Very Normal Thursday

Picture this:

You wake up, exhausted, even though it feels like yesterday you got nothing done.

You walk around your house, looking for odd tasks that need to be done.

May as well do laundry, you don’t have many pairs of socks left.

You make breakfast as you listen to a YouTube video about writing, even though you’ve been avoiding doing that.

You think about answering texts, but it seems weird today (like most days.) Consider calling that friend you’ve been thinking about, but the idea is overwhelming. Not because of them, because of you.

The laundry’s done. You hang what needs to be hanged and put the rest in the dryer.

You pick up a book: one of the 7 you’ve started and not finished in the last year. Maybe you’ll make some progress on it. You read a few pages, and that feels better. At least you did something.

You should probably make yourself a website. That’s what the book says.

Everything is fine, right?

You think about writing. You sit in the garden and scroll on your phone. You check on your plants. Take out some weeds from your cucumber pot.

Is someone mad at you? It feels like that lately.

You have a class, so you log on and try to listen. The teacher guides a meditation, except you can’t seem to pay attention. It ends, and she asks “how are you feeling about your vision now?” What vision? You don’t know if you fell asleep or if you were thinking about something else. Were you thinking?

You ask a few questions and get told they’re good questions. You look over at the projects you’ve started and not finished surrounding you. You count five just in this room.

What you “should” be doing creeps in, except it seems to be just out of reach. There’s something you had to do today, you’re sure. But you can’t remember what it was. You planned your week last Sunday - you could check your journal.

Except you know you didn’t follow the plans you’d made, and you’ll feel guilty if you see them, so you’d rather keep guessing.

It’s fine, you’ll do it at some point.

You make lunch, and watch a video on growing cucumbers. Most of the ones you planted back in April seem to be dying.

You think about promoting your book - you want to, you need to sell more copies in order to print, but what can you say about it? Maybe it’s easier to call the whole thing off.

You eat lunch: chicken your mom left you and mushrooms you just seared.

You try to learn “What Was I Made For” on the piano, and end up crying.

You consider writing something about Barbie, and womanhood, and losing your boy friends to the patriarchy, but you have too many feelings and too little to say.

You think about writing. You think about what to write about - you have so many ideas, and none of them have any shape.

It’s fine, you’ll know when it’s time.

You feel it bubbling up inside you, like you’re going to burst into tears again. So you give up, and you write.

And a recollection of a day in which everything has been fine, but everything has been off, comes together. And it’s only 3 p.m.

Is writing what you needed for it to come together? Probably. And writing is scary.

When you don’t write, there’s so much you don’t face. So much you don’t think about. So much you get to hide.

But it builds up, fills your brain up with fog.

Until one day, you write. And it doesn’t feel great, but it feels better.

Now you have something to show for it: the fact that you’re here.

And there seems to be more air in the room, thankfully.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, I need to write again.

I don’t necessarily feel ready to come back. But it’s more of a need than a want, because if I keep not-writing I think I’ll go insane. And this newsletter keeps me accountable.

So hey, it’s not Wednesday, but I hope you’re happy to see me in your inbox!

I’m not sure if I can promise weekly editions, but I’ll do my best to keep up.

My time away has been full of lessons, experiences, and challenges. Maybe I’ll tell you more about them next week.

But today, I’m sending this email.

Unedited. Raw. And more honest than any of the last emails I wrote before taking a break.

I had thought my return would be a more joyous announcement, rather than a cry to the muses for help.

But it makes more sense to show up with this raw honesty than with a polished image that would not reflect where I am right now.

If you’re still here, and still want to read me, I’m infinitely grateful for you!

As always, I’ll do my best to make it worth your time.

I’ll try to get a clearer mind from here until next week.

So… see you next Wednesday?

-Vale, The Friendly Artist

P.S.

Though it feels very uncomfortable and very weird, I still feel obliged to remind y’all I wrote a book, which you can pre-order here.

It’s my first poetry collection and some days I feel proud of it and some days I want to bury my head in the sand when I think about it.

In both of those days, I can confidently say that both me and my friends who helped me get it done put our entire hearts into it.

If you have any questions about it (or about anything) please don’t hesitate to reply to this email!

Ok I’m done now, see you next week.