Faithlessness

As we inch towards the second Holy Day of February (date of our first kiss coming up soon), I'm stuck too deeply in the murk of the present to take strength from the glories of the past.

I'm in another one of those long silences where it hurts to keep track of days. I didn't get a letter last week. I did get a phone call, and a surprisingly long one at that, but instead of being motivating, it pitched me down a long slope that I'm only now rolling to the bottom of.

Remember that scene in Princess Bride when first Westly, then Buttercup tumble down a hill? A lot like that, except none of the romantic and hilarious context.

I admit, it's possible that my biochemistry got the best of me and brought out the worst in me over the past few days and I didn't do enough to combat it. Instead I stayed mostly in my room, mostly watching movies and TV shows. Mostly funny ones. I did a lot of sleeping, too.

But that is the past and I shall speak of it no more right now.

What concerns me is the future. My future.

I've lost the faith I once had that I can be a successful artist, or in any way make a decent living on my creativity. When I reach this point, invariably I despair that I will be a productive member of society within the next year.

Feeling useless isn't new to me. It happens whenever I lose direction in my life, which accounts for at least half the time I've been married.

I waited for DH to get accepted to art school.
I waited for DH to find a studio job.
I waited for DH to get into the Marines.
I'm now waiting for DH to get out of boot camp.
Then I'll wait for him to get out of MOS training.

I've been waiting two and a half years. What's another 6 months?

Don't mistake that list for me playing the victim, or blaming him for my struggles. This is just the way things have gone, and I don't think the decisions we made were bad ones. Maybe I wish that DH had worked more at getting into SCAD, but not nearly enough to pinpoint that as the point where my future path evaporated.

For these past few years I've held onto the mantra "keep working on art, keep working on art", believing that I'd find out how to apply or further develop my self-taught skills once things settled down.

But a number of factors in the past week have eroded my confidence that a life of creativity could ever support me. The break in momentum is one. What was supposed to be a week off is now eleven days, and no proof it won't be more. Perhaps to my detriment I've been following the news of the economy and, convinced that art is a luxury, can't imagine people paying me for it when things are so tough.


I'm rootless, with no home, little money, and no constant, frequent, or even predictable contact with another human who can keep me grounded. But I'm not free, either. I'm not single and able to follow my dreams and pursue my goals and pursue opportunities to create a foundation for myself.

I don't think things would be much better back in CA, but on days like yesterday, I'm really not sure.