#fred does taw

[thunderheadfred]

*deep breath*

So. I’ve mentioned I need to document everything. Well, this TAW process was threatening to stop my heart, so compiling the next week into an at-a-glance digital format helped some. I don’t like doing a schedule in my notebook because I end up losing track of the notebook page I need - and when things aren’t readable and immediately visually accessible to my brain, my skin crawls, instant overwhelming feeling, and everything goes up in flames.

I don’t anticipate sticking to this schedule very strictly during this break-in period. Really, it’s a goal to hit going forward. Today I did my morning pages for the first time in a week, and then forced myself not to puke and did some research into options for teaching myself art all over again. Reality check: I’ve been to art school, I know it was incredibly good for me, and I also know it’s inconceivable for me to go back, from a financial standpoint. Thus. Gotta haul myself up by the bootstraps and do. it. myself. It’s humiliating, it’s depressing, and it’s what’s gotta happen, because every bone in my body is screaming because I’m not drawing. I’ve been living with that scream in my head for years, so long that I learned to ignore it, and that’s bad.

Full disclosure, I’m married and unemployed, which is why I can dedicate this kind of time to self-improvement. My husband and I sat down and mutually agreed that I have a lot of mental health work to do, and my anxiety/depression/social anxiety cocktail dictate I’m pretty much useless even for part-time employment for the moment. Until I’m in a steadier place, this is the most economical, practical, and long-term solution to about ten different interconnected blockages in my life, art among them. I couldn’t do this without his support, and I understand if this seems... I dunno. Indulgent? I feel hugely guilty for not working right now, but then I’ve got to remind myself, this is all a process to fix that.

With the notable exception of my marriage, my life has been a train-wreck for about five years. Writing again was the first step of many, and I’m terrified to do the rest. It’s going to hurt like hell, but I’m glad I don’t have to do it alone. This community has been incredible, I can’t quite put into words what it means to have a support structure like this, no matter how far away or anonymous we may seem to one another. It means more than you can know. 

Here’s to forward steps!

Tagging @theherocomplex, since she is taking this journey with me - and has been absolutely instrumental in pushing me to push myself... so much. Anybody else out there doing The Artist’s Way? How’s it going?

[thunderheadfred]

That drawing desk right there has been in storage since my husband and I moved into our current rental - in June 2015. I haven’t cleaned or organized my work room since our wedding - in June 2016. I had so much residual stress from planning our nuptials (making all of our decorations, invitations, paper goods, and designing/sewing my own historical gown) that after it was all over, I just threw everything into a few cardboard boxes and never properly dealt with it. With that kind of “work space,” there was no room to think, to grow, or to work.

Still have quite a bit of sorting to do, but I plan to tackle it in small increments, so I don’t get over-emotional about dealing with that aftermath of such a hugely personal project. Small steps, but I’ve actually made progress on something I’ve been burying for half a year (the wedding clean-up) and now, I’ve hauled up something I’ve been burying far longer than that (my artistic block)

Also pictured: Uff da! mug, my custom desktop w/ Mad Max & N7 decals, my Yoshi pincushion plushie, and my dog (hiding under the blue blanket in the corner)

[thunderheadfred]

Tooth and Nail

Alright, still in week one, and I can already feel my enthusiasm waning. I’ve tried this program twice already - on my own - and this is what happens to me with every major project. A few days of hyper-focus and interest that isn’t sustainable, and then a long, dull, flattening plane of disinterest and shrugging. Since my last Red Streak update, I haven’t written a thing, and my interest has dropped off. Not only in my own work, but in everything. I have to push myself just to read, just to get up.

I know that my ADD-brain uses disinterest and depression as a mask for anxiety, fear of failure, and frank laziness. When the feelings are too intense to face - I shrug. When the work seems insurmountable - I lose interest. I have a comfortable life, why muck it up with complexity and challenge? Maybe I want to draw, but look at the hours upon hours of practice and work? Why can’t it just be easy? Why can’t I just be so preternaturally gifted that success falls into my lap? Aren’t I special? Everyone said so.

This is the hideous truth I fear about myself, that I’m lazy and entitled, that all I want is an easy life with no challenges or sweat.

I struggle to find external monsters - a lot of the TAW exercises so far have been focused on calling out people who were critical or mean to my inner artist. Alright, they exist, but I honestly can’t remember specific scarring moments. No one was ever cruel to me - in fact I was praised way too much, coddled and sheltered and never really taught the value of working hard for the things I want. My own laziness, my own guilt over my squandered talents, is what kills me every time.  I was an only child with two overworked, mentally-ill parents that spoiled me - then they mocked, humiliated, or insulted me for being spoiled. They were simultaneously proud and cruel, because inside they were simultaneously loving and damaged. To this day, I’m not close to my parents, but I also can’t paint their behavior as “monstrous,” because I see how much pain they were in. So, I took all of that blame into myself.

Over the years, I have taught myself that hard work is the only real measurable key to success, that persistence and tenacity, production and volume, are what make successful artists. Not innate gifts, not a rare or magical talent. You have to earn it, just like everything else. But I fail to live up to this ideal. Every time. Because I never internalized it as a kid, never learned how to work this way or push past the uncomfortable barriers that discourage me from working. 

