Final installment of my creative meltdown. Promise. Feedback is in, client is very happy, ergo, I am very happy. To be more precise, I am very happy that she is happy. I am not thrilled with the road I took to get there and I’m learning that not every painting, story, article, recipe turns out how you want. Trust in the process, right? Riiiiiight. Sounds good but whoever wrote that was not in the throes of writers’ block or an 11th hour deadline. Pretty sure that person has already won a Pulitzer or is sitting in their Manhattan loft painting with their celebrity art friends. Cuz it sure ain’t me.
But the good news is this: the feelings of panic are gone. I did my best. I showed up. I delivered. And now that I have a few days to reflect, I was really hard on myself. Harder than the client would have been. And now I’m on the other side, witnessing this part of the creative arc.
I ran the San Francisco Half Marathon a few years ago. The running part pretty much sucked. The idea was fabulous, the energy was amazing, going across the Golden Gate Bridge (both ways) was torturous and freezing cold and longer than you could ever imagine. But I did it. I finished the race walk-running but finished it on the slow side of respectable. When I was done, as tough and exhilarating and exhausting as it was, there was a “now what” feeling when it was over. I found myself conveniently forgetting the length of the bridge, the iciness of the wind, the ache of the muscles. I even caught myself thinking, huh, maybe I’ll enter next year and train harder. So here I go. I’m thinking, huh, that wasn’t so bad. My creative muscles ache in a good way! If I can do this, what else can I do? So it goes. Here I am, breathing a little easier today, just riding the real life pendulum of art making in all it’s real life beauty and messiness. xo