Meeting Goals

As usual after a lengthy hiatus, I'm not sure how to start my entry. 

...in this case by writing one sentence and then thinking of two or three things I need to do immediately then wondering if it is too late to write and if I should just go to bed. 

I clearly did not succeed in my plan of bi-monthly updates, a fact that I realized when I started my July goal list and saw my June goal of 'update website twice'. 

It's been a busy couple months and that has kept me distracted. Honestly, in June, I don't think I even THOUGHT of updating. It simply slipped my mind. 

This month, I have thought about updating a number of times. Of course those times are usually times that I can't, like at work, or during the few minutes I'm squeezing in my morning pages before I have to go get dressed and be an adult. At those times I tell myself that I will definitely add an entry that night, and then I forget by the time evening roles around, or I think about it but I'm tired and busy and there are too many distractions and it just doesn't get done. 

Other times, I have thought about updating but have been feeling badly enough about myself and my art that nothing feels like it is worth posting and I figure I'm better off working on stuff -- which I don't see as a BAD choice. It's the nights that I'm feeling too cruddy to even do that which really grate my cheese. The nights I know that I should work on something and that I will probably feel better if I do, but I can't muster the motivation out from behind the depression to even make the attempt. 

That's the bitch of depression though, isn't it? Knowing that if you could just get something done you'd feel better about yourself but not being able to convince yourself to do anything more than endlessly refresh tumblr, or curl up on the sofa to read for hours. When I finally do something I DO feel better but I am never sure if that is actually BECAUSE I did something, or because the chemical imbalance finally lessened enough so I was able to both do something and feel better. 

But enough of my mental health problems. 

I HAVE been working on things. I made something a while back which...just didn't quite work out how I wanted it to. I'm working on something now which I think I'm liking a little better, but I'm struggling with the ongoing problem of adult life -- even small projects take so long, squeezed in between the rest of what I want and need to do, that when I do have great new ideas, the spirit of them fades away before I can work on them. Some are abandoned to the pages of my sketchbook or the back corners of my mind, as I'm unable to recapture the heart of the idea that I wanted to express. Those that do get developed don't always...I don't even know how to fully express this. I need to be able to work faster. To spend more time working so I can get more projects out and both hone my skills and be able to push through projects that may not be pleasing me to something new. That's a lot of the secret. Just work a lot. Make new things, develop new ideas. 

I don't know how to articulate everything I suddenly realize I want to say. 

I'm feeling cranky and maudlin tonight. 

I'm feeling dissatisfied with myself in a number of ways and my art and perceived personal failures in that arena are only one aspect of my current stress and anxiety and general unhappiness with myself. 

This post was intended as an update with maybe a few sketches to assert that I continue to work. It has turned into a frustrated rant too late at night on a Sunday, which doesn't matter excessively, as I fell asleep for a couple hours this evening rather than working on the projects I had been planning on tackling. 

I know that art and creativity are often seen as natural companions to mental health issues, and that there are those who believe that depression and angst are what make the greats what they are. However, based on conversations with others and on my own experiences, I think that is faulty logic. Yes, some of my sad times have fueled things I've made, but so have my passions and my joys (and to be honest, half of what I make when I'm depressed smacks of over the top teenage angst and is not fit for mortal eyes). All my depression really ever does is make me unable to move forward, so convinced of my pointlessness that creation is beyond my grasp.

I hate feeling like this. I hate feeling so unhappy with myself and not sure how to balance the various aspects of my life in a way that will improve my self other than to accept that this is a rough patch and that there is nothing to do but look for solutions one at a time and move forward with them as I can and hope that the slow path forward will lead to improvement and to meeting my goals, both in the short term and for my life.