Long time no see, melodramatic duck

I became a tattoo artist, and still am one. I find myself in a weird position though, because I’m still not happy making art. I find a very fleeting sense of joy when I’m in the process of tattooing, but the marketing side of things is so depressing. I feel little to no motivation to do anything, make flash, take walk-ins, everything related to the tattoo process. I feel like an imposter, because there are so many people dying to get into the tattoo industry who could be in my place right now. Maybe I’m lazy, maybe I’m just ungrateful. But hey, it’s how I feel.

Art is still such a big part of me. I find myself wanting to draw a lot, but I’m always brought down by my feelings of how I’m not as good, or at the very least not as successful as my colleagues. It’s like I’m right under the surface of a glass ceiling (no pun intended), watching as others break through it. I’ve come to learn through a lot of aspects in my life that perspective is everything, and maybe if I just changed my outlook on it I’d relate more positively to it. But that’s so much easier said than done. I managed to get there in my romantic relationship, but my career has been a difficult topic for me. It’s crazy how things change; many years ago my career was a sure thing and my romantic side was struggling. Maybe I can’t have both.

Anyway. I’m trying to spend less time feeling sorry for myself. I’m trying to make the most of my life. A recent traumatic experience really helped put things into perspective, and gave me the opportunity to see that I can trust myself. I shouldn’t always put others’ opinions above my own, because even the most well-intentioned people can unintentionally gaslight you into constantly doubting yourself. Obviously it’s not my fault, what happened to me. But there are many ways in which I allowed it to happen by believing myself the problem and bowing my head to others. If I stand up for myself, trust my intuition, follow my heart, do what makes me happy, I can’t go wrong. I’m so much stronger now, and yeah a part of me is lost forever. But it was replaced with resilience and self-understanding. It showed me my capacity for forgiveness and love, and that’s a beautiful thing.

In all of this self-discovery, I started having recurring dreams. I kept dreaming I was back in high school, or at least running into people from my high school. Kept seeing my high school crush. It was weird. Nothing ever happened, I’d see him across a hall or walking on my way to work. But every time it brought up a feeling of deep nostalgia. I didn’t know what it meant for the longest time. My friends thought it was a symptom of getting married, that I was saying good-bye to my single life. That didn’t feel right though, and I asked my therapist about it. I know Freud was wrong about like everything, but there’s something to be said for the brain constantly returning in its deep state of REM sleep to the one person who sculpted a lot of my developmental thoughts. We talked about what he could mean. And in retrospect it was obvious.

He was my muse for so long. My artwork, stories, most of all music was founded in the heartbreaking attachment I felt to this human. Not only that, during my fundamental obsession with him I was a happier person, overall. I wasn’t lonely, loved my family and my friends, had an absolute goal of what I wanted to do with my life. I was going to be a musician, plain and simple. Film scores, video game music, singer-songwriting. They were all in my wheelhouse, a deep passion of mine. I had lots of musical friends to help support and encourage my goals. My parents supported me. I had the support of music teachers - until I didn’t.

I could say a lot about my music teacher, whose name will be Mr. May for now. But I don’t want to really give this relationship any more energy than I already have. Put simply: Mr. May treated me like a teacher’s pet, and when he found a new one I was the most annoying scumbag ever to him. My self confidence and trust in myself dissolved, and I was suddenly very lost. It was a few years after that that my love of expressing myself artistically and sharing my work with the world started to die. I started relating negatively to deviantArt, treating it like a place just to prove how bad my art was and how unsuccessful I was. I thought following the tattoo artistry path would stoke the fires once more, but here they are, cooling slowly and painfully.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my recurring dreams. I think that unlike most people, my most self-confident and assured years were in high school. I keep dreaming of my high school crush because I miss that time of my life. It’s almost like the security of a healthy outlook on romantic relationships killed a lot of who I was. It was worth it, because now I get to take a new journey of self-discovery with a wonderful and amazing partner at my side.

Ah, maybe I’ll stop boring you now. I know it all sounds melodramatic, but what I’m trying to say is that I’m rediscovering things that made me happy. I’m trying to look at things I enjoy with a better outlook, with less self-deprecation. I want to create things without the purpose of selling, being successful, being better than others. I want to write for myself, and not care that others don’t read it. I want to create species and worlds and stories without worrying about how popular they might be. I want to enjoy my art because I like it.

Anyway. If you read my ramblings, thanks for doing so. I look forward to being more active again on dA, to shedding myself of anhedonia and finding joy in the things I like. Doesn’t sound so difficult, does it?

(:

-Wren