It’ll work itself out, eventually.

I distinctly recall a certainty that if I could know, I could understand. That persistent B in math should have been a clue that this was not the case, but no. It took a few more decades and a lot more effort and frustration to get through to me that I could know a thing and still fail to understand it, myself included. I seem to just go along all wrapped up in chains about one thing or other, almost paralyzed no matter what sense I can tell myself and know in my heart to be true. And then one day, for whatever reason, that chain that felt immovable can simply loosen and fall away like the imaginary construct that it was. It’s almost magical. Sometimes it’s a big thing, like when I quit smoking. I remember sitting there looking at that last cigarette. My own doubts and nervousness sitting there with me so solid they felt like another person. Him sitting on the sofa sure as the sunrise I would fail. I woke up the next morning someone else. I just wasn’t a smoker anymore. He was actually a little bummed. lol Two months later he threw his hands up and quit, too. What brings it all to mind today is just a little thing, though. You know I’ve got loads of art supplies. You know why I’ve got loads of art supplies? Because most of them, I have been too paralyzed to use much of. I would try, naturally create something that showed what a beginner I was, and immediately feel unworthy of those supplies. I would just be “wasting” them. Here and there I’d make another attempt, try to focus on the joy I felt regardless of the outcome, but again months and months would pass while dust collected on the desk and I would look at those beautiful colors and all those blank pads of paper and just choke on my unworthiness. Knowing that one cannot get better without practice made no difference at all. Years I have struggled against those chains, and I find all of a sudden that magic thing has happened again and those chains are gone. I just realized it today. I’ve got three hideous starts and explorations already, and all I can think of is the mad scientist aspect of watercolors. I need some rubbing alcohol and salt and straws and cling wrap. I made a mistake on those flowers but I know how to do it better next time. I’m not intimidated by the unfinished landscape with the purple river and wonky trees or that color scheme I thought was going to be pretty but looked like the visual equivalent of fingernails on a chalkboard. I’m excited. Excited. When was the last time I was excited?? The oddity of that sensation, the lightness of it, the absence of the weighty guilt…I just floated on it for three days before it hit home what’s missing. I am, in this small way, someone else again. I think as humans go, I know myself fairly well, but I’ve come to accept that I will just never fully understand myself. Maybe all that trying to know propels me down paths I don’t notice until they unlock chains. For today anyway, I can honestly say I don’t mind not understanding how it works, so long as it offers up a nice surprise now and then. 🤷‍♀🙃☺ Whatever, right? 😂