With perfect self-awareness, I can see myself flinching from responsibility and work, and it makes me so viscerally disgusted that all I can do... is shrug.

This is my biggest fear. Bigger than anything else I can name. A fear so big that it comes out of the dark and threatens to swallow me whole if I think about it for more than a few minutes at a time. I lack this vital quality, the ability to do things I dislike, the ability to push through and just do the work.

I’m spoiled - I’m lazy - I’m worthless - I’m disgusting.

I hear that every every day. It is constantly ringing through my head and all I can do... is shrug.

[thunderheadfred]

Lull

I’ve gotten much better at recognizing (and ignoring, to some extent) the unavoidable period of self-criticism and disgust that follows any of my successes, however minor. Sometimes the link is hormonal (I’ve started noticing when my PMS is to blame, rather than my brain) but other times, there’s just a yawning lull after I finish something. It’s the pull of depression clinging to my heels, reluctant to let me move on or acknowledge any kind of progress. It can be difficult to parse out what is a physical response (needing to rest after a period of overstimulation) versus what is a disordered brain trying to sabotage my steps toward health.

I’m in that low period right now, and I don’t feel like doing much of anything. I’ve stopped hating myself for it (one step forward) but it requires careful treading all the same. Sticking to books helps, because I don’t compare myself quite so harshly to published authors as I do to my fandom counterparts. Meanwhile, I’ll read a fic or see some fan art and tear myself into absolute pieces, because everyone is so talented and I have no idea what I’m doing.

I apologize if this makes me sound disingenuous or petty or ungrateful. I’m not digging for praise or pity or anything, I’m just... kinda... thinking out loud, because it hurts to bottle it up, and I’ve already written a lot in my notebook today.

It’ll pass, it always does, and I’ll be positive and productive again, and not want to throw every word I’ve ever written into a flaming barrel full of garbage. For now, though, it just kinda stinks. I guess that’s acceptable. I don’t know.

[thunderheadfred]

Infinite Perspective Vortex

Feeling kinda low today, but I’ve got lots of reasons to stop beating myself up for that.  Here are things I’ve done today that don’t suck:

I’ve done my morning pages three days in a row. Unlike the spotty weeks previous, I’ve been doing the pages immediately after waking, and completing them easily without much problem. Doing so, I came to some pretty important conclusions about my internal critic/monsters and such.

Slept a full night and woke up at 8AM. That may sound kinda pathetic to some, but I am a lifelong insomniac with delayed sleep phase, so keeping a healthy circadian rhythm is a chore for me. But I did it! I’ve actually been doing pretty good on this front for most of the new year -big goal. Regular melatonin dosages and being smarter about my evening habits, all part of the plan.

I finished The Subtle Knife yesterday. Still need to read today.

I plopped my butt on the exercise bike for a few minutes. Wasn’t much, nothing spectacular, but I moved my legs, and that’s more than usual. Then I swept the floor, because why not.

I did some TAW exercises in my notebook, when I was really, really resistant. I can still do better on this front, but. It’s only day three.

I watched a few videos from this figure drawing series, and didn’t immediately run out of the room screaming. I didn’t draw, but I thought about drawing without having a panic attack. Square one, I’m back on it. 

Red Streak hit 5,000 views today. I don’t know that this is something I can even take credit for, or feel proud of? My imposter complex is a bastard, and won’t exactly let me enjoy this number the way I think I’m supposed to, but I’m still immensely grateful for everyone’s readership and support.

[thunderheadfred]

I fell off the TAW wagon this week. Hard. Straight-up faceplanted into the dirt, legs akimbo. Absolute wipeout.

No morning pages, no exercises. Didn’t even open the book. Haven’t read much fiction, either, none of my novels. No writing, no drawing, and not a single healthy night of sleep. I woke up late each day and pretty much did nothing but wander around in a daze, refreshing various websites. Gross.

I dun bungled this.

And now I can’t sleep because of a mountain of well-earned guilt. Racing thoughts. Anxiety. Comeuppance is a bitch. Fuckin’ A.

[thunderheadfred]

*knows that her therapist told her she has addiction and self-control issues*

*knows that she’s addicted to the Internet*

*crawls into a faraday cage to try and reduce her addiction to the Internet*

*waits five minutes then digs a tunnel to a wi-fi hotspot*

*dies of overexposure*

[thunderheadfred]

Panicking because 

A) staring down the long, long walk ahead to get back to drawing and 

B) starting to worry that I prematurely resolved some of the liminality in Red Streak when maybe I shouldn’t have? Maybe it’s fine? I don’t know? Tension wise, the thing operates more like episodes connected in an overall arc, I think. In that case, it make sense for tension to develop and resolve more than once. More like a TV show rather than as a single continuous ‘novel’ style... Is that even? True? Is that what I’m doing? Am I allowed to do that?? I don’t know wahata afawefaw why am I writing at all I’m not qualified