So....what can you do when some major life plans fall to ruins? I cried. I pleaded. I moped. I wished I could bury my head in my painting and in preparations to move....but there was no focus. There wasn't a lot of sleep either. Or eating. My appetite decided to vacate when disaster struck, but it's been making visits now and then. One day at a time. One thing at a time. Get up. Go to work. Try not to cry at work in front of customers. Remember to eat, even if you don't want to. Go home. Play with Gershwin. Pace the house and wring your hands and call your closest friends and cry hysterically...and then go and see them for dinner, because the thought of cooking is overwhelming and right now and cooking for one is just a very sad idea. But slowly the debilitating sadness lifts. You talk about it, you spend a bit of time alone...most of it crying. You spend some time in the studio and are able to paint for about 10 minutes before you begin sobbing and need to call a friend to calm you down. You begin to wrap your head around things just enough that you can motivate yourself to do simple things again without it feeling like a major effort. The sadness and sense of loss are there, but it's a dull constant ache right now....not this mountain of an obstacle that brings on the dreaded panic attack. (That will come back later...with hurricane force....but deal with it then.)
And so, a week ago...my engagement ended.
"st. john's, nl"
acrylic on canvas, "9 x 12"
But I slept last night. I woke up and birds were singing and I lay in bed listening to them and waited for the panic to come. It didn't. So I got up, like I've done so many times....I fed Gershwin and let him out. I went into the studio and logged onto facebook. I found CKUA and began streaming the program because it was 'Saturday Breakfast', a lovely classical show to listen to while I paint. I have today off because part 2 of the NOA magazine launch happens later today...so I'll be heading over there soon. I got out my palette and found a photo from my Newfoundland trip that I wanted to paint onto a little recycled canvas. I finished this little painting in one session...and maybe this will constitute the start of the one-a-day again? I'm not sure, I hope so. If anything...it's me getting ready for artwalk and letting myself heal by doing the thing I love most. Painting. That and going to the farmers' market....which I'm also about to do.
It's a fresh, gorgeous Saturday morning. I'm writing this and feeling fairly normal. I guess that's what happens when you listen to Johann (Sebastian Bach) early on a Saturday morning.