“What is the pain you are willing to sustain?” Mark Manson

In my last post, I mentioned that I’ve been wondering how I want to use this blog and played with the idea of tracking my artistic journey. I’m going to run with that as it’s the primary focus in my life right now.


Over the last few years, I’ve tried to incorporate art into my life as much as possible. It hasn’t been easy. Juggling the constraints of adult life, self-care, work, and family is something I’ve found to be incredibly challenging. In the past ten years, I’ve been diagnosed with Autism, ADHD, and Executive Function Disorder, and while that explains a lot, it doesn’t tell me how to stay focused, plan and organise my time, regulate my emotions, or deal with impulsivity to name a few.


A common scenario is this. I started my second year of uni on a high. My bullet journal was up to date, I’d read all the novels and readings over the summer, I spent time sorting out my timeline for assignments and tutorial tasks and every day I checked in to make sure I was on track. What I forgot to do was allow time for life. As the weeks progressed and outside commitments came up, I found I was getting further behind. My stress levels rose, things got forgotten, essays got pushed back and avoidance started to kick in. By the end of the semester, I was so stressed and so far behind that I had no capacity to deal with a crisis, failure was inevitable. I know that sometimes shit happens, but this shit is a recurring theme for me.


Or I decide to implement a new health regime like meditation. For the first week, I diligently make time to meditate, and I love it. Then somewhere in the second or third week, I ‘forget’ that I’m creating new neural pathways and before I know it, three months have passed and I find myself saying, ‘Oh, that’s right, I decided to meditate each day. Wonder what happened?’ It’s frustrating and demoralising.
I’m still learning to work with a brain that seems determined to sabotage my every attempt to move forward. For those of you who haven’t come across this voice yet, and I doubt there will be many, my companion appears in the form of a well-meaning parent who is scared to let go in case I get hurt. This parent has very firm ideas about what is the right path for me.


‘You’ll never make money as an artist, why don’t you become a secretary?’
‘This is going to hurt, you know you can deal with it later, don’t you?’
‘Are you sure you want to wear that?’
‘Yes, I know you’ve made progress and have achieved so much, but…’


You get the idea; negative self-talk has been a topic of discussion for decades. Thankfully, I’m screwed up enough to need therapy, so I get the benefit of regular opportunities to learn new life skills. One of those skills has been learning to put myself out there and teach my brain it is safe and worthwhile to trust both myself and other people. This is scary! For anyone who has experienced trauma or rejection, trusting feels like the stupidest thing you could do. Opening myself up for that pain feels like self-sabotage, but I’ve come to realise that withdrawing from humanity means missing out on love as well.


About ten years ago I read an article by Mark Manson, he asked, “What pain do you want in your life? What are you willing to struggle for?” https://markmanson.net/question
His article resonated with me on a lot of levels, and I began to question the goals I was reaching for. At the time, I was studying science at university and as much as I loved it, I found myself becoming increasingly depressed. Why was I doing this? Will I use it for anything? Who am I doing this for? I was also avoiding doing the one thing I’ve always loved, creative writing. Mark’s article forced me to evaluate how much struggle I was willing to have in my life to achieve my goals. I looked at all the things that were hard about the science pathway and asked myself whether I was willing to work that hard to become a scientist. On nearly every answer, I said no. It was depressing as I was already at the end of my second year and because I realised I was trying to prove something to someone else. This wasn’t my pathway.


After a while, I decided to ask myself the same questions about being a writer. Keeping in mind that at this point, my writing consisted of morning pages and a lot of crappy poetry sprinkled with a few gems and some half-hearted attempts at drawing. I jumped online and researched the challenges of being a writer and formulated them into questions. Every single question got a big fat yes! For this, I will struggle, I will burn, I will break. For this I am willing to face rejection, to lose sleep, to keep trying repeatedly.

Because writing means everything to me.

I can’t imagine a life where I don’t write. I’ve been dreaming about this for as long as I can remember, but fear of failure kept my dreams small, and fear of rejection kept me from sharing what I write. Well, I’ve been rejected multiple times and I’ve survived every one of them. I’m learning to see them as lessons rather than failures, and I’m finally listening to the voice that knows this is my path.


