The Struggle

This blog was originally supposed to be a journal of my struggle to regain my artistic side.  It has turned into a jumble of other kinds of posts, but today, I will speak on my struggle.   I have paints, canvasses, brushes, mixed-media supplies, beads, jewelry tools, oil pastels, sketch books, pencils, colored pencils, and watercolors.  I even have inspiration, which I jot down dutifully when it strikes in my iPhone notes section.  What I lack, is motivation.  I simply can't get myself to pick up a brush, a pencil, some wire for jewelry.  I have painted 3 paintings, but they were all done in March and April and since then, nothing.  I find myself staring blankly at the TV instead, or mindlessly looking out the window, or doing mundane housework.  I just feel....guilty about taking the time for myself to work on something I love.  It's the same with writing, my novel is 3/4 of the way done, which is great, but the only reason that gets done is that writing is one of my major forms of therapy.  I journal a lot and the writing is something that comes easily, naturally, where as the art---it's more of  a process.  I never know what the final outcome will be and I never know if I'll be happy with it.  I feel like it's so unworthy of people's attention, that it's insignificant and unimportant.  The thing is, when I actually do it, it feels good.  I feel alive and awake and inspired and connected.  I feel my emotions coming through the brush strokes and I feel that the image on the canvas can speak.  I just put my toddler down for a nap.  I have one painting, a mixed media, that needs finishing.  I'm nervous, I'm anxious, and I'm scared to go and pick it up.  But I'm going to try.