist that only some are entitled to fair compensation for their work - and others are not worth even a living wage.

There are people who insist that some people are more entitled to use the bathroom - or at least, certain bathrooms - than others, and people who insist that entire races of people should be denied working public water fountains just because of the color of their skin.

There are people who insist that only those with the money to afford it should be granted the "privilege" of living in the city they want to live in, or receiving medical care during times of physical need, or being allowed to eat when they are hungry. 

There are people who would read my list and snort at me derisively, calling my entire generation "entitled" - as if "entitled" were a bad word. 

As if that list of reminders I've created for myself in an effort to convince myself of their certainty is a pandemic that needs to be cured. 

As if these meager assertions of self-worth have always lived easily and selfishly in my soul, and were not hard-won through years of journaling and contemplation and therapy and internal debate.

As if I need to be reminded instead that I am NOT entitled - that I am less-than, that I am nothing. 

To those people, I reassert: I am entitled. It is not an insult. I'm entitled to life and liberty and the pursuit of happiness - same as everyone else.

People who disagree with that assertion tend to agree with the first part of that sentence - "I'm entitled to life and liberty and the pursuit of happiness" - as it applies to them. It is the expanding of entitlements to other people that they have a problem with. They think certain groups of people are different than people like them - and entitlements like the ones I listed do not belong to them all.

They do. These entitlements belong to everyone. And these entitlements belong to me.

Thursday, June 7, 2018

Novel(s) Update

I recently came to the conclusion that I was trying to cram too many stories into a single novel/series of novels. I was intertwining different stories together (each with different voices/narrators), thinking that because they had some of the same themes, they should work together - but really it just became confusing for any potential readers to follow, and each part started taking away from the other parts, rather than building off each other and making each other better.

Further, I decided that the reason I was doing that (the reason I OFTEN do something like that when attempting to write novels) is because I don't feel, for whatever reason, like I am allowed to tell the story I really want to tell. I doubt my abilities as a writer, or I worry that the story will be unmarketable, or I worry that the story's subject matter will offend people - in short, I worry too much what other people might think. In an attempt to still write, but somehow soften the writing, I therefore BURY my writing - underneath other layers of writing. I posit that a story that reads not good enough or not professionally polished could be more easily forgiven if it was framed within the context of someone writing the story, and so I bury the story I am less sure about within a larger story of an author's life. Or I use too much vague symbolism or too many extended metaphors to make potentially abrasive content easier to swallow (for me to write, or for others to read), and then try to pair it with another story with less symbolism to mirror that story and help explain it. None of that is necessary to do - nor particularly helpful, or original, or easy for someone to read and enjoy - but I do it because I feel like it would be presumptuous of me to assume people might care to read my writing. I make my stories discoverable only to those who are willing to put in the effort to prove they want to hear what I have to say, the archeologists who are eager and capable of unearthing the fossils I've hidden in the dirt. I do this because I feel like I am not allowed to let my words shine on their own. It's a habit likely born from low self-esteem and a penchant for making myself suffer. But it's also a habit I'm trying to break.

What I am in the process of doing, then, is splitting up the story I was writing into two separate narratives. I am also changing the structures and timelines of these stories a bit, to make them work better as standalone stories. For each, I am figuring out what the real story I want to tell is - and then I am trying to find the courage within myself to sit down and tell it, without burying it and watering everything down.

Right now I'm not quite working on them simultaneously - I'm working on one and then the other - but that may change once I have new outlines and plans drawn up for both. One story is well outlined and already at least 1/3 complete, based on what I had already written; the other is going through more drastic structural changes, and I'm still working out the exact details of how it's going to look. But once I have all those ideas in place, I could foresee it being relatively easy to go back and forth between the stories, working on them nearly concurrently, if I wanted to. We'll see how I feel.

In any case, even though it's a lot of work to rethink and rework my novel(s), I do think it will make for better writing, when all is said and done. And hopefully I'll be able to continue this process as I write, stopping to ask myself every once in awhile if I'm "doing it again" - burying my words under other words and not letting them shine.

