- Move from Cheyenne, Wyoming to St. Vrain State Park, Colorado.
- Phil flew to Michigan to take care of some things and bring back the van.
- The day after he drove 1,200 miles back to Colorado, we hit the road to drive 892 miles down to Cottonwood, Arizona, boondocking most of the way.
- Argue by text with a friend – over nothing.
- Endure a two-day headache.
- Worry about finances.
- Move the RV to Mesa, Arizona.
- Thanksgiving with friends.
In short, I’ve been a mental mess. I’m a bit confused about whether I should be spending my time painting, travel blogging or working on the number of fiction and nonfiction books I have started. I want to do it all, but I can’t all at the same time. So I have been paralyzed, trying to figure out the “right” course of action. One of the big problems with this is that there is no one right answer.
What brings me the most joy right now is when I sit down with music in my ears and paint. However, I have a stash of paintings I have already completed and so I am running out of room for storage. I need to get them listed on Etsy, which takes a lot of time.
I am also still fighting my fear of allowing others to see my art. A little issue I really need to get over. Fast.
After having a long chat this morning with my baby brother, who basically told me to quit whining and start blogging about my weird, fabulous nomadic life and to sit down and paint my frustrations, I am following his advice.
The first thing I did was clear off my desk, which acts as temporary storage, just like an exercise bike. Got my water, donned my painting apron, plugged in my earbuds to Pandora, sat down and hit play. Madonna was first up (yes, I still like Madonna. Pink too. lol). I picked up a paintbrush and found myself starting to move in my seat. Dancing in my seat. Again. The tears started flowing as I realized that I needed to be here in this chair, right now.
I put down the brush and picked up the pen to write what I was feeling on my mixed media paper. Then I simply painted over it. Tears can bring such a release of emotion. I had held them back for so long and allowing them to flow, in a private, joyful manner felt magical. How could I forget in such a short time that I need to create for my sanity.
What I create is beside the point. I’ve been so focused on whether my art was any good and whether anyone would like it that I had forgotten that it is the act of creation that is primary. Not the end product. In my old logical “responsible” life, the end product was ALWAYS the point. So I forgot. I need to change my life and my thoughts so that the acts that bring me joy stay front and center on the to-do list. Why is that so darn hard?