I am an artist, and I have been since childhood. Art had sustained me (emotionally, not financially) through major periods of my life. In high school, art class was something that I looked forward to daily. I attended art school at Northern Illinois University, then moved to Chicago, which, amidst my misery and heartbreak, I continued to create mixed-media assemblages. I spent my 20's in Atlanta trying to sell my paintings, but not having any idea how. In Brooklyn, years late, I spent the better part of a year exploring the city and new mediums. Here in Massachusetts, I lingered a full year trying to build an arts business, including having a solo show. And I wouldn't change any of that, because all of those experiences tell me that this is who I am and where I belong. But things are changing rapidly.

In August, I got a position as an elementary school art teacher. I love my job. I wasn't sure if I was going to love it at first, but it turns out that I do. Teaching is in my soul, and it makes me feel at home. But I wake up every morning feeling guilty that I am not doing any painting. I used to do it every day, but now...nothing. I tell myself that I am taking a hiatus. I am thinking about my options, processing, and having experiences to begin anew.

Many times, when I sit down to write in my journal (I began journaling 3 years ago via The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron and it changed my life), I get the same feeling. What do I start with? And I look at my planner to help. Journaling for me is not a diary, it is a way to get my thoughts out to the Universe so as to free up the places in my mind to make room for creativity. But sometimes, my journal comes off like a diary. I try not to judge myself to harshly, as Julia encourages, but it's hard.

People ask me, "Do you still paint?" and I have to say, "No". Then I feel guilty again, like I am letting myself down. But I try to justify it by listing all of the things I continue to do, such as starting a new collaboration with a friend of mine and doing some prototypes for a new business. I am hosting an open house holiday studio sale and I am spending more time reading for inspiration and less time watching the news.

In the end, I make trade-offs. I find a new balance. And that balance is flexible. I wish I felt energetic at night to work in my studio, but so far, I don't. I have to admit that I am taking a hiatus from  the physical act of painting, but I know that I will eventually come back to it. I always do. There is an ebb and flow to where I put my energy. That's where I can find peace and joy in what I am doing currently, and remain patient that something new will come along.