Oh helplessness. You and me have a long, and colorful history. You’ve been by my side, hanging out for over 9 years now. And I’m sure that you’ve served a good purpose, somewhere, somehow. I’m sure you’ve tried to protect me in some way.

But it might be time for you to move along now, and go search for new horizons. Or at least take early retirement. I hear there’s a nice settlement package if you leave quietly.

Allow me to explain

One of the unfortunate side effects of being diagnosed with a chronic illness as a child is that everyone starts to treat you like you’re helpless. And to a certain extent, you are helpless, in more ways than one – you’re helpless to do anything about your condition, and often times you’re too sick to help yourself do things like feed yourself. So for all intents and purposes, you feel pretty damn helpless.

But nobody ever explains to you that this feeling helpless right now doesn’t make you a helpless person. That I didn’t have to be a victim, that I didn’t have to see myself that way.Instead  I internalized that helplessness, the thought that “I am helpless.“

Flash Forward to Now

I am no longer in that situation – I can manage my illness, and I’m well enough to take care of myself most days. In fact, I do pretty bloody well if I do say so myself.

So the original helplessness is gone. Unfortunately, the mentality stuck around and I struggle against it every single day. I am not some powerless victim, but a very strong, ingrained, lizard brain part of me says I am – I am a powerless victim, I am helpless in the face of day to day challenges that come up – money challenges, career challenges. The helplessness starts to sing its siren song of victimization and it’s hard to fight it. It’s so tempting to just lull yourself into not doing anything because “What can I do? Nothing.”

Money Triggers

Money is my biggest trigger it seems. Right now, I’ve got about $1000 in debt, and I need to buy a camera, a printer, a new computer, and a wireless router. Really, I need to come up with about $3000-$3500, and not even necessarily all at once. I could do it a bit at a time.

But when I sat down this morning to start coming up with plans for finding that money – strategies, plans etc. – and all my brain could think was “This’ll never work. Ever.”

And that’s usually what happens. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. Because I will try these plans and strategies and the helplessness will inevitably seep into them, and soon the edges will be tinged with desperation, and then I give it up as a lost cause. Self sabotage at its finest.

I’m really, really tired of this

I am so over being a victim, and seeing myself as some pathetic, powerless person.

But that doesn’t seem to make too much of a difference, because unfortunately, my arse is pretty comfortable in this chair. I have yet to find the right leverage to get me out of this mental rut.

I know that there’s something in here about claiming your own power and becoming a creative, proactive force in your life. And that horrifies the victim in me – “Oh my god, we can’t do that! I’m a victim!”

Yeah, yeah. I know.

But it’d be nice to feel like I’m happening to my life instead of my life happening to me. I’d like to inject some gumption into me.

So I turn it over to you.

Have you ever gotten stuck in the helplessness rut? What did you do to get out of out? Or, did you find ways to make the helplessness shut up for a bit so you could do your thing? Was it a process, or a decision? I’m just really curious.

I’d appreciate it if we could leave the “shoulds” at home though – like “you shouldn’t feel like this to begin with” or “you should have figured this out earlier” or “you should just snap your fingers and get over this already.” This is a place of kindness, compassion and acceptance. Shoulds are strictly forbidden.

I’ve been awake since 3am, my mind churning. Every single cell in my body is yelling “Stop! Turn around! Go back!”

On November 20th, I finished my job at the smoothie bar and health food store. I quit with the intention of following my passion, my art.

Do you know how much art I’ve done since then? One piece. One 8×10 commission for Christmas. That was almost 4 weeks ago. Sure the client loved it, but what happened to art every day? What happened to pursuing my dream?

Instead, I’ve been positively overwhelmed with website work. Not to blame my clients – I took on these sites. I love my clients – they are sweet, wonderful people with a lot to offer the world. I’m thrilled to be helping them shine their lights.

But I’ve been spending 10 hours a day on the computer working for them. I made a semi-unconscious decision that I would put my art aside until I’d finished these sites, and built myself a little nest egg of money.

