My painting class started last night. I can’t even believe I made it to and through it. I had so much anxiety about getting there and just walking into the room that I wasn’t certain I could do it. I was thinking last night and wondering how I got to this point..this place where if something produces bad feelings, I avoid it. Especially when it comes to my work. But I will go further. If I approach something that I feel is out of my control or above my ability, I run. I have lived my life progressively trying to control more, trying to at least look like I know what I am doing and telling myself that if I don’t, then it is a reflection of my value as a person. Pretty distorted. One of the recurring themes I hear in my artist friends is the fear that somehow others will find out that they really aren’t an artist. I have been telling my young friends to be sure to make themselves do hard things and to follow through; to learn the lesson now of living life based on wisdom and not on feelings.
The class is good. The instructor, Scott, is great. The other students are fine. My biggest obstacle is me. It always has been.
