Despite looking normal and being able to function with a little bit more ease due to adapting- It makes sense that I'm still dealing with vertigo, spasms in my face causing drooping of the left side, cognitive problems such as high sensitivity to over-stimulation, numbness, tingling, and so much more.
Looking normal is one of my biggest obstacles these days. In fact; I have become such a master at seeming like nothing is wrong that I convinced myself I was well enough to work a part-time job. Then I convinced an employer and entire team! And then I burnt out after only 2 months on the job.
While I am proud of my very enthusiastic attempt at working- I knew I needed to leave the part-time job to return to taking full-time care of myself. It was with great sadness that I handed in my resignation just yesterday.
What does this mean for me, now?
Back to the drawing board! Quite literally. I've decided that this is the time for me to stay committed to my artistic practice. I'm not "giving up", by any means. I'm refocusing on the priority of keeping well. My neurological health is number one.
2020 has been bittersweet. I want to THANK YOU for all the love my art has been getting. With now being a full-time artist, your support is appreciated even more than ever. That being said...
My shop is now updated with currently available paintings!
When I came home from the hospital in August, I was losing my mind while trying to figure out how to live comfortably while being home full-time. My mind was so scrambled. These days, I am so limited by mental fatigue that it can be hard to easily feel happy. I was slipping into a brutal depression as I struggled with finding my footing.
Usually I'm the type of person that likes to be incredibly regimented. Maintaining a schedule and feeling collected helps me feel worthwhile, and gives purpose to every hour of the day.
During nursing school in 2012 I would strictly abide by a schedule that had a set time for everything. I wrote in every single thing I did, from class times and gym sessions, to bathroom breaks.
When I met my boyfriend Nathan back then, he was surprised when 9pm came and I would say, "I'm sorry but you have to leave now. It's bedtime. Goodnight!" I would send him home because lights were out by 9:30pm, so I could be well-rested and early for school the next day. Class started at 7:30am, but I considered myself late if I arrived a moment past 7:00am. This is what I affectionately coined "suffering from chronic punctuality".