Lately I’ve been struggling. Trying to figure out if my voice is worth hearing. If my words are worth reading. Is the life I’m living inspiring? Am I adding value to the world? Can I help people with what I have to say? Looking for external validation. Then I remembered why I write, why I fight to be heard, it’s an expression of me. Raw and personal. Its letting my thoughts escape the jumble that my mind can be. If I can make you laugh and smile it’s a bonus. Every day I create. I make art to fill the world with solid thoughts. To let them free. To help with my anxiety. Almost every day I clean paint from under my nails. Washing away the colours. Until I start again. Make a new mess. Try again. Until I’m happy with what I’ve made. Each new morning is a chance to be better and do better. I’m three weeks away from my charity art exhibition, two months away from turning 30 and six months from publishing my first book.
I hope you’ll join me as I take this blog in a new direction.