Oh yes… the “I should have started earlier” loop—she’s a loud one, isn’t she? But here’s the truth: you started exactly when you were meant to. Your modern lit degree, your life experience, your beautiful way with words—they’re all part of what makes your art yours. No time has been wasted.
Love and appreciation right back to you. Always cheering you on. 💛
Lynn, this is so perceptive and so helpful. I carry some of these weights, some more heavily than others. Thank you for providing us with some tools to work through them. ❤️ 🙏
Sheryl, thank you so much. I think so many of us carry these quietly—until we name them. I’m really glad this spoke to you and offered something helpful. You’re not alone in it. ❤️
Charlotte, what beautiful awareness you’re bringing to your process. Colored pencils do ask for patience—so many layers, so much blending—and writing can feel the same. Slow, uncertain, but deeply personal.
It sounds like you’re carrying some invisible expectations of how it should look or feel. What if you didn’t need it to be easy? What if your progress—even the struggle—was the art?
Try this: next time you pick up a pencil or pen, ask, What do I want to express—not perfect, but true? Let that guide you, not the outcome.
You’re not behind. You’re becoming. Keep going—I’m cheering you on. 💛
The issue with becoming is the current goo that I hope will end up as a butterfly but at the moment, I don’t even know what I want to express, who I want to become, and it is one of those transitions, as I am nearing 75, that I will find that other path.
In the meantime, I am putting my writing and my art out there so that people can see it, and maybe have a smile or a happy feeling.
But I will consider what it would be like for things not to be easy. Because some of them are becoming difficult. Thanks for your encouragement.
Charlotte, your words carry such wisdom and courage. That “current goo” phase is real—and it’s where so much quiet transformation happens, even when we can’t see it yet. You’re already becoming by showing up, by sharing your art and writing, by letting your voice be seen. That is no small thing. Keep going, even in the fog. What you’re creating matters, and so do you. 🦋
Thank you for the list….it helps to see every last dang one of them that I carry named and ‘splained. I carry ALL of these around in a huge sack and don’t know where to set the sack down and walk on. I gain a little traction and loose one or two only to pick them up again further down the road in boulder form. I WANT TO PAINT FREELY LOOSELY AND SEMI WELL SO BADLY. How can something you want so so much and put such attention into evade you? I study on line in any free workshop I can, read blogs for info and pleasure, watch tutorials, stop all the above for periods and and attempt to paint and it always looks the same…bad…it’s enough to make anyone give up. I have painted well enough in the past to hang a great piece on the wall of my home which is all I desire now but the mojo seems to be gone. I’m experiencing a period of grief with what is called a disenfranchised death (BFFAA) and don’t feel my community of acquaintances quite get that I’m not me and probably will never be me again. I so hoped art would heal that hurt yet it seems to make it worse when I can’t even enjoy the process let alone the results. Should I just give up? I’m a creative at heart and soul with many interests but it is painting that calls my name.
Oh friend, I feel every word of this. That aching desire to paint freely, loosely, semi-well—and the heartbreak when it doesn’t land. You’re not alone in this cycle of trying so hard, only to feel let down. The weight of grief, especially the kind that feels invisible to others, is so heavy. Of course it’s affecting your art. Of course it feels harder right now.
Please don’t give up. But also—maybe don’t push right now. What if your only job was to be with your grief, and gently stay in creative connection without the pressure of results? One mark. One smudge. One whisper of color. That’s still painting.
Your mojo isn’t gone. It’s just quiet. And you’re still a creative at heart—that part of you hasn’t left. It’s just healing.
Thank you for the encouragement…. I’m just in a terrible funk that seems to be never ending….surely at some point in time I’ll land in an acceptable place of grief and yet be able to live joyfully again….not there yet but maybe someday. Thanks again!
You’re so welcome—and I want to gently say, I’m not a healthcare professional, just a life coach who believes with my whole heart that depression is real and worthy of care. If you haven’t already, I really encourage talking to your doctor. You deserve support that truly helps. Grief and funk can feel endless, but they don’t get the final say. I believe joy will find its way back to you, even if it starts in small, quiet moments. You’re not alone. 💛
I’ll be fine someday. I’m anti medications for various reasons so that is not an option. Therapy costs money and time that aren’t in the budget. I do better fighting thru it by myself. …it’s ok…
Thanks for sharing. I get that you’re figuring out what works for you, and that’s valid. Just a reminder—you don’t have to push through everything alone. Even small support, in your way and on your terms, can make things feel a little less heavy
Good morning Lynn
There you are reading my mind again. Thank you!
What’s holding me back is really the whole list.
Good lawd almighty! Lynn. What an insightful blessing you are.
One “hold back” hit I love to play is “ I should have started earlier” got that art degree instead of modern lit degree.