Wednesday, December 20, 2017

Turning 29 / Goals for 2018

I tend to get very self-reflective on my birthday, thinking back on the previous year and making goals for what I want to accomplish in the following year. I suspect I would do this regardless of when my birthday fell (that's just the kind of person I am), but it's perhaps especially heightened by having a birthday that falls in December, amidst all the "End of Year" news articles, blog posts, and TV specials that reflect on 2017, and the advertisements that encourage new resolutions to be made for 2018.

One of the most memorable parts of the year were the vacations my husband I took - visiting Harry Potter world in Orlando in February, and seeing old friends in Boston in June for a friend's wedding. For next year, we don't have any concrete plans yet, but we do have some ideas we've been tossing around - including going to New York City for a few days. I've never been, and it's always been on my bucket list. I love seeing live theater, I love visiting art museums, and I like doing stereotypical touristy stuff, too. I've been to some of Western Europe's biggest cities (Paris twice, Rome twice, Venice twice, Florence twice, Naples once, Barcelona once), but I've never made it (yet) to NYC! I think it's high time that's remedied. ;)

This past year I've tried to make strides towards self-care. That includes watching my diet and keeping track of my glucose as per my treatment plan for my diabetes (Type LADA - read more here), but also working on myself emotionally/mentally - learning how to recognize negative thought spirals/self abuse, and figuring out how to appreciate myself instead. These are things I want to continue prioritizing when I'm 29, and I've made some concrete step-by-step plans for how to carry out these goals - techniques I can try, things to be aware of, and lists of important reminders I need to make it a habit to refer back to.

In the last year, I've also focused a lot on my art - especially colored pencil drawings, which I was completing in time to exhibit at the "GRRRLS Like Us" show at the Village Theater in Canton, MI. My artistic goals for 2018 are not as singular in focus, because I don't (yet) have a specific exhibition I'm preparing for. Instead, my goals are to do a little of everything - some acrylic paintings, some watercolors, and some colored pencil drawings - focusing perhaps more on acrylic and watercolor, just to balance out all the colored pencil I did this year. I never got back to all those ideas I had for square 12"x12" acrylic paintings, and I want to revisit those in the coming year.

One thing that definitely fell by the wayside in 2017 was my writing. I've been working on writing a series of novels on and off for a few years now, and with all the art I was doing in 2017, my writing took the back-burner. I haven't even touched any of it in months. Part of that is also because I've been writing other things - lots of personal journal entries and things for myself, as part of my self-care techniques mentioned above - and there's only so much time/energy I have to devote to writing. But I do want to get back into my fiction writing as well.

As usual, I have plenty of ideas of things I'd like to do - and not enough time in the day to do them all. I've never had a problem coming up with ideas. What I really need is a way to come up with more time to see all my ideas through.

I'm pretty happy with how my life is going right now, and I remain optimistic about the future. I'm looking forward to being 29 years old and making the most of the last year of my 20s. I'm also looking forward to 2018 - the year I turn 30. There are two sealed envelopes in my desk drawer that I am excited to open on my 30th birthday - a letter I wrote to my 30-year-old self when I was 23, and another letter I wrote to my 30-year-old self when I was about to turn 26. Now I'm only one year away from that 30 milestone. It's both hard to believe (time really does fly by!) and pretty exciting. :)

Saturday, September 23, 2017

Creativity and Mental Health

On a related topic to my current "Ability Bouquet" drawing (which includes differences in physical, emotional, and mental ability) is the correlation between creative people (painters, sculptors, musicians, performers, composers, fiction writers, poets) and mental health issues. As Lord Byron remarked about himself and his fellow poets, "We of the craft are all crazy. Some affected by gaiety, others by melancholy, but all are more or less touched."

This is a correlation that I've always found rather interesting - both on a personal note (as someone working in creative professions and with mental health issues running in her family) and on a broader scale - and is therefore a topic I've thought a lot about over the years. I even wrote a paper on this topic for an Art History class in college, listing famous 19th & 20th century artists who suffered (or probably suffered) from mental illnesses including depression, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, personality disorders, and substance abuse problems.

