It’s nothing new when I talk about my never-ending “to-do” list. It always changes and morphs anew, but it definitely never shrinks. And it behaves like a tide of overwhelm. Not the whole time, of course—hence the ebbing and the flowing. At least, that’s how I remember it when I lived near the ocean.

It’s strange that I’ve been able to get things done these past weeks while I’ve been so depressed, but I have. Sometimes, that’s the only way I can get out of bed. If I have a bunch of shit to do, I have a reason to face the day, and I really do need something to look forward to.

I like that my next show is so far into the future. It’s good for me. It gives me that much more longevity. And because the show is supposed to be addressing healing, it’s going to give me some time to meditate on the theme. I really need to take that introspection seriously.

I’ve been keeping a book of notes specifically for this show, and I have a section heading, what am I trying to heal from? It’s a great question that I keep going back to. I try to get honest with myself and add to it when possible. The list is getting interesting. Other than the obvious items, like past trauma, family, illness, and loss, it’s all of my preoccupations. I’d love to start healing from that shit.

I talk about goals being a “need,” but I’m way too obsessive about goals, and that’s actually a problem. It’s great to have goals. It’s okay to have ambitions. But deep down, I know how unhealthy it can be for me. I still have so many insecurities about needing legitimacy and having to be seen. I mean, yes, we all need and want to be seen. That’s natural, I’m sure. However, I know there are deep wounds in me that need healing. Those wounds have everything to do with never being valued by family. And this is why I seek to be valued by others, which is what grosses me out about myself the most.

I mean, most people don’t care about that. As long as Mommy and Daddy love and value you, does it ever matter what the world outside thinks about you? Probably not.

Oftentimes, I apply this concept to drivers on the road—people who make sudden left turns in front of you, cut you off, or hold you up in a fast-food drive-thru. These people think they are the only people in the world. They don’t care about you or what you think of them. It’s probably because Mommy and Daddy loved and valued them very, very much. Ha ha.

But back to my lists, my never-ending lists; they keep getting added to, even though shit gets crossed off as life goes by. The list then becomes my life. But if I don’t refer to these lists, I completely forget what I’m supposed to do for the day, and my responsibilities go by the wayside. I think I need to make separate lists for art and life or something. Every damn thing is blending into one. It’s making me tired. Maybe it’s the recent Covid booster. I’ve been tired for days.

Okay, so here are some pictures, because I never show enough pictures. …My easel—all put together, the two floor toms that are the base for the sculpture I’m working on, and the new bitchen utility table for the garage.