But these sites aren’t being completed as fast as I’d originally thought. Some look like they’re going to stretch out over months. Part of me wants to whine and say I didn’t see it coming, but I did. I was just asleep at the wheel, as I too often am.

I got out of bed at 3am to write this in my journal – Art is the most important thing to me in the entire world. It is my passion. Nothing else. End of story.

Sometimes I fall asleep.

Sometimes we all do. I was lulled by the siren call of money, of safety. But not of love. Oh sure, designing web sites is fun. But some of the tech administration work I’m doing? It bores me to tears. My body has been aching, exhausted. It let me know almost 2 weeks ago that I was going the wrong way, as it always does.

My question is – why am I going down this path? Why did I fall asleep? Why did I stop paying attention?

I know I go to sleep when I’m scared. When I can’t handle something, I shut off. If I look back through my life, I can see it time and again. I think I was overwhelmed by the possibilities. You know the phrase that freedom is more frightening than any prison? It’s more true than I think we’d all like to admit.

I suddenly had total freedom and I successfully got rid of it in record time. If I put as much energy into growing my art career as I do avoiding it, I’d be a millionaire. Now that’s something to think about.

If I put as much energy into my own marketing as I do other people’s, I’d be a millionaire.

So why don’t I?

Ahh, that’s a loaded question. I don’t seem to know the answer yet. I keep trying to find it and then it hides behind a hedge, or pops down a secret tunnel. It doesn’t want to be found, this block of mine. It wants to keep on hiding. Maybe that’s part of it – the need to hide.

But I feel like there’s something deeper than that, a resistance to owning my own power. Part of me doesn’t want to take responsibility for this art thing. Part of me doesn’t want to take responsibility, period. Not that that’s a sin – a lot of people go their whole lives without ever taking responsibility for it.

I also know that the only way forward is by taking responsibility for my life and no longer feeling like a “victim of circumstance.” I come by it honestly – it’s been drilled into my head since I became sick – so I’m trying not to be ashamed of something I was taught to believe. But it doesn’t feel good to think of yourself as a victim, someone who has no control over their own life. It’s not the most empowering way to see yourself – needy, small, dependent. Yet there’s comfort in it because it’s known, it’s safe.

And with all of these questions tumbling around my head, it’s no wonder I’ve been up since 3am.

Notes on Comments – This is my stuff. We’ve all got stuff, we’re all working on our stuff. I would love to hear it if you’ve ever felt like this, or been in a similar situation, or maybe you’re feeling like this right now. I’d really love to hear about it.

However, this is one of those things where I need to work through it on my own and advice just gets me more stuck because then I think I “should do it that way.” When I’m ready for advice, I’ll be sure to let you know. For now, I think I just need some camaraderie on this tough road we travel through our stuck, patterns and ick.

Just as a head’s up, I’m pretty sick right now.

I think I had a stomach ulcer that ruptured. There’s been a lot of pain, etc. I won’t go into the gory details, but I haven’t eaten in 2 days and I’m high on painkillers.

As soon as I’m feeling better, I’ll be back on here.

Have a great week!

I’ve been thinking a lot about success lately, and it seems to be popping up everywhere - blogs I read, newsletters I get, to conversation topics on Twitter. Everywhere I look, something is reminding me that I’m aiming for success and asking me what my version of success is.

Except I don’t have one.

I have no idea what success means to me, except for maybe a bar that I’ll never reach. And maybe that’s why I’ve never sat down and decided what a successful career means to be, because it just seems like something I could never possibly have. I don’t even know what success feels like, except for what it feels like to not have it. (Or at least what it feels like to think I haven’t reached it.)

So what if I just gave it up? Not the art, but the notion of success? What if, instead of trying to reach for this bar that I don’t even believe that I’ll reach, what if I just ditched the bar?

Could that work? What if I was working towards nothing? What if there was no chance to even feel like a failure, if the whole paradigm of failure vs success wasn’t even there anymore?

What if my focus changed completely? Mind you, that would mean actually having a focus to begin with, not something I have very often. I often forget the big picture, of why I’m doing what I do – to share my art, to move people’s souls.

What if that was my only parameter for success? Did I get up today, and share my art, and stir someone’s soul? Check. Okay, we’re a success.