There are a lot of similar lists out there, linking famous (dead) people to probable mental disorders. For example, Kay Redfield Jamison's book, Touched with Fire: Manic-Depressive Illness and the Artistic Temperament - a fantastic book, by the way, and well worth the read if this is a subject you're interested in - includes in Appendix B a list of writers, artists and composers with probable cyclothymia (a form of mild bipolar), major depression, or manic-depressive illness. The famous names include writers F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway, William Blake, Edgar Allen Poe, Victor Hugo, Emily Dickinson, John Keats, Edna St. Vincent Millay, Sylvia Plath, Walt Whitman, Joseph Conrad, Ralph Waldo Emerson, William Faulkner, Mary Shelley, and Virginia Woolf; musicians Peter Tchaikovsky, Robert Schumann, and Irving Berlin; and artists Paul Gauguin, Vincent Van Gogh, Michelangelo, Edvard Munch, Georgia O'Keeffe, Jackson Pollock and Mark Rothko.

I find understanding people's psychology really fascinating, and it can be a fun (though not necessarily truthful) exercise to speculate on the inner turmoil of historical figures. I also find it interesting (and problematic) how eager our society is to latch onto this creativity-mental health correlation, to the point where we have this prevailing archetype of the crazy, boozy, moody, unstable artist. By putting so much weight on this correlation, we end up stereotyping, exaggerating, and misunderstanding it, to the detriment of living artists and contemporary sufferers of mental health issues. I want to clear up some of these misconceptions in this blog post.

First of all, it is important to remember that correlation does not imply causation. Having a mental illness does not make someone an artist - nor does being an artist necessarily give someone a mental illness.

It is possible that certain mental illnesses (especially mood disorders or substance abuse problems that include addiction to mood/mind altering substances) might inspire creative ideas or ideas with emotional resonance. But having thoughts or feelings and being able to turn those thoughts and feelings into a moving piece of art, music, theater, or writing is not the same thing. Thinking or feeling something does not always (nor often) translate into being able to work as a functioning artist.

For that matter, not everyone struggling with mental disorders wants to be an artist, and saying that there is or should be "a creative upside" to a manic episode, to seeing hallucinations, to overcoming pain, or to using mind-altering substances is a dangerous suggestion. It alienates or shames those who don't get anything "productive" out of these things, making them believe that they aren't processing or dealing with their emotional or mental health problems in an acceptable, affirming way.

It is also possible that trying to work as a professional artist - with the erratic hours, variable paycheck, and exposure to potentially dangerous art supplies (lead paints, fumes, aerosol sprays, sharp carving tools, exacto knives, etc) - might trigger or exacerbate an episode of a mental disorder in some people. But this type of work environment does not affect everyone in the same way, and usually when it comes to mental illnesses, nature and nurture work concurrently. Someone's environment alone won't cause mental illness - they also often have to have a genetic predisposition that makes mental health issues more likely to cause them problems.

What's more likely, then, is that instead of it being one OR the other, it's one AND the other. They each feed off each other in people who are both artistic and deal with mental health issues: their chosen profession will sometimes impact their mental health and their mental health with sometimes impact their professional life.

In addition, other outside factors might cause, inspire, or impact both. Maybe thinking creatively is a personality trait that both makes someone more likely to consider a career in the arts and to suffer from mental health issue; maybe genetic strengths in senses like vision, hearing, or touch (or in the parts of the brain that regulate those functions) make someone more likely to develop talents in visual, auditory, or tactile fields which are also creative, as well as making them predisposed to certain mental illnesses.

It has also been suggested that it is not actually true that more writers and artists suffer mental illness compared to the general population - just that they are perhaps more sensitive to their own mood states, and therefore more able or willing to articulate and report on them.

Science is still searching for the answers to these questions - and may never find them. Rarely is there just one cause; usually it is a whole plethora of possibilities, all working together - and yet also all working differently in each person.

The second important point I want to make is this: just because some artists suffer from very serious mental illnesses doesn't mean that all artists do - or should. It doesn't mean that a healthy, functional, well-adjusted artist is "less of an artist" for not struggling with inner demons. It also doesn't mean that mental illness makes someone a better artist.