Considering this knowledge, I joined a couple of writing groups; one local and one online, both very different. The local group is heavy on sharing and critiquing, while the online one focuses on dedicated writing time. I also had a few semesters at uni where we had to critique the writings of other students. I’ve slowly learned that putting my writing up for critique is doable; sometimes scary, but often very rewarding. I’ve also found that sometimes the critique you get is biased and knowing how to take what is useful on board and let the rest slip away, is helpful on so many levels. Allowing my work to be critiqued is making me a better writer and teaching me different ways of viewing my writing and the world around me. It also showed up all the cliches in my writing.

First time for everything


Last year I participated in National Novel Writing Month NANOWRIMO https://nanowrimo.org/ for the first time. The goal is to try and write a 50,000-word novel in the month of November. I went into it with the idea of ‘Let’s see what I can do.’ I didn’t write a novel, but I did reach my word count. What I came out with was ideas, scenes, and characters for a trilogy. It was bloody hard work and I take my hat off to anyone who manages to write an actual novel in this time. It would have been so easy to give up. My wife and I contracted covid in October, and by November I’d developed pneumonia, followed by gastroenteritis and conjunctivitis. My body was falling apart, but my head and heart were determined. The funny thing is that being sick gave me cause to slow everything else down. No one wanted me around while I was sick, so I was able to dedicate my time to writing, and I did it in a way that allowed me to rest whenever I needed it, and work when I could.


What I also gained from this process was the realisation that if I dedicate myself to something that appears unreachable, I can get so much closer to it than I ever dreamed was possible. I’ve come to appreciate that I don’t know what I can do because I haven’t done it yet, and that’s fine. What I can do is show up and give it a go. Moving forward, I know one of my biggest challenges will be learning how to find the balance between my dreams of writing and art, and my commitments to work, self-care, and the people I love.


This week I submitted a short piece for the Tasmanian NANO Spring zine which will be distributed at The Small Press Zine Fair next month https://www.facebook.com/events/583435487325065
This is way outside my comfort zone, and I was nervous about having a go, particularly as the theme of Spring wasn’t resonating with me. I spent a few hours dot-pointing ideas, eventually deciding that I don’t like spring; so, I wrote about that. I considered using a pseudonym, but in the end, I just went for it. I’m glad I did because the few people who’ve already read it, liked it.

Over the last week I have found myself exploring the zine world again, I had no idea it was still so popular. A friend and I had a go at making zines many years ago and I still have them. I pulled them out to have a read and discovered two very interesting things. Firstly, they weren’t very good, were full of advertising, and had very little creative content. Secondly, I was so proud of my small contributions and I remembered how much fun we had making them. I didn’t give it much more thought, but every night since I have found myself waking up through the night with ideas for zines. Maybe I’ll explore this one a bit further and see where it goes. The idea of doing something that allows me to combine my love of writing with my art is very tempting.


For now, keep reading, keep writing, and keep creating.

Keep doing whatever makes your heart soar.


Namaste
Annie
A.L.A.S


Image: Silhouette of my children on the beach. This painting was submitted to the Minds Do Matter Art Exhibition and received the People’s Choice award. It was the first time I’d ever tried to paint anything.
© Annie Christie-Whitehead 2010

Images © Annie Christie-Whitehead

From L to R: Creative journalling page, Ulverzine 2008, heterometrus sp., shading practice from Visual Arts course in 2021, painting: random ideas of a moonscape, “Together” My first attempt at painting submitted to the Minds Do Matter art exhibition in 2010 – winner of the People’s Choice award.

What is it with all the gaps between posts?

I’m starting to think that blogging isn’t my cup of tea.

Recently, I entered a short piece in a local zine. In the entry details, they suggested adding links to your site/s. Sure, why not? Well, maybe the fact that my last post was 4 years ago might be a good reason to not promote myself too widely.

Anyway, I’m back, again. No promises this time. I’m a lazy blogger, but only because I’m busy with so many other things. When I finally worked out how to get back into this site, I found an unpublished post from 2020. It’s published now. Better late than never.

So much has happened since my last post from 2020. My health is better than it was, but I’m now dealing with emphysema because guess what? I didn’t quit smoking. Self-inflicted so I’m not going to complain.

I ended up pulling out of the Visual Arts course because they couldn’t convert it to a sustainable online environment, and by the time we were allowed back into the classroom, everyone’s tempers were so frayed I just lost interest. But it was fun, and I learned a lot, the most important thing being that I need creativity in my daily life.