Or with no vision of success, would I just drift? Would I lose all focus entirely, and wander through life, accomplishing nothing, finishing little, and just generally end up rather miserable.

Or would the lack of defined goals set me free, and loosen me up from the chains of failure when I don’t meet them?

I’ve got a whole lotta questions, and not so many answers.

Subconscious definitions

However I decide to settle my conflict with success, there is one thing I have to do – uncover my subconscious definitions of success that are making me cringe when I think about it.

Example – I think that success means being extraordinarily wealthy and famous and since I’m not that, I’m a failure. The funny thing is, I don’t care about that stuff. It’s not why I became an artist. But I feel like I need to get those things to prove to society that I’m not a failure.

There’s that inferiority complex again. Hi I’m Sarah the Sick Girl and I need to prove to you all that I’m not completely useless.

And while I can see this pattern showing up, I still haven’t shifted it yet. Although maybe all of my explorations around my definition of success is a sign of shifting, space and movement. Let’s just say it feels like I’m loosening the knots that this pattern has tied around me.

If there was no society to prove myself to and money wasn’t a problem, what would success look like to me?

And there it is – clarity. I would be sharing my work with lots and lots of people. I would have tons of collectors. Not because I wanted the money but because my work just moved that many people and that many people fell in love with it. No ego, just a spreading of beauty. I would barely be able to keep art on the walls because my collectors, my Right People would just fall in love and snatch them up. And I’d be happy – deliriously happy.

I guess that’s my vision of success. It feels clear, and shining, like a diamond, compared to the mud of my current definition. It makes my inner artist jump up and down and clap her hands, and my soul sings.

This is a goal, a vision I can work towards. It also has no sting of failure – as long as I’m painting and showing my work, it’s all just steps towards creating a world where my art is loved and shared.

And that is a beautiful place.

You know what really gets on my nerves? (And it’s been annoying me more than ever lately.)

The idea that somehow, playing small is noble. That living a life of quiet misery is somehow the truer, better, more humble path.

I would like to call bullshit, thankyouverymuch.

This has been said a million times before…

But seriously, you playing small serves absolutely no one! And I’m not saying that you have to go out and conquer the world. That’s not what I mean by being a bigger person.

But this idea that crushing your own hopes, dreams, desires and passions to be this tiny, miserable person is somehow good? Or helping people? Or makes you a better person? HOW?!

Really?! How?! Can someone please answer that in a way that would satisfy me, because so far, I’ve never heard an explanation that didn’t have BS written all over it.

I was talking to a friend a couple weeks ago who was going to audition for a lead in a musical at her university. Our conversation went something like this:

“You know, I’m a really good singer! I’m the best singer that’s auditioning! I’m going to be really pissed if I don’t get a part, because that would make no sense. I really want that lead role. For pete’s sake, I actually want to be on stage for once, and have a part that really matters.

But that’s probably really selfish of me to want. I shouldn’t want to be a lead, should I? It’s probably really bad of me to be saying all this.”

Oh yeah. Because being an actress and actually wanting to be on stage is a ridiculous notion. No actor ever wanted that. They all became actors to be the maid or the chorus every single time, never be noticed, never get any juicy roles, and mostly just hang out in the background. That’s the motivation for every single actor that ever was.

Does that sound as ridiculous to you as it does to me?

Now I don’t blame my friend for saying that. She’s just going by the cultural standard – sit down, keep your head down, don’t ask for what you want, and shut up. If you wanna be happy, it had better be by these preset standards (lots of money, shiny cars, big house, flat screen TV, vacations in the Dominican) or nothing at all. Have a nice life!

Grumble, grumble, grumble.

Sorry. This whole idea just gets me really annoyed. You don’t have to be miserable. You don’t have to ignore your own needs and desires. You don’t have to live like that. Society just says you do. Well who the hell is society anyways?

Once I was talking to a friend about how sometimes I get really nervous about love and find it hard to trust that someone would love me. Her consolation was that, “That’s a good thing. Everyone feels like that. If you actually trusted that people could love you, then you’d be a cocky little bitch and you wouldn’t be able to like yourself.”