In fact, the opposite is often true. Though periods of depression or mania might seem to give someone deep access to human emotions or spark artistic inspiration, an artist suffering from those mood disorders is often unable to actually function as an artist (that is, produce creatively) during those periods. It is only after they have somewhat recovered that they will have the motivation, focus, and ability to produce quality work or follow through on their projects to completion.

And yet we have this prevailing stereotype of the emotional artist, which romanticizes damaging and dysfunctional behaviors as something vital and required for anyone wishing to create serious art. As Jamison writes, "The assumption that within artistic circles madness, melancholy and suicide are somehow normal is prevalent, making it difficult at times to ferret out truth from expectation."

When people believe that their mental disorders are an integral part of who they are - the part that makes them special, gives them creative inspiration, or improves their work - they sometimes purposefully suffer them, even when other options are available. They might refuse treatment, deny medications, or choose to self-medicate instead (with harmful substances like alcohol or drugs), all in the spirit of retaining the core of their personality, being "true" to who they are, or tapping into a mythical artistic well of deep emotions/real creative inspiration.

Like any job, there will be times when it's easier or harder, when ideas come faster or slower, and when it seems like you've been waiting years for inspiration or recognition. But artists, writers, musicians, and performers are also sometimes expected to put themselves in dangerous positions or situations that others wouldn't, just for the sake of the story; suffer mental illnesses that others would not put up with, in an effort to carry the emotional weight of the world and see/understand universal truths about the human condition; or even purposefully self-harm with destructive behaviors in a misguided attempt to "become a true artist" - all expectations that are grossly unjust for anyone to endure. When it's such a prevelent idea in society, it's hard to shake - but the truth is, artists do not have to suffer for their art, and I resent the implication that they do.

Mental disorders are serious things. I personally know several people (most of whom are NOT artist-types) who suffer from depression, anxiety, OCD, bipolar disorder, and others; I see how it impacts their lives. It's not something to joke about, minimize, ignore, stigmatize, or fetishize. Suffering isn't romantic. It doesn't automatically make people stronger or more creative, and it doesn't open imaginative doors to them that would otherwise remain closed. People can find inspiration in a lot of places - their suffering included - but no one has to suffer to find inspiration. There are always other ways.

Sunday, December 18, 2016

Grieving Losses

One of the things I've been doing on and off over the last several months (whenever I have a block of time to reflect back on my childhood, or whenever I think of something quick to jot down) is keeping a list of "losses" that I've experienced.

I have come to realize that I have a lot of difficulty allowing myself to feel any emotions deeply, or even acknowledge what emotions I have about something, because I have fallen into the habit of ignoring/avoiding/repressing these things instead. It's a common coping mechanism to get through a difficult situation, but not something (most psychologists agree) that should be continued indefinitely. If you can't deal with something at the time, it's okay to set it aside for later - but eventually, that "later" has to happen. And this is my "later."

So I've been going through and typing up a list of life experiences, focusing especially on the negative ones I suspect I never fully allowed myself to feel/mourn at the time, or in the subsequent years. Instead of acknowledging them and allowing myself to figure out how that experience made me feel and what (if anything) can be made of it, I've just been ignoring them, not thinking about them, or thinking about them in a minimizing or mocking manner. ("Oh that wasn't a big deal. It's not worth thinking back on now." "Oh, everything is fine; it's always been fine." "Ha ha, look at this embarrassing thing that happened to me - wasn't that stupid? Wasn't I a klutz?")

The purpose of this exercise then, is to NOT minimize or mock. I write down everything I think of - even something that seems silly, or irrelevant, or insignificant, or childish. I allow myself to remember the event and acknowledge that it happened to me. I want to get into the habit of allowing myself to feel frustrated or upset or embarrassed or angry if I need to. I want to get into the habit of acknowledging emotions instead of hiding them or trying to immediately change them into a different emotion. They don't have to be big things. They just have to be true.

I call it "grieving losses" - though it's not always grief, and it's not always technically a loss. Often, though, it is. The loss of childhood, the loss of what could have been, the loss of a grandparent, the loss of friendships, etc. Growing up is full of losses. It's a normal part of growing up - but just because it's "normal" doesn't mean that it's not significant to my life, and an important part of who I've grown up to be.

