Jan. 15, 2002
I don’t want to admit it. I’m embarrassed to say it. I feel like a fake to declare it. But I will if only to keep the integrity of this site.
I’m having a down day. A full blown can’t get my ass to work even if it had to save my life kind of day. I know, it was just the other day I was complaining about not having any down time.
I went to bed at around midnight last night full of energy and enthusiasm. I had my weekly Docent Training class last night at the museum and it left my brain whirling because we had just spent three hours learning about abstract art and artists. This was by far the most interesting class I have had in my four months there and for the first time I made a connection to abstract art. Instead of hating it I have to confess to now being extremely passionate about it. Learning about it made me feel freer with regards to my own creativity and that I didn’t have to colour within the lines to be accepted. It wasn’t about being pretty, but expressing. That new thread of learning energised me into wanting to paint and create again after a month of stillness. I couldn’t wait for the next day to begin.
When I got home from class I had emails from several people who just made me feel so wonderful and excited. Their enthusiasm and honesty made me feel accepted as an artist and friend. Their words made me feel powerful. “If they say I’m on the right track,” I thought, “I must be! Let’s show them they’re right!”
With so many ideas and encouragement with me, I went to sleep a very content, excited person, waiting for the next morning when I could use all the feelings I had to begin something.
Instead of waking up at the usual, normal hour of 8am, something woke me up instead at 4am. Even for the workaholic I’ve become, 4 am is just downright too dirty a time to start doing anything and so I tried to fall back to sleep. But I couldn’t. I began to try every trick in the book to no avail. The milk didn’t work, watching mindless tv didn’t work, and meditation didn’t work. Even two thousand sheep didn’t work. I was up, no way around it.
With less than four hours sleep, I was tired and in a funk. My eyes had a hard time functioning and my brain was thicker than London Fog. This rendered me useless. I kept wandering the house trying to settle down and do something but at around 11:30am I had to give in and take a nap.
After the nap I tried to write. I began to just work on what was already there hoping my brain would get a much needed jumpstart. But it didn’t’. Instead I was left cranky, more tired, frustrated and even a little bitter. I think I even wallowed a little bit too.
It’s frustrating to me when I want to do something – work on my writing, finish my proposal, make some headway on my portfolio – but I just can’t. I get angry with myself for not doing anything. If I call in sick I don’t have a back up to keep things caught up and going until I return. If I don’t do anything, nothing gets done.
It’s hard for me to accept that some days I kick ass and some days, not so much. The past two weeks I have been superwoman and accomplished so much with little sleep, that I have a hard time comprehending why today is any different.
I have all this inspiration around me; great ideas that need to be made real and too many wonderful things going on. But right now I just don’t want to be a part of any of it. I’m worn out, I’m tired and I need to accept that today, that’s just going to have to be OK.
Even if it kills me.