Bullshit.

Having low self esteem, not being able to trust that someone loves you – those are not signs of being a good person. They’re actually the fastest way to have a lot of unhealthy relationships.

But it just irritates me that somehow those things have been glorified by society, and built up into virtues. Arghh. I could go on for hours about this.

Feeling safe in being loved, following your heart, doing what you love, living life the way you want to, by your own standards and values – these are not bad things. These are not selfish, awful, horrible things that if you did, you would suddenly become Hitler or something.

You are, in fact, allowed to be happy by your own standards. Yeah. Take that society. Take that!

And would you look at that? I said all these things and the big society monster did shit on my head. I’m still here. I still love my life. I’m still happy. And I’m going to keep on doing these things because I refuse to play small. I refuse to back down. And I refuse to live a compromised life. Tried it once, made me miserable.

What would you change if you decided to live big?

Last Friday I was all “Rah rah rah! I’m ready to leave the cave and tackle life head on!”

Today, I’m all “Good god, where’s the duvet and the cookies?!”

Progress – I wish it was a straight line

Time and time again, I am reminded by life that no, progress is not a straight line. And no matter how much I want it to be a straight line, it won’t be.

Sunday was just abysmal as far as days go. Yesterday was okay, but in terms of feeling capable of working? Not so much. (Although I did send 3 emails I’d been avoiding! Go me!) Today, my head hurts, my body is tired and I just do no feel capable of doing anything.

Grumble, grumble, grumble. I’m less than impressed with it to be honest.

Patience – I have none

Oh, patience for other people I’ve got by the truckload. The nice salesman at Leon’s who accidentally sold my new bed to another couple? Yep, tons of patience (even though I’ve been sleeping on the floor for 6 weeks.)

Patience for my body’s need to recover? Ehh, not so much. I just wanna feel better already dammit! (cue in toddler temper tantrum right about….now.)

There are lots of things to do and places to be and dammit, I’m supposed to have my life together by now!

Yeah. No pressure right? Just sort my entire life out in the blink of an eye. Remember my realization that I will never be the supermodel version of Martha Stewart? Just because I know I’ll never be her, doesn’t mean that a part of me isn’t still trying like crazy.

Meeting myself where I am

I am so bad at this, it’s almost laughable. No really – tears-falling-down-my-face-holding-my-belly laughable.

Because I almost never meet myself where I am. I usually see where I am and then yell at myself for it. Loving, I know.

I think (and I’m feeling my way through this as I write, so patience please) it’s because I believe that wherever I am is probably the wrong place. And it seems that I’m right back to my deep, inner belief that everything about me is wrong.

Hey there, Belief. I’d say it’s been a while, but that would be a lie. It’s been since Sunday. That would be the last time that you got triggered and freaked out on me which caused me to freak out and have a thoroughly miserable day.

Sigh. This is one belief that I am truly sick and tired of encountering. It doesn’t seem to matter what I do, that belief shows up and pooh-poohs all over it. And until I can get that voice to shut the hell up quiet down a bit, I’m never really going to make any kind of progress towards creating the life that I really want.

My Noticing Commitment

I’m going to really start noticing this pattern. I’m going to commit, right here and now, to noticing when this comes up. I don’t know if I can do anything about it yet, but what I need to do is enter into an intentional relationship with it. Pay it some attention. See what triggers it the most. Maybe even keep a log of when it comes up, why, what it does, what it says.

I’ll see what it’s doing. Play some detective. And then perhaps I’ll be able to find its weak spot, the place where I can shift it, nudge it slightly, create some space. Because I’m sick and tired of breathing down my neck all the time.

I’ll keep you posted. Wish me luck.

I was talking to Jesse last night, about something I can’t even remember, and I said something about how I didn’t feel like I had “it” together, and he responded with:

“Well what the heck is “it” anyways?”

I just sat there and moved my mouth for a few seconds unintelligently. I couldn’t even think of an answer.

Secret Expectations

I sat and pondered what “it” was for a while. Eventually I realized I had this whole set of secret expectations of myself, wherein once I met them, I would consider myself a successful woman.