The more I started writing them down, the more I realized I had. I also started to see patterns - things that happened to me over and over. I won't share all of them here because there are too many of them (there are almost 50 pages of them by now, typed, and I've only covered my life through high school, not counting anything from the last decade) and because many of them are very personal and not something I want to share. But I do want to share some of them, in case you're interested to see what this looks like. I recommend doing this yourself, reflecting back through your own life and seeing what losses you might have that you never allowed yourself to fully grieve. Everybody has losses - it doesn't mean you had a "bad" life, or a "bad" childhood. It just means you're human.

Anyway, here are some of my "losses":

  1. Medical/physical losses, including broken bones and illnesses that temporarily impeded my ability to do things I wanted to do. For example, in seventh grade I fractured my wrist and had to wear a cast. I wasn't allowed to play on my basketball team while my wrist was in a cast. I also fractured a bone on three other occasions - when I was three and I jumped off a chair and fractured my foot, when I was in 4th grade and fractured my shoulder from slipping on some ice, and in 9th grade, when I fractured the same shoulder. In 4th and 9th grade, I had to wear a sling on my left arm. Anytime I had a sling or cast, there was also a sense of embarrassment, where everyone would demand to know what had happened and I felt I had no choice but to laugh it off like it was no big deal. Before other kids could laugh at me for being a klutz, I "headed them off at the pass" and laughed at myself.
  2. My grandfather, who I was very close to, passed away from cancer when I was in 2nd grade. There were obviously a lot of losses associated with that - not just the physical loss of him being gone from my life, but the loss of what could have been, which I still feel on occasion. How different would my life have been if he'd been around for more of it? On top of this, I felt that I wasn't mourning the way I was supposed to - because I never really felt the urge to cry about Grandpa's death, even though I knew I was supposed to be upset about it - and so I felt ashamed at my inability to cry.
  3. I really wanted to go to school when I was younger, and begged my parents to let me go. I was not old enough to start Kindergarten by the state standards, so the public schools wouldn't let me register. My parents took me to several private schools to take their entrance tests to see if any of them would let me start, even though I was a year too young. I passed the tests easily (I could already read and write on my own), and I started going to school. This doesn't seem like a loss - I got to do exactly what I wanted to do! - but upon further reflection, I think this is one things (out of many) that contributed early on to my senses of not being good enough, or not being taken seriously. From a young age, I felt I had to prove myself - to prove that I was smart enough and advanced enough, to prove that I belonged where I thought I belonged. School was a privilege, something I had to earn. I knew I was ready for school, my parents knew I was ready for school - but I had to convince other adults (and the kids who were a year older than I was) that I was capable. Furthermore, it wasn't enough that I be an average student - I was trying to prove myself, so I had to be even better than all the other kids were, so people would stop questioning whether or not I should be in that class. This continued through a lot of years of schooling. I had this constant need to show that I not only belonged in my grade (whatever grade I was in at the time), but that I was one of the best students in that grade, regardless of age. I worried that people thought I was too young. Even when I was obviously advanced in reading or other academic subjects, there were concerns that I was not "socially mature" enough for the grade I was in. My 5th grade teacher wanted to hold me back from starting middle school, and have me repeat 5th grade - not because I wasn't academically ready for middle school, but just because of how young I was (and how young I acted). There are other examples, too. Even though I always somehow got around these age-suggestions (by going to a private school for a couple years, by having my parents agree with me that I could handle middle school and should not be held back, etc.), the fact that these concerns kept coming up affected me. There was always a voice in the back of my head wondering if maybe those adults were right - maybe I didn't belong, maybe I wasn't good enough. 
  4. I went to three different elementary schools - a private Christian school for K-1st grade, my local public school for 2nd-3rd grade, and a different public school for 4th-5th grade, to take advantage of their TAG (Talented and Gifted) program. Every time I changed schools, I had to leave old friends behind and learn how to make new friends. I learned to not take friendships or relationships for granted; I knew they were transient things that could easily be lost or altered by changes in circumstance.
  5. Similarly, having friends or neighbors I was close to move away, and losing friendships that way.
  6. Feeling that I didn't belong, in a variety of situations including church youth groups and cliques at school. This is something everyone struggles with to some extent, I know - but the commonality of it does not diminish how much it hurt at the time. For something so universal, growing up sure can be a lonely experience.
  7. Arguments with friends in middle school. In one case, this led to the loss of a friendship, which was never fully repaired. In another, it led my other friends to "force" the two of us to sign a peace treaty so that we would get along when we all hung out in groups. I understand where they were coming from (and if they wrote their own "grieving losses" lists, perhaps concerns over our prolonged argument would make the cut for stressful experiences in their own lives), but that does not negate the fact that I once again felt like I was not being taken seriously. The continued unity of our friend group was more important to them than validating my feelings, and I was talked into putting the argument behind me without any real resolution for it, simply because others wanted me to get over it.
  8. National tragedies, like the Columbine shooting and 9/11, both of which I became aware of and impacted me as a middle schooler.
  9. Having an appendectomy in seventh grade - which not only included the loss of a few days of school (including dress rehearsals for the play I was in), but also included another instance of me not being taken seriously. When I woke up in the middle of the night screaming and unable to move due to the pain in my stomach, the nurse that my mom called insisted that I was just experiencing my first ever bout of menstrual cramps, and that all I needed was a warm bath. When we went to the doctor's the next day, many doctors didn't believe that I could have appendicitis, because my descriptions of the pain I was experiencing were "too textbook" that they thought I had read a list of symptoms somewhere and was only reciting them, lying about what I was feeling in order to get out of school or something else I wanted to do (never mind that I never wanted to get out of school - I loved school!). Thankfully, they performed the surgery anyway, and I felt a lot better (physically) afterward.
  10. Several specific incidents of being teased (by family members, by adults, by other kids). I was especially attuned in middle school and high school to mean comments about my appearance or my weight, which I worried about (as many teenage girls do).
The list goes on, but for the sake of brevity, I'll end there. You get the idea.

