Painting Gives Me the Peace Writing No Longer Does.
Where am I going? Sometimes, it feels like anywhere but here.
In the last couple of weeks, I’ve come up with nothing but frustrations in terms of my writing. Medium completely fell apart. The stories that once helped me reach and connect with my audience was now getting me nothing but crickets (or a vitriolic comment or two). More and more, it felt like I was screaming into the void. I was. There was nothing but negativity in terms of my writing and my business.
It pushed me right to the edge.
For weeks, I was a wreck. I was struggling to eat. I didn’t want to go out. I was fried, on edge, and more depressed than I was willing to admit. The breaking point hit. I spent a whole night sick, in tears, and so angry I felt like my seams were ripping apart.
Something had to change.
The next morning, I got up, got myself dressed, and went out. I walked through the park, got some coffee, and then toddled into town with my little dog (Percy) waddling beside me. We wound through the little alleyways and winds of the Edinburgh Old Town until I came to a small art-shop old and well-beloved by the locals…I went in.