This list consisted of a whole array of almost arbitrary criteria like:

- I had to be making at least $100 000 a year. At least.

- I am a domestic goddess. My house sparkles with cleanliness and dust could be found nowhere.

- I miraculously become a model. Or at least become perfectly model-gorgeous

- I have toned, wonderful abs

- My cellulite has mysteriously disappeared

- I suddenly can bake and cook and not make a complete mess

- Everything I do is graceful and elegant – no longer do I walk into walls without warning, or trip on air

- I handled everything with perfect ease; I always knew what to do and I never freaked out, cried, or got upset. I just dealt with everything.

- I have somehow managed to become very, very strong and can kick ass like Buffy. No more small and weak for me.

Without my knowing it, this has been the yardstick I’ve been subconsciously measuring myself against for the past few years.

And you know what? Fuck, I am sick of it.

I am never going to be Martha Stewart

This woman who I’m supposed to be kind of makes me think of a more formidable, more attractive version of Martha Stewart. Maybe minus the doilies though.

For one, I am never, ever going to be a domestic goddess. I have more interesting things to do than dust. Sure, I love to cook and bake but as creative pursuits and an opportunity to make a glorious mess than to one up the Joneses.

I just wanna make stuff. I keep my house clean, but not spit shined. I pick up after myself, do the dishes, wash the floors.

But is it the first thing thing I think of when I wake up? No. Sometimes I’m apt to forget that my laundry is in the dryer, or that I was going to wash the floor. Maybe an interesting creative idea caught my imagination, or a beloved friend called.

Maybe I’m successful just the way I am

I feel like this is a theme that I keep coming back to, from different levels and different angles. I mean, success is just a word, with multiple definitions. What if I redefined my meaning of success?

What if success was that I’m living on my own, 1800 km from where I grew up, when no one ever thought I could?

What if success was running my own business and making money from my art when no one ever thought I could?

What if success meant being able to get out of bed in the morning and shower and create, when I was supposed to be banished to a bedridden life of boredom?

What if success was being in a healthy, happy relationship and not an emotionally abusive one?

What if success is living in exactly the place I want to, just because it makes me happy?

What if success was just being me?

If my definition of success were all those things, then by that measuring stick, I’m a fabulous success.

It’s about nudging the pattern

Changing my definition of success won’t happen overnight. Lord knows I’ll probably still have moments of overwhelming insecurity where I’ll wonder if maybe I should focus on becoming domestic goddess instead of a creative careerist.

But then I can remind myself that that’s not actually my own definition of success – it’s someone else’s. And that I’m allowed to have my own definition of what makes me successful, and that I can follow my own path.

I’ve been attempting to write a post for the past  2 days. I open up the page, stare at it for 30 seconds, and then promptly go do something else. I have a bad habit of multitasking whenever my brain gets stuck, which probably results in more brain stuck, considering its been two days and I still haven’t written anything.

I’ve actually run out of reasonable things to do, so here I am. Writing.

Still not entirely sure how I feel. I’m still empty, but since I’m no longer attempting to do anything requiring any kind of energy, I’m not noticing as much. However, the thought of trying to do something requiring such energy makes me want to burst into tears. (Oh! My brain just gave me something we could be doing instead of writing this. But for mindfulness’ sake, I’m going to attempt to finish this thing.)

So, life.

You know, I really thought that this whole cocooning thing would be harder. That my brain would be freaking out the whole time, telling me that we need to work or we’re going to die of starvation because we won’t be able to afford anything because we’re not working.

As it turns out, I’m so tired, even that part of my brain has shut up.

This whole consciously not really doing anything thing is actually coming pretty easily. I’m rather astonished. I’m not exactly the epitome of grace, and I’m not saying that any of this is happening gracefully, but it’s happening with more grace than I could expect.

Less temper tantrums than I thought there’d be. Less meltdowns wondering where the money’s going to come from. Mostly just lots of walking and sitting next to the water.

Which brings me to my next point

If one has to have a complete meltdown anywhere in the world, one should probably do it next to the ocean. Preferably within walking distance of the ocean.