By allowing myself (however belatedly) to recognize that these things were indeed losses of one sort or another, and by allowing myself to feel angry or upset about them, I am practicing changing my go-to habits. The hope is that, in the future, I will be less likely to let bad experiences, traumas, or even just the natural, small losses of growing up/being human simmer under the surface for years. I will acknowledge them as they come and allow myself to take the time necessary to 1) figure out what I am feeling about the event, and 2) actually feel that way.

It can be hard to be an adult if you are still stuck in your childhood - and you can't get "unstuck" from your childhood until you look back on it and figure out what things you've been carrying around all those years.

It's not a "quick fix" - just compiling the years of memories I've done so far has taken me months, completed in small pockets of time here and there when I have it - but I think it's something worth working on, which is why I've continued to add to it whenever I get the chance.



Tuesday, November 1, 2016

Novel Update

Last month, I (again) finished going through and editing my novel (or rather, the first book in an intended series of novels). That means my goals for the month of November include doing research on literary agents, sending out query letters, and starting to go through and edit my draft of book #2 in the same way I just went through and worked on book #1.

Of course, November is NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month), and with all the editing I've been doing lately I feel like I haven't done a lot of actual "writing." But there are definitely some things I want to add in to book #2, now that I know what changes made book #1 so much better - and some of those changes will feel more like "writing" than "editing." Plus, just working on book #2 instead of book #1 will be enough of a change of pace to keep me excited about this project.

It's not that I don't like editing. It's a certain kind of excitement to watch something you were already proud of get even better - and thus more proud-making. It's just that sometimes editing feels a little stagnant, and it can be hard to notice the "hey this is actually worth it" changes until you step back and look at it from a bit more distance.

So for this year's NaNoWriMo, I'll probably be doing more editing than writing. But what is editing other than "rewriting"? And shouldn't rewriting also count?

Tuesday, July 5, 2016

Manuscript Editing Update

If I haven't been posting much of my recent art projects lately... It's because I haven't been working on anything.

