Inktober drawing of a standing desk from my Instagram
Fear of pain or pursuit of pleasure?
Perhaps these, more than anything else in the world, motivate humans. Our behaviour, our drives, our actions. You either move towards something, or you move away from it. There is no middle path. If you choose to stand still, it will come to you, or it will leave you. Either way, movement is involved, even if you are not providing it.
My desire to be massively accepted and be looked up to is motivated by fear. I don’t want to be alone. I want to avoid the pain of being left behind. I fear being discarded.
Adults are bastards. Adults, especially, who have a grievance against your parents, are especially horrible creatures. In their depraved desire to bring down someone they think unworthy, they scar others. And consider it to be fair game.
I’m still learning to deal with the ghosts of my past. No, it was not especially traumatic, at least not in the physical and emotional abuse sense. However, they did scar me. And the incidents shaped me into who I am today.
Who is quite different from whom I wanted to be. That though, is another post for another day.
I want to talk to you about this picture.
My heart was thumping as I drew it. It took me over 30 minutes to get it right, even though I had a clear image of what I thought it was going to be. However, the reality is different from the image in my head. Lines in my head, for instance, were clearer. Now though, this one’s a bit… fudgy.
And that’s how life works. What you see is not always what you get. Which is kinda fine, unless you’re a designer or an artist who specialises in realism. But I’m disgressing.
Confronting my personal heart has always left me breathless. My heart, unlike the heart of the boy in The Alchemist speaks to me of fear always. Of the need to be cautious. To protect myself from being hurt again, imagined or not.
But there are days, days like these, when my heart encourages me to bare it. When it says to give thanks for the blessings I have received. It’s a gentle nudge, but I often find myself being swept away whenever I listen to my heart then.
So, what’s so personal about this drawing?
It’s the breaking of a chain. The acknowledgement of a way of thinking that has not served me. Or rather, that has held me back.
I have issues with preconceived notions. In that, I form them and don’t let go. This applies mainly to me, and not anyone else. I have a preconceived notion of how I should write. Why I should write. Or how to act. Things I should draw. Things I shouldn’t say.
I allowed my writing, my interests, and perhaps more stupidly, my skills to stagnate because of this. I received a few hard knocks, and then I went into my shell to hide and lick my wounds. I said I would try again, but I never did.
Like almost drowning and then using that as an excuse not to ever learn swimming (which is a true story, by the way).
I’m learning to trust myself again. To allow myself to breathe for myself, and not for others. To take form again.
And hopefully I will get better at it.