The shift within me that began
last month is persisting. I’m fumbling my way through it; the whys, whats, and
hows. I’m not sure where I’m going or how I will be. Is this just a phase or am
I being shifted over into something else? The… devastation… that encompassed me
these past few years and grew stronger culminating in the third major loss
since moving here has certainly taken its toll. The Who Am I remains the same.
I am an artist, writer, photographer, but the where I am going is even more up
in the air.
There are doubts within – well,
there have been doubts for some time. I have to admit low self esteem is
something that’s been within me my entire life. It ebbs and flows. Most of the
time I don’t let it get to me and I’ve had enough successes that I am confident
in my abilities. Perhaps the doubts within me are not so much as to whether I’m
talented, but in the lack of marketing skills and charisma. I just can’t bring
myself to do real professional marketing. I can’t push myself in that
direction. There’s something within me that fights, kicks, and screams.
We have many conversations over
the subject of marketing and the ability to sell your work. There’s no one true
way. What works for some, may not work for others. If, at a fair, there are
three canopies of photography side by side and all the work is similar, what
makes customers buy from one and not the others? However, this not what I want
to talk about today although it is an aspect of my life.
I’m a bit concerned about my
well-being. It’s strange, because I never thought I would be like this. Can a
house affect a person so? More and more I know I need to sell this place and
get away from it. It does play a part in my worries about maintenance and
affordability as my bank account dwindles. It is too big of a house and yard
for me… for someone who doesn’t care to do that kind of work and hire it out.
It’s expensive.
This prattle isn’t really
addressing the issue. Maybe it’s because I’m not sure how to talk about it, but
talk about it I must in order to maintain my sanity. Talking and writing often
helps me figure things out and find answers. I always say there are times when
there are just not the right words to describe a situation. I’m struggling to
describe what I’m going through. Something tells me it needs to be discussed.
It’ll take awhile longer for the right words to come, I guess.
It dawned on me yesterday that
when I’m out and about with others, I can (almost) be my normal self. However,
when I am alone, whether at home or driving, there’s a melancholy that seems to
permeate my very being. It almost feels like I cannot recover from the losses
of the past few years and still be the person I was, that I have been so
damaged, that I will never be the same.
Maybe I’m not meant to live
alone. Then again, the thought of ever sharing the same space with someone
again is also not appealing. I’ve grown too stubborn and set in my ways. Never
again am I willing to put up with having to listen to someone else’s music or
watching only what they want to watch on tv. (So I have gone the other way and
I’m no longer willing to compromise… at least, for now.)
That’s not to say I won’t get
better. It’s just that I won’t be that same person. Something has changed
within me and I’ve yet to figure it out. I know for certain that I HAVE to get
out of this house. I am too sad here. I tried to rearrange things to “brighten”
it all up, but it hasn’t worked. Pele is helping and gives me someone to love,
someone to love me and be here with me. I need that. I still cry too much.
But I have my work and I love
writing. I’m even looking into putting a few of my drawings into a show. I’m
not giving up. It’s just this place is keeping me depressed. Even watching the
birds no longer holds as much joy. Pele sure likes those chipmunks, though.
I suppose I still need time, but
this house HAS to go. I can’t stand being here anymore and yet, I have a hard
time going off. I know this staying in isn’t good for me. I keep telling myself
I have too much to do, but I sit here with no ambition or motivation. Shame on
me. These are things no one can do for me or help with, but things I need to do
for myself. I know that. And I know that every day I am making the choice to
just sit here even when I know it would be better for me to be doing something
more constructive. I choose. There’s no one else to blame.
So, this morning I sit here again
feeling sad and low. Something tells me the inner shift needs to complete and
there’s nothing to worry about. That shift will be okay. I need to be patient.
It almost feels like a rite of passage and I’m eager to see what will be on the
other side.
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