With the Scarab Club and the downtown Rochester Gallery Stroll - and my trying to finish my six acrylic paintings in time to display them at the latter - I was prioritizing my art for several weeks, at the expense of writing. Now that I'm working part-time as a graphic design, I don't always have the time I'd like to for both, and I have to pick and choose which I want to focus on any given week (though - to some extent, I was doing that already anyway, before I started the job).

Furthermore, my novel had been more or less "wrapped up" in its current draft, and I'd given it to my husband and a close friend to read and give me advice/comments on before I did the next round of editing. Said close friend had also been working on a novel of her own, and in return I was reading and helping her edit her manuscript. So not only was a prioritizing art for awhile, but I also had little writing of my own to work on.

Now, I'm finally finished reading my friend's story, and she and my husband have gotten back to me with lots of helpful advice for my novel. I've switched gears back to writing and editing for now; it is still one of my goals for 2016 to polish this up and find a literary agent to guide it to the road of publication.

That is not to say that I won't also be making art, or posting about art on here - just that it will probably be less often while I am really focusing on writing.

Saturday, April 9, 2016

Daily Blog Posts

So I mentioned this at the end of a blog post several days ago, but never really got into more detail. I started a new job a couple weeks ago, doing graphic design work for Temple Israel in West Bloomfield, the largest Reform Temple in North America. Four hours a day (9 am - 1 pm), I'm there working on flyers and brochures other marketing materials for upcoming events at the temple. :)

It doesn't seem like much time, but it adds up - especially when you consider the drive there and back (about 45 minutes in the morning and 35 minutes in the afternoon). I crate Ginny during that time (she's still at the "chewing everything out of boredom" stage; if she wasn't crated she would eat all of our furniture while I was gone) - so by the time I get home she's been crated for about 5.5 hours. She barely has room to stand and walk in a circle in her crate, so I try to get her exercise before I leave and after I come home. This means some playtime in the morning, and a walk in the afternoon, and a second walk in the evening. And even after her walk, she's still full of energy and excited to play, since she's been napping all morning.

Long story short, I have significantly less time to work on my story, or my artwork, or these blog posts. The best time to work on these projects are in the evenings, after dinner - but I don't have enough time in the evenings to do all of these things.

So I'm afraid this blog is going to have to fall off my list of biggest priorities. If I'm not working on my art or my story, I would have nothing to blog about anyway; my paintings and drawings and novel necessarily have to come first. I am hoping to still post an entry on here a couple times a week, and I will certainly continue posting a quick picture on Instagram (and sharing that pic to Twitter) every day. But I don't have time to also write a blog post every day any longer.

It takes a long time to 1) make the art I post, 2) take photos of the art, 3) adjust the photos and add my website information to the image, 4) upload the photos to this blog, and 5) write descriptions for the images. Furthermore, I don't have as many things I could post about, if I'm using time that I could be painting or drawing to instead write a blog post about painting and drawing.

My goal is to spend my evenings working on my art or novel, and then use the weekend to take any photos of the week's art and write and schedule a few blog posts for the following week. (I already schedule blog posts ahead of time, so this is nothing new. It's just that I will be writing fewer of them when I do.)

Maybe I'll find that I have more time than I think I do, once I figure out how to work with this schedule, but for now it's easier to not worry about daily blog posts. Please follow me on Instagram (@afrownfe) and/or Twitter (also @afrownfe) to see daily pictures. When I do post a blog entry, I'll try to remember to also put the link up on Twitter, so if you're following me there you should see notice of these blog posts, too.

Monday, February 29, 2016

Creative Legacy

I often feel like I'm part of (or trying to be a part of) a long-standing creative legacy. This isn't always a good or easy legacy; there are stereotypes of the "starving artist" and well-known connections between artists and mental health problems, which I'm definitely aware of, often fascinated by, and occasionally worry about (with regards to how such traditions might impact me, how others label me, or the work I create).

But besides the broad legacy of all creative people throughout time and the Western tradition of art and writing, there's also a more personal creative legacy - that of my family.

Like many things, it's hard to tell if it's nature or nurture that might encourage traits like creativity to run in families. Do we like art and writing because of some genetic programing passed down through our families? Or do we like such things because these activities were modeled for us (consciously or not), or because our families encouraged us to read or explore art?

