The Art of Healing

Once again, I find myself throwing a random post out into the cosmos, and that has made me start to wonder, "why did I stop writing?". The truth is, I don't know how to put on a cheerful face when I'm down, and I don't like spreading gloom. So, the posts became very rare bursts spread across the months. The last three years have been an intensive study in humility. We both lost our jobs in 2009 along with countless others and suddenly, the words just stopped. Despite the number of people in a similar position, I felt incredibly alone and somewhat embarrassed. Some things have improved. Some haven't. I've worked on some amazing products and have gotten by financially. Our laptops were both stolen, but have been replaced. We were in a horrible crash last year, but survived without much injury and I was just able to replace my car this past weekend. One would say we are blessed and that things are looking up, but a grim heaviness remains. It pulls at my shoulders and squishes my insides. I've taken to carrying my sketchbook everywhere and am happy to say some of the stress has been converted into the lovelies you see above. I used to think I knew what I needed. Every day I learn that I still don't have much of a clue– but I do need art. Like if I can just process life into art, maybe everything will be ok.