Love ❤️ and appreciation.
Susan
Good morning Susan 💛
Oh yes… the “I should have started earlier” loop—she’s a loud one, isn’t she? But here’s the truth: you started exactly when you were meant to. Your modern lit degree, your life experience, your beautiful way with words—they’re all part of what makes your art yours. No time has been wasted.
Love and appreciation right back to you. Always cheering you on. 💛
—Lynn
Lynn, this is so perceptive and so helpful. I carry some of these weights, some more heavily than others. Thank you for providing us with some tools to work through them. ❤️ 🙏
Sheryl, thank you so much. I think so many of us carry these quietly—until we name them. I’m really glad this spoke to you and offered something helpful. You’re not alone in it. ❤️
I am learning color pencils and finding them so difficult. The same is happening with my writing. I must work through my invisible weights.
Charlotte, what beautiful awareness you’re bringing to your process. Colored pencils do ask for patience—so many layers, so much blending—and writing can feel the same. Slow, uncertain, but deeply personal.
It sounds like you’re carrying some invisible expectations of how it should look or feel. What if you didn’t need it to be easy? What if your progress—even the struggle—was the art?
Try this: next time you pick up a pencil or pen, ask, What do I want to express—not perfect, but true? Let that guide you, not the outcome.
You’re not behind. You’re becoming. Keep going—I’m cheering you on. 💛
The issue with becoming is the current goo that I hope will end up as a butterfly but at the moment, I don’t even know what I want to express, who I want to become, and it is one of those transitions, as I am nearing 75, that I will find that other path.
In the meantime, I am putting my writing and my art out there so that people can see it, and maybe have a smile or a happy feeling.
But I will consider what it would be like for things not to be easy. Because some of them are becoming difficult. Thanks for your encouragement.
Charlotte, your words carry such wisdom and courage. That “current goo” phase is real—and it’s where so much quiet transformation happens, even when we can’t see it yet. You’re already becoming by showing up, by sharing your art and writing, by letting your voice be seen. That is no small thing. Keep going, even in the fog. What you’re creating matters, and so do you. 🦋
Thank you for the list….it helps to see every last dang one of them that I carry named and ‘splained. I carry ALL of these around in a huge sack and don’t know where to set the sack down and walk on. I gain a little traction and loose one or two only to pick them up again further down the road in boulder form. I WANT TO PAINT FREELY LOOSELY AND SEMI WELL SO BADLY. How can something you want so so much and put such attention into evade you? I study on line in any free workshop I can, read blogs for info and pleasure, watch tutorials, stop all the above for periods and and attempt to paint and it always looks the same…bad…it’s enough to make anyone give up. I have painted well enough in the past to hang a great piece on the wall of my home which is all I desire now but the mojo seems to be gone. I’m experiencing a period of grief with what is called a disenfranchised death (BFFAA) and don’t feel my community of acquaintances quite get that I’m not me and probably will never be me again. I so hoped art would heal that hurt yet it seems to make it worse when I can’t even enjoy the process let alone the results. Should I just give up? I’m a creative at heart and soul with many interests but it is painting that calls my name.
Oh friend, I feel every word of this. That aching desire to paint freely, loosely, semi-well—and the heartbreak when it doesn’t land. You’re not alone in this cycle of trying so hard, only to feel let down. The weight of grief, especially the kind that feels invisible to others, is so heavy. Of course it’s affecting your art. Of course it feels harder right now.
Please don’t give up. But also—maybe don’t push right now. What if your only job was to be with your grief, and gently stay in creative connection without the pressure of results? One mark. One smudge. One whisper of color. That’s still painting.
Your mojo isn’t gone. It’s just quiet. And you’re still a creative at heart—that part of you hasn’t left. It’s just healing.
Lynn 💛
Thank you for the encouragement…. I’m just in a terrible funk that seems to be never ending….surely at some point in time I’ll land in an acceptable place of grief and yet be able to live joyfully again….not there yet but maybe someday. Thanks again!
You’re so welcome—and I want to gently say, I’m not a healthcare professional, just a life coach who believes with my whole heart that depression is real and worthy of care. If you haven’t already, I really encourage talking to your doctor. You deserve support that truly helps. Grief and funk can feel endless, but they don’t get the final say. I believe joy will find its way back to you, even if it starts in small, quiet moments. You’re not alone. 💛
I’ll be fine someday. I’m anti medications for various reasons so that is not an option. Therapy costs money and time that aren’t in the budget. I do better fighting thru it by myself. …it’s ok…
Thanks for sharing. I get that you’re figuring out what works for you, and that’s valid. Just a reminder—you don’t have to push through everything alone. Even small support, in your way and on your terms, can make things feel a little less heavy
I’m a loner by nature anyway…I’ll get by but thanks for the encouragement!
Great list!