In the case of my family, there isn't a clear person I looked to. None of my relatives have made a living off creating art or writing stories; those who are creative pursued such interests as hobbies rather than their professions. Still, I feel like there are enough people in my family who have such interests that it's worth noting.

My dad currently works as a manager at a print center for DTE Energy in Detroit, but has also held jobs in computer networking. He likes computer hardware and has been known to build computers from scratch. Growing up, he loved photography (this was before the age of digital photography, so we're talking film and darkroom techniques), and did some drawing in his spare time. My grandma tells stories of him holed up in his bedroom listening to The Beatles and practicing drawing portraits. And he also enjoys making videos - photography slide shows and training videos conveying information, both for work and at home.

My mom also had some creative hobbies growing up. She did a lot of sewing and embroidering and has shown me samples of some of the things she made as a teenager.

Perhaps the most obvious example is my grandma (on my dad's side), who over the years has found hobbies in writing poetry, coloring books, sewing, and painting. She has also kept handwritten journals for years (as I do), writing daily.

I also have crafty aunts - one who learned guitar and sings songs and puts on puppet shows for the kids at her church (and who did many craft projects with me and my cousins over the years, including a memorable "Egyptian pharaoh" costume that we created with metallic fabric and painted pistachio shells), and another who is into stamping and paper work, designing and stamping her own Christmas cards every year. These are not blood relatives, but are further examples of how I was encouraged to be creative when I was growing up.

Continuing to look toward relatives not related to me by blood, my husband's family also has some artists. His late great-uncle was a painter (we have a few of his paintings hanging in our house). Even my husband himself is creative - in college, we often spent time writing song parodies, funny Harry Potter-inspired rap lyrics, and exchanging short stories we'd written.

Looking at these examples often does two things for me -

First, it makes me pretty proud that I get to be a part of this creative tradition in my family - and also validates my experience. Theoretically I would be happy acknowledging my artistic or writing inclinations even if no one in my family ever shared similar interests, but because they do I feel like it's okay that I do, too - that indeed I'm meant to like such things, or perhaps have a natural talent for them.

Secondly, it makes me wonder if I'm putting too much significance on my creativity. If it's so common that several of my family members have pursued creative projects as hobbies, then why do I think I'm special? None of them have felt compelled to make their creative interests into a viable career. Am I only kidding myself in thinking that I could actually make money as an artist or a writer? Am I better off keeping my art and writing to myself, as most of my other relatives have done? Or do I just have such doubts because none of my relatives have tried to cultivate their hobbies into careers - and thus have no example to follow, no person to model myself after or pick her or his brain for advice?

I feel like I am often torn between such seemingly contradictory feelings. High self-esteem and low self-esteem. Which one is truer to my real feelings? Am I not so deep or despairing as I think, and only "activate" my low self-esteem so that I feel like I belong with all the artists and writers before me who have suffered with issues in confidence - or because, as a woman, I've been conditioned to downplay success, put others first, and think of certain aspirations as outside of my talents or outside of my reach? Or am I actually more inclined to my anxieties and doubts, and only developed what little (or well-hidden) belief in myself that I do have as a way to compensate for the not-so-great feelings of constantly questioning if I'm "good enough"?

Does it matter which came first? I suspect everyone goes through such fluctuations at different times in their lives - thinking, for example, that they're good enough at art or writing that they might make a career out of it and that such a goal is worth pursuing while also wondering if they're insane for even trying. Perhaps creative people have such fluctuations more often - or anyone else who works in a professional field where so much rides on what critics say and who you can convince to like and purchase your work. Actors. Writers. Musicians. Chefs. Entrepreneurs. There are a lot of unstable jobs out there where you don't always know when your next paycheck is coming - and without that immediate, predictable, and stable monetary validation, it can be hard to balance confidence levels. You have to believe in yourself and your projects - so that you work on them and make it to the next paycheck - but such continual efforts to prove yourself and the worth of your work is also bound to take its toll on self-esteem.

In any case, I am very lucky that I have a family who supports me while I try to figure this creativity thing out. I don't take their support lightly, and am immensely grateful. :)