Despite all the sad and the empty that I’m feeling, I am eternally grateful that this is happening where it is. I could not ask for a prettier, more wonderful place to take a mental vacation.

First off, fall is starting. And I love fall. And fall here is especially pretty and wonderful. It’s all warm days, and cool nights with lots of sunshine and sea breezes. Come on, how could you not love that? And it makes all the pretty brick and clapboard houses look even more quaint and charming.

Yep. Heaven in my books. Absolute heaven.

So slowly, things are getting better

The lack of pressure that I’m putting on myself is helping the most. It’s when I get all wrapped up in needing to do everything by yesterday that I just lose all connection with myself. Laying off and giving myself time to pace, time to rest and time to recuperate is really helping.

Ironically, my cocooning is about giving myself more space. Ha. Who woulda guessed?

This week, I might try and get back on the creative horse again with sketches, dabbling and doodles. I have this overwhelming urge to get gigantic pieces of paper, tape them to the walls and go nuts. I don’t know if I have pieces of paper big enough, but even if I get a bunch and tape them together, it could have the same effect…

But again, I’m not going to force it. If I feel so inclined, yeah, I’ll go do it. But if my body is yelling, no! Go sleep! Then sleep I will.

We’ll just see how things go.

I’m taking the world’s fastest break from painting my little heart out to tell you all that, OH MY GOD I MOVE IN A WEEK!

Saturday, July 25th at 3am I am leaving St. Catharines and heading out to my new home.

Holy shit.

Holy shi-aaattt.

I’m kinda freaking out. I still have 4.5 paintings to finish. One of them I have to start and finish. If that one happens, it’ll probably be a miracle.

Oh and I’m broke. Kinda. Not a huge amount, but quite a bit. I actually have no idea how I’m paying my rent next month right now. It’s like an adventure! A magical mystery tour!

I’m sure everything will work out. It’s not like I have time to make money, so I’m just going to have to pray. Eeeghhh.

But I’ve got a new phone number! And a new address! And they’re turning on my electricity! It’s all just very exciting. Very, very exciting.

And because I’m super lucky girl, my parents are paying for me to fly back for the opening of the Nude Show. It’s gonna be amazing. These paintings are looking so awesome, even according to me. And I’m a pretty harsh critic.

Just as a head’s up, the prints of the nudes will be going on sale next week, so get ready to pre-order. I’m only making so many of each painting – probably 10 12″x12″ prints  for $100, and 2 18″x18″ prints for $200 of each painting. They’ll be signed and numbered. Once they’re gone, they’re gone. If they sell like crazy, I’ll probably have a smaller open edition of the paintings available, but they won’t be half as nice as these ones will be. Trust me.

I’m totally stoked for the show, and I think quite a few people are coming out. It’ll be my last show in the Niagara Region for the foreseeable future, so I might as well go out with a bang!

Then I’m gonna go back to PEI and sleep. Oh my god, do I ever want to sleep. I’m not as dead as I thought I  might be, but I don’t think I’ll be speaking English by Friday. I think I’ll only be speaking Yawn.

That’s it for me to for now, I’m back off to keep painting!

Me hard at work.

I feel old.

That’s all I gotta say about that. I also feel sentimental. I may have cried watching the ceremony. But don’t tell her that.

She was totally on the honour roll too. And got a gold medal for maintaining a 4.0 all through high school. I’m so ridiculously proud of her.

Isn’t she beautiful? I love her so very, very much. I’m definitely going to miss her when I leave.

My baby sister. Who is no longer a baby.

In other good news, Jesse and I actually have a ride to PEI now, thank god. His uncle, with a big truck with towing capacities has offered to take us.

In return, I’m taking him deep sea fishing. I may well regret this, since I have an irrational fear of deep water. It also means we’re leaving a week later, which totally gives me extra time to finish stuff, so woohoo! It’s all worked out perfectly in the end. I love life.

That’s it for me for this week. I’m gonna go back to being sentimental about my sister. And paint. Gotta get back to painting.

ps. The raffle is still on, and not many people have bought so your odds of winning are actually pretty high. Go get in on that.