trying to become a creative success

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Dearest little white box, blank space, negative space, my journal, diary and confident. I seem to use this little white box as a place to process or record thoughts and feelings at the moment and thats good, thats a blog isn’t it? Is that my “brand”?.

Anyway I was so overwhelmed by the comments and feedback from my last post. I am still processing and trying to understand those feelings, so bare with me. But all the advice and kind, wise words <3
So this blog post, the title, the reason why I need to pour my heart out into this little white box.
The pressure to be a success, the pressure I am feeling and putting on myself at the moment to push myself and get recognised.

I was listening to the most amazing podcast the other day whilst making soup and washing the dishes. It was brilliant. I think I found my kindred spirit in the guest speaker and oh she perfectly described my life for the past 6 + years. I was in a small art school and constantly propped up and was made to feel *special* and like I was talented. You get cocky and almost spoilt with this. It is your identity, the artist/the one who draws/ the one who is good. And then you get thrusted (eep) into the big wild world where you are just one more little illustrator/artist/creator seller amongst many more like you, that have been made to feel somewhat special. Put yourself in a bland, office type environment and see yourself struggle. For you think if you are not good enough for this environment how could you possibly be any good at all (failing to see that its a square peg trying to be smashed and hammered into a round hole- ouch painful!).
And then there is instagram, branding, social media and putting on ones best dress and (war, bitch, fight?! what is the word)  GAME face. Clambering to be seen and trying to get somewhere and be something that the very task you are doing makes you feel like you have literally just sucked the life out the only thing you still loved and enjoyed. You have literally killed your identity (for identity and branding are two different things). SO who are you when you strip all that away? When you are just trying to survive?

I have recently gone through a tribunal after not physically and mentally (as both are so so entwined) been able to work and they ruled that I am indeed not fit for the working word. So what do I do when my work and what I do IS ME? I feel guilty and like I have failed because the tribunal (a whole host of doctors and specialist health care workers and not to mention the tight spanish (but lovely and ever so grateful for) social security system deemed me not able to work. Not to mention the 11 dr’s that look after me and are on my health team deeming me not well enough to either. But my brain, it plays dark tricks on me and makes me believe that I am a failure and not good enough / deserving enough. (That I am a lazy layabout).

It got to a point where every drawing and piece of art was created to fit into a certain image, where with most people a successful brand is them and themselves being them and others being attracted to the things they like/dress/wear/eat etc. Brand image isn’t something that is created it already should exist… Anyway going back to my main point. It got to the stage where I was just churning stuff out for the likes, the numbers, to feel that self gratification and also the reassurance that I am actually good, every like acting as acting as a sort of affirmation of the fact that I am ok and doing a good job.

It got to a point where everyday it was a chore and a panic. I enjoyed doing the actual drawing and task but it all felt joyless. And to prove a point to my weirdo brain that I CAN DO IT.

Oh and the comparison.

Don’t get me bloody started. Unhealthy comparison and trying to rack up points against successful colleagues and friends. Why are they doing so well? What can I do? Poor little victim me, spying and counting and not actually being proactive. Gah, this fight is a hard one.

So I should listen to my body and my mind and just rest and chill the f out and do things because I LOVE doing them and ask myself why I am creating something, is it worth while or just adding more noise to a very very loud room? hmm. Still processing. These are just thoughts and feelings whirring around and needing a place to call home. For example this here blog. The moment I try and force myself into a bi weekly schedule is the moment I totally lose interest in it. I resent it and feel so blocked and angry. I then feel like I have failed because I’ve not kept to this crazy scheduling regime, because that is what I SHOULD do to become successful. There are so many rules that I enforce on myself. Why not just post when the bloody hell it takes me fancy because I am happy/sad/creative or inspired to do so? I am slowly letting my self to rest (and not quit) but to let it all go a bit and let it be and not to try and control and make these crazy schedules of things I know deep down I will never get round to doing because my body and my mind decided to be too busy trying to bloody wage war on itself. (hello multiple autoimmune / anxiety and depression).

