The will try to eat me alive.

I've heard from other artist friends that the constant up and down roller coaster of emotions over my work is normal. But damn, that doesn't make it any easier. I had a show a few months ago, it was fabulous, amazing crowd of friends and locals, art was sold...I was on a high that night feeling proud and grateful. Then woke up the next morning thinking maybe I should just give up painting! I was knocked back down that quickly with fear. All the usual suspects were there: thoughts of being unoriginal, uncertainty about my next steps, fear over not being able to make a living. But this time I didn't put my paint brushes down and retreat like I have so many other times, waiting for months to paint again (and letting commissions just sit on the sideline). I forced myself to muddle through the fear and FREAKIN PAINT every single day. Even if I wasn't happy with a piece at the end of the day, I forced myself to paint SOMETHING every day. And it worked. 

So here I am again, staring down the face of fear this morning. I'm in between studios (again), waiting another month to get into my new space where I will once again unpack all my things and stretch out. In the meantime it feels like every day is a battle to convince myself that I am on the right path.

But dammit, I will paint. EVERY DAY. And trust that it will all work out in the end.