Things are better now than they have been in more than three
years. I’m working full time, most of the bills are caught up, and we’ll have a
nice Christmas. I feel anxious, though,
and I can’t figure out why.
Last year at this time, I was working at Sanchez Art
Center , doing remote work
for a university, and stressing over the upcoming holiday. We had very little
money to spare, but I've also got small scale “holiday trauma” leftover from
when I was a kid and my parents decided to become Jehovah’s Witnesses. There is nothing quite like being banished to
the school library at 7 years old when the rest of your class is having a
Christmas party. Shelving Christmas for
any reason was out of the question. I
stressed over it instead.
So, I spent last year’s holiday stressing over the possibility
of letting my family down. Of course,
they didn't feel that way.
I pulled a halfway decent holiday out of my ass, but I paid
a price for it in stress. A number of
art commissions just in the nick of time financed much of it. I am grateful for the folks who asked for my
work, but I resented having to fence my art in to make a buck. Now, art is the
last thing on my mind, as though doing it under pressure has ruined the
experience forever.
I’m grateful to be working, but I resent the time spent
doing it. I've got this pre-menopausal
thing going on, too, and lately I’m moody, fatigued, or aggravated a lot. I've
got all this icky resentment sort of oozing out of my body language and words
all the time, and I know Leslie’s just about had enough of it.
I wasn't happy when I was unemployed, and I’m cranky
now.
So, what’s my problem?
Maybe I’m just tired.
This morning, I bumped into a three page article on Mata
Amritanandamayi aka Ammachi in Oprah’s magazine, and I remember Her (Ammachi) saying
that oceans of seekers would be toward Her coming soon. They will now, no doubt.
Maybe I just need a hug.
I hope writing this will help purge the resentment from my
system. There’s a bunch of Christmas
spirit out there waiting to be let in.
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