The following year I enrolled in university to do a Dip Art – English major because why not? It was offered to me for free because I have been a part of a Dementia Research study for the past five years. They’re trying to determine if keeping our brains active reduces the risk of dementia. The first two years were great, even though I did fail one unit and had to apply for remission because my health packed it in mid-semester. I also discovered I have ADHD on top of autism, so that explains A LOT! This should have been the beginning of my third year (part-time, so two more years to go), but I pulled out last month. Sometimes, what we want, and what we can do, don’t always agree. There’s been a lot of family stuff going on, a new job, and combined with health issues, my stress levels were getting way too high. So, I had to reassess my priorities, and unfortunately, uni was the only thing I was willing to let go of. I’ll go back one day, maybe, if it’s what I really want, but for now I’m okay with my decision.

You would think that giving up uni would mean I’d suddenly have a lot of free time. You would be wrong lol. I’ve been busier than ever and what I have realised, is that I was constantly putting important things on the to-do list because of uni deadlines. Now that is no longer the case, I’m finally getting those things done.

One of those things is trying to decide why I started this blog and what I want to say if anything. Honestly, I’m not all that interested in writing about all my crappy life experiences, nor do I think it would be of benefit to anyone. I’m a little tired of the mental health recovery journey. Being a lived experience speaker for a few years put that one to bed for me and while it was empowering and useful and definitely a space that needs to keep being talked about, I don’t have the energy for it right now.

One idea I have played with is whether to document my journey as a blocked/emerging artist. I know that when I first admitted to myself how much I need creativity in my life, I felt a huge wave of grief for all the lost years, and I honestly wondered if it was too late to start.

I’ll think about that one and get back to you. Hopefully before 2027 😀

Namaste

Raven

A.L.A.S

Reflections on Covid – 19

Oops! Just found this in my drafts. Should have been posted in 2020 🙂

What a year!

I just logged on and realised I haven’t posted since December last year, oops. It’s been a crazy, scary, enlightening year so far and I thought I’d share some reflections on what I’ve discovered since Covid invaded our lives.

As much as I enjoy the company of friends and family, I have always needed to hermit regularly to cope with the influx of energy from being in other people’s space. This year, I have been forced home for nearly five months and I discovered how easy it is to become VERY comfortable with the hermit lifestyle. So comfortable in fact that I found myself experiencing anxiety every time I had to go out. I have just recently returned to face-to-face classes at my art school and meetings with my community group and it is proving to be very challenging.

Unlike a lot of people I know, I haven’t been alone over this period. My wife and son live with me, so I have had people to talk to. I know this makes for a very different experience compared to those who have been living alone and my heart goes out to everyone in this situation. Then there’s the people who have been forced home into unsafe living environments and I can’t even imagine what they are going through.

So, I have struggled with an ethical dilemma during this period. Part of me has desperately needed to cocoon myself from the fear and stress that covid has wrought on the world, and part of me, the part that loves and lives for community engagement, has wanted to do all I can to support the communities I work with. At what point do we step back and say, “I can’t do this anymore?” I am crying as I write this because I love working with and for my community and I want to keep doing this. But, my health has been compromised over the years from working too hard, exposing myself to vicarious trauma, and struggling to maintain personal boundaries and self-care. I took nearly 18 months off from all work and only returned, in a limited capacity, towards the end of last year. In a lot of ways, I feel that Covid has set me back nearly two years.

I’m frustrated with my body and its inability to function well, and how long it is taking to recover. I am being sensible and trying to limit how much I take on, but even the little I am doing is too much some days. When your body, mind, and soul experience a total collapse, there is no rhyme or reason, no ETA on how long it will take to recover.

It doesn’t help that I have had to let go of coordinating a major yearly event either. This event was my baby, started seven years ago, and I am very proud of what we have achieved. At the moment, handing it over to someone else to co-ordinate, feels like I have lost something important. I know I haven’t lost it. I know that even though the event was my brainchild and for the most part, I have been responsible for the bulk of the planning, it was never MY event. It has always been and always will be a group event. What I am struggling with is that I have had to hand over the organising because I CAN’T manage the workload, not because I don’t want to do it. I feel like I am handing over my child. Silly maybe? But the grief is real. I know I can and will continue to be a part of the event planning and running, I just have to learn to adjust to the changes.

Namaste

Raven

A.L.A.S