Monday, September 28, 2009

I promise.

I feel this weight of anxiety on me right now. And not one overwhelming anxiety, just a thousand tiny ones. A bill coming up in three days which I haven't paid yet, for whatever ridiculous reason. Mailing out paintings. A bee in my bonnet over something that I should have let go of by now. Deadlines for writing. Painting calaveras, and skeletons. Health issues. Unsent emails that may or may not cause conflict. My weight. Anticipating my daughter's year anniversary in THREE months. I have so many appointments coming up, I feel overwhelmed and excited about them. I like taking care of business, and yet I get all twitchy and anxiety-ridden when I have stuff on my calendar. September was a virtual deluge of social engagements. Taking us out of our fortress of solitude and into the world of functioning adults always makes me pouty and weird. Why do I ever make plans? No, really, I dread them until I go and have a fine time, but the weeks of build-up chap me. The truth is, no matter how much I claim to be anti-social and introverted, if you ask me for lunch, I am usually busy. I always have stuff on my calendar. How does that happen when I am allergic to the whole making plans thing?

Lately, though I've been immersed in painting and writing. It feels good to be exhausted from creativity. To feel you have earned two hours of mindless television reality shows is a wonderful feeling. AND YET, anxiety sometimes makes me feel like I have this intuitive portent of impending doom. My thinking falls squarely in the apocalyptic these days. I go from fine-fine-fine to THE SKY IS FALLING. It doesn't help my husband is in a futuristic sci-fi phase of his reading.

"Can we get a crossbow? And a gigantic cistern for water?" He paused, stared off into space. "Oh, and a generator. We totally need a generator."
"What the hell are you reading?"
"It isn't about that, Angie. I just think we need to be prepared. Just in case. Why, does it bother you if we become a survivalist family?"
"We live in New Jersey, dude. Our neighbors will steal our stuff, and eat us within the first month. We need a compound if we are actually going to survive."
"Speak for yourself, wife, I will have a crossbow."

Still, the other day, while anxiety-surfing and being unproductive during naptime,I saw this new addition to my studio on Etsy. It was an impulse buy, much like the psychic reading I had a few months ago, but what can I say? It spoke to me. Please ignore the chaos of my studio space.

The print is entitled, I promise. It came with a postcard of a forest that simply read:
you are lovely.

Why, thank you. I feel better already.

*If anyone is interested in this poster, I bought it on Etsy here.


  1. I could have written this entire post- minus the crossbow, and not as well. I exhaled right along with you when I got to the last part.

    You ARE lovely.

  2. 'AND YET, anxiety sometimes makes me feel like I have this intuitive portent of impending doom.'

    Me too Angie, me too.
    I love your studio. Truly creative people NEVER have a pristine studio!
    I want a studio ((whine))

    Forgive me, I seem to be in a strange mood today. If I had the money, I would buy an impulsive psychic reading for myself today. Instaed, I'm going to buy myself some flowers for Zoe's birthday tomorrow..

    love me

  3. Yup, you are lovely. (to the tune of Bob Marley)

  4. I call this feeling 'the Shetland Isles' from when I was 18 years old and I suddenly had the opportunity to go and live on a very remote farm on Shetland for a month. Now whenever I have any kind of anxiety or looming deadline I feel an overwhelming desire to run away to Shetland again. I'm sorry you're having a worrisome time, my friend.

    If Sam hasn't already read it I highly recommend 'The Sparrow' by Mary Doria Russell - a wonderful sci-fi novel.

    I love that print, I love your studio and I love your creativity - thank you for inspiring me to take on new creative challenges too.

    So much love xxoo

  5. I love your studio, and your print. I hope it's a promise kept.

  6. I love the print and you are beyond lovely. xo

  7. Oh those THE SKY IS FALLING moments. Yup. No fun. Definitely exacerbated by a futuristic sci-fi reading husband.

    Hope that some of those little anxieties get shaken off and tumble uselessly to the ground where they can wave their angry legs uselessly as you wave your print and postcard back at them. You are lovely. xo

  8. Heh, you think your workspace is messy, one day I'll post a photo of the bomb site that I work in...

    Angie, I too could have written this, although Ray yearns for a shotgun rather than a crossbow.


  9. Oh yes, you are lovely. And I can so relate to this post. Lately I have been so busy, when all I want to do is hide in bed all day with the covers up. I wish I could invite you around for lunch in my Grief Lair. And I wish I could visit your Fortres of Solitude.

  10. you are so very lovely angie. and i love the poster. it is perfect.

  11. Angie!

    This brought tears to my eyes.

    Thank YOU!

    ... for buying my print..

    ... and for sharing SO openly, so beautifully

    ... and for writing to let me know you'd posted about it.

    Your blog is so brave.

    and you are so lovely...

    All the best,



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