It has been way too long since I last sat down to write. Most of my journaling these days is frantic scratching at a CPT worksheet for my trauma group, or mostly vague instagram posts in an attempt to keep myself relevant and worthy of the almighty algorithm. But I do have a lot to say. I spent the end of the year in the heat of the first holiday season as an artist trying to start a business, attempting public school for my son, and helping out where I could with family. I ended up sick, on IVs, and on the edge of burnout. I knew it would happen, as it always does, despite new medication, because the second I push myself even a bit too hard my body protests. It's almost like it was reminding me not to get too cocky. But I made it through my first year, all the wiser, and actually made enough to cover my bigger start up expenses. For someone who hasn't worked in years, that felt like a pretty big achievement. So I let myself rest, enjoyed the holidays at home with my lil family, and a bit of optimism (and fear!) about the next year.
This year is a big one for me. I am working through a lot of personal stuff that I had not addressed. I am homeschooling my son and attempting to build a community for him to have some social interaction with kids his own age. I am planning more individual and family time for us to create memories. I am pushing myself forward in my art, to not only apply for new projects and experiences, but to find my artistic voice. I feel confident that I can make a good effort at all of it, as long as my body, and mind, cooperate. If I can get over this feeling that I'm setting myself up for failure, I might actually be able to succeed.
