by Kait Mauro
I'm about to turn 25 in less than a month. I feel like I should have accomplished so much more by now.
I've been struggling a lot with big questions lately, so yesterday I decided to give myself a break and refuse to think about anything anxious or scary. I did not open the envelope from the student loan company that came in the mail. It kind of came back to bite me this morning when I woke up terrified of everything and just drowning in anxiety. I was afraid of living, of dying, of everything. I think all of the thoughts I was suppressing just kind of exploded because suppressing things doesn't work for me. You can only keep the demons at bay for so long, and apparently for me that means one day of very effortful peace. I took 3mg of Klonopin and that didn't help. I took a shower and drank some tea and that didn't help. What does help is writing, truth-telling, being raw and being vulnerable. That is my safe space, where I can build myself a raft of twig honesty and hope twine. I not-so-secretly hope that by posting my words and thoughts and work online I will be able to join some kind of global creative tribe.
Here are the questions that have been haunting me:
- What do I want to do with this "one wild and precious life" (to quote Mary Oliver) I have been given? I feel directionless. I want to be an artist. I don't know what I want, I know what I don't want - which seems to really frustrate everyone I know.
- What if I never feel like a real artist? What does it even mean to be a "real" artist? What if nobody ever cares about what I make? What if I get burnt out and stop creating altogether and end up with the sort of boring, same thing every week, average life I am terrified of having? What if I turn into my parents?
- I ordered business cards last night with my name, contact information and the title "ARTIST" on them, but this does not make me a real artist.
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Something I wrote today and thought I would share because you all are artists and I thought you might be able to provide some thoughts.
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At 65, the questions persist.
Gary - I am both relieved and frightened to hear that.
Still trying to find myself...just wandering off in a different direction.
follow your heart, not your head.
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"What does help is writing, truth-telling, being raw and being vulnerable. That is my safe space, where I can build myself a raft of twig honesty and hope twine." This is all that matters to me. It would be nice to have people I respect appreciate my stuff, but if they don't, well **sniff** that's their loss. *****
no advice here from me---as all "advice" is autobiographical, and in any case, pointless....just this: you've got heart, of all the virtues, the most important. fearless, write. that is all. what else is there?
Great line- "a raft of twig honesty and hope twine."
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" raft of twig honesty and hope twine" nails the problem. Avoid navel gazing. Nice picture of anxiety.*
You'll never be an artist. You'll only be someone spectacular who stuns the reader, viewer or listener with your work. For that gift some will call you an artist. Some won't.Things we do are so intertwined with words meaning little or nothing; popular, stylish, entertaining, meaningful. All we can do is practice our craft, or vision, our thinking and practice some more. One day someone may call us an artist. When that day comes we may well be dead.
Today we can do the things we know we must and do them heart and soul. Be an artist.
I love that you made business cards to identify yourself. You have made a stand! A declaration! You sound ambitious enough (constantly checking your talents and path.) so that, I feel, art will guide you as you immerse yourself and evolve into what you feel most comfortable and happy accomplishing. Words and images - all needing composition!