I’m feeling rather sorry for myself tonight. I’ve got a sore throat, a cold, and all the usual aches and pains that I deal with every day seem to have decided to join in a bit louder than normal.
I was watching a period drama. A woman was being launched into society, expected to find herself a husband and get married, and blah de blah. She nearly married twice, but in the end she devoted herself to her writing.
And that part struck a chord.
Maybe I should be devoting more time to my artwork. Giving it a proper place in my days instead of just thinking about how much I want to do it. I wonder whether I’m giving it enough time to find out what it could become.
Then I think, maybe it’s my writing I want to give more time to. I’ve been enjoying putting my thoughts into words, even when those thoughts are a bit muddled and I haven’t really worked out what I’m trying to say until I say it.
Or maybe it’s both. Does it have to be one?
I know I want things to change. I keep coming back to that feeling. But wanting change and knowing what to actually do next are two very different things. I can see all these possibilities, yet I still feel very much stuck.
And tonight, when I’m feeling rotten and everything hurts a bit more, it’s harder to see where to start.
I wasn’t expecting a period drama to have me questioning what I’m doing with my life. I was really just looking for something to watch.
But here I am, wondering what it would look like to give more of my time to the things I keep saying matter to me. My art. My writing. Perhaps both.
I don’t have an answer tonight. Just that familiar feeling that something needs to change, and a wish that I knew how to begin.