I hesitate to write because honestly I don't want to whine and complain. I have more judges in my own head than there are in the world. I tell myself I shouldn't feel the way I do. That I am just pathetic. Why? Because I can't seem to handle the things I used to. Believe me, I've cleaned my share of toilets. I've delivered pizzas. I've done my share of grunt work in life. I lucked out big time with being a massage therapist. If it didn't completely tear my body up I would be doing that part time to make ends meet.
Last night was my first taxi drive. Its Vermont. At night, its blacker than the bottom of the ocean because there aren't big highway lights or any street lights. I had to drive to the airport to pick someone up. I had to stand there holding a sign for the ride....and watch everyone look at me and glance through me or show a bemused 'oh isn't that quaint' look as my piece of paper with the local taxi service on it quivered under my heart thudding grasp.
I could make this a long, humorous post. I don't feel like it. I don't feel humorous. It isn't funny to me to listen to an educated man (who by the way sat in front with me instead of in back so that was even more stressful) go on for almost 10 miles about the WEATHER. I switched the conversation to me and art because I couldn't stand the small talk. I knew he thought I was a nothing. And I could tell he didn't want to know about me. So I listened to him talk the entire 45 mi. in his barely audible voice. It was raining, foggy and pitch dark. Aside from having to concentrate to his babble, aside from driving a van, I had to find the place he was staying at and the pressure was building. I was grasping the steering wheel so tightly my arms were going numb. I finally told him it was my first drive....and I nervously laughed and said I hope I can find the place. I drove slower and slower trying to let my twitching vision calm down. My head just kept screaming to stop. Pull over and just say I can't do this. I felt angry that before I got the call I was just about ready to start a new piece now that I have finished that commissioned piece. So my night disappeared from me. From 5:45 to midnight.
I realize that panic attacks, poverty, and aging are catching up with me and I don't have the resiliency I once had. All of these factors really do take away confidence. I am angry that I seem to have no confidence most of the time. What happened to my power? I also realize I really am an artist. An honest to god serious artist. I do not have whatever it takes anymore to deal with something that takes me away from my time with art. That's when the judges come in and tell me how 'soft' I am. That anyone who reads this will judge me and think I am being a baby. A wimp. A wuss. Well maybe I am.
I feel defeated and overwhelmed right now.