So my point? We are all just bloody winging it innit? Even if it looks otherwise.

The end.

From the trying to make it-but not quite there yet- try hard- super creative- draws ok- blogger- vlogger- chronic disease fighter- sister- daughter- partner- dog mummy- sad lonely bitter- 30 something has been-………………..
SARIE XXXX

A country walk

I wrote in my last post that I have recently made a massive life change and have upped sticks and moved to the country. We are now pleasantly situated in the hills that surround Barcelona. It has been the change, the literal breath of fresh air, that we have needed.
We are spoilt with the choices of walks and hikes to explore and have been out quite a few times on dog walks that have taken us to the most beautiful vista’s of the city and the surrounding country side. I love nothing more than going out and just noticing the area around and nature as it grows and changes. I love going out with my camera and taking a million and one pictures of every tiny leaf and bit of beautiful light.I also love using these photos later as a reference for sketches and incorporating them into my work. I love drawing plants and botanical things. They will forever feature in my work because that is when I am most at peace and that is where I feel my happiest. So things are good and I am forever grateful to live here and often find that I am pinching myself just to see if it is all real.
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Tick

A quick entry on time.
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I feel years fall like days. And days fall like years. The expression the days are long but the years are short. How apt I find myself thinking.
Everything around me is in constant flux and change is happening yet I feel I am wading through treacle to move the second hand on the clock just a tiny nudge. Life is on pause while everyone is around me getting married, starting families and going on big grand adventures. Whilst my little old body, aged before its time, sits whilst waiting seeps its way into my bones and eats away at them. The feeling of time rotting away at my insides, thick undergrowth and brambles growing around my bones. Making me feel suffocated and stuck. Making it harder to move from as they root me to this very spot.

The talk of change and future plans seem so distant and in the yonder when only spoken about minutes, hours ago, and then if by magic, suddenly those days turn into weeks that form months and then years.

Big heart wrenching occasions pass with the inevitable goodbyes that tug at the strings of my being, slowly pulling me down and making me miss and feel nostalgic for times that haven’t even happened yet.
Times that are spoken about wistfully, times that are spoken about with the gutsy confidence that comes with talking about very distant things gives you. The giddy excitement of a dream, plans and journeys (physical and mental). All spoken about with hope and joy. But its ok because they won’t happen for a while. There is still time, life still has time to happen, we still have so much time to be. Until the day arrives and its happened. And you are in the exact same situation with all those giddy plans but them still being so far out of reach. Hands flailing to catch at them, if you could just run that bit faster. But you can never run fast enough. You can always run a bit more tomorrow, until tomorrow and the day after and the day after that and so on have passed. Groundhog day. Energy rationed out like medicine. One bit today and the rest for another day.
Trapped by those seconds, minutes, hours, days months and years. All of that waiting and that never being. Its all so bittersweet. Trying your very damn hardest to enjoy it whilst it is here, this present. Thinking this could be the moment, this could be it. Although it never feels like it.
Trapped by that waking thought that life is exactly the same as when you last left it. Only the hands on the clock have been around way faster and many many times, there are new faces that look back at your older face. You awake and realise that you are 10 years older and wonder how you have slept walked through it all. Wading through thick syrupy time, eyes open but not really there. How did it happen? So you cling and grab onto little strings that hold you up, grasping at them. Clutching at any flicker of hope of excitement, that there is always some sort of plan waiting in the wings. Living on other peoples time and lives, watching through tired eyes. Happy to be there along for the ride but sad that its never really you. Happy that the ones you love so dearly are doing this thing called living so well. Happy that they spend their time so wisely.
And you wonder when will it be my second, minute, hour, day, month and year? Maybe tomorrow…

This is a little piece I wrote in 5 minutes hunched over my phone, it is what I felt in that moment (and do still feel). I am OK, despite it seeming quite dramatic. I am ok.