Balancing act
Balancing the need to create with a visceral urge to run away
Sidenote before I even start: This post almost had a different title. When I was very small and an only child, before siblings turned up, my Dad would read me a bedtime story every evening. One of the books I have a vivid memory of reading together, was the sequel to Charlie and the Chocolate Factory: Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator. Why? Because I can still feel the shivers that went up and down my spine when we got to the bit where the elevator doors open and the Vermicious Knids are there, twisting themselves to form the word SCRAM 😱
A few weeks ago I was pondering how to find balance between the three pointy bits in my trifecta of desires: my overwhelming need to be creative, my need to make a living - and my equally strong pull to escape it all, partly because of the pressure to not disappoint anyone (myself included) but also because I spend so long up in my head, I forget I’m a living, breathing being.
And you know what? It can’t be done.
But you probably knew that already.
The last few weeks have been all about creating - not just the art and videos and lesson notes - but all the other stuff. The more-than-slightly tricky bits, like the bits where I have to tell you all about it.
And you might not want to know any more about it, you might be happy just reading about what I’m up to and looking at pictures of the stuff I make. And that’s totally fine, because the last thing I want is to bore the pants off people by writing about things they’re not interested in.
But then there’s the balancing act.
🌸 To survive (in so many ways) I have to balance my personal need to create, with my need to create for other people. It’s why I’m either fooling around making dish scrubbies and tops I’ll never wear - or buzzing away at my sewing machine or clicking on my computer when everyone else has stopped work for the day.
📣 I do need to tell people who might like to make colourful, textural swirling lines of stitch, all about it. It’s my job, insofar as I have a job. But I also very much need to bury my head under the pillow and not do anything that makes me feel squirmy inside because I very much don’t want to piss off people who just wish I’d stop going on about it all.
So I’m running away
It was a sign that it’s time I tend to pointy bit three on my triangle: my connection with myself, and the wild and woolly outdoors. I’m going to feel cold, damp sand under my feet, the sting of the Breton wind on my cheeks - and if I’m feeling brave, perhaps the bite of cold salt water on goosebumpy skin. And I’m going to rest.
But it’s not a retreat
I have to be really careful not to label it as a retreat. That brings up images of artists going ‘on retreat’, installing themselves somewhere with limited facilities, for a period of time, in order to wholly immerse themselves in the place and their art.
While a mobile home with a Lilliputian fridge, no oven, and a shower head that launches itself across the cubicle then dances around your feet if you so much as turn on a dribble of water could be classed as ‘limited facilities’ - just the word ‘retreat’ gets me going in unhelpful ways.
In wondering what to pack, my imagination goes wild. I’m there, sketchbook and art supplies to hand, no commitments or time pressure, just me and the elements and my art. I will, of course, be on the beach at 6am doing my yoga and/or tai chi, before running into the sea for a morning dip. I’ll sleep as long as I like, and simultaneously wring every last drop out of being in such a beautiful place. I’ll read all my books, perhaps do some mini weaving…and knit. I’ll spend time with my husband and our friends, but take long solitary walks without wearing a watch. And it’s all absolutely barking mad.
Last year, I thought I had achieved minimalism but still took too much. Yes, I was mid-100 day project (sshh, not talking about that) but it was actually a burden. My favourite activity of paddling and looking at the different seaweeds became a chore. I crooked my back and my knees, kneeling on the floor of the mobile home trying not to get paint anywhere it shouldn’t be, and wondering why my gelli prints were so bad. It was frustrating. I wish I’d been outside instead, doing nothing in particular.
It catches me out, every time, this delusion that on my holiday I’ll suddenly be living the ‘best version’ of me, miraculously finding time to do All The Things AND feel refreshed and relaxed.
I’m not broken - but I still find it hard to switch off
Some people can sit down and instantly relax. Not me.
It’s partly a dopamine thing. My brain is less sensitive to dopamine, so I need more of it. When I’m sitting doing nothing, there’s even less of it about than normal. I might be tired, but I’ll also have the urge to do something, anything, just to get that stimulation, something to fire up the neurotransmitters. NB this explains the apparent contradiction of stimulants (amphetamines, caffeine) helping to calm ADHD brains.
It’s partly an attention thing. I have combined hyperactive (see above) and inattentive ADHD. In truth, I have no problem switching off. I can switch off when I’m paddling in the sea perusing les algues - or when I’m walking, or left completely uninterrupted while I draw or stitch. I drop into that delicious flow state, where time has no meaning. And that’s the problem. My brain wants to go there, it’s dragging me there, all the time. And I’ve learned, after 54 years, to resist. I have to: relaxing, letting my guard down, is what gets me into trouble. It’s what gets me told off for ‘daydreaming’ or ‘not paying attention’, and makes me forget things like shutting the fridge or hanging up the laundry or phoning my mother. I have a lifetime of training myself NOT to relax, because I can’t trust myself to be able to pull back out in order to do things like catch trains, submit my tax return, pay bills, turn up for work - all the things an adult should be doing.
So I’m going to try, really hard, to relax 😉 I’m going to - maybe literally, depending on the strength of that wind - bury my head in the sand, and forget all about it all!
Cheers!
Until next time,
You don’t have to run anywhere 😅
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Izzy enjoy your vacation! Everything that remains undone, will be right where you left it when you return.
I appreciate your honesty....and applaud you taking care of yourself and getting away. Have a wonderful time! We all feel this way at one point or another.