When I was young, my father said I needed to pick something and become the best at it, and I could see that I wasn’t the best artist in my high school. And if I wasn’t the best in high school, how could I possibly be good enough to make art my career? Ditto for my writing for the school literary magazine. I was pretty good, but not good enough, I thought. I decided that continuing to pursue art was a waste of time.

Architecture was creative and a business where you could earn a living. I reasoned that this direction would please both me and my parents. Dad was happy with my choice but eventually I discovered that my heart just wasn’t in it. I remember looking around the office at my co-workers one day during an internship in an architect’s office. All of them were drafting up the principal’s ideas—except for the principal who sketched ideas for an hour or so every morning before turning his attention to sales. Nope, I thought. Not one of them has a job that I’d like to have.

This is where I spent most of my career. My writing skills made me invaluable in content marketing and after a few years, I was able to launch my own freelance business.

It worked for a few months, until my inner critic used a critique from an art teacher as an opportunity to hijack me. “You will never be a great artist,” he said. I quit my art classes and refocused my energy on my business. Soon, my business was doing well enough that I was able to support my husband, daughter, and I—without being tied to a location.

I told myself that this would be my big opportunity for a reset—to live a creative life. My husband took over the island ice cream and souvenir store on the island and I made homemade fudge sauce for the sundaes. On the island, we were surrounded by writers, musicians, and artists of all kinds, so it was easy to weave art practice into my life while keeping my business going—if not daily, at least in spurts. I had some essays and food writing published and attended lots of writing workshops. It gave me great joy, but I still had a sense that because I wasn’t making any money from my art, I was wasting my time. So my day job continued to be my #1 priority.

I self-published a mini-memoir, My Mother Served Gouda When Company Came. After reading Fun Home by Alison Bechdel, I got inspired to pick up a pencil and start drawing again. I drew comics for a while, then transitioned back to painting. I also started a novel about the goddess Athena. I just couldn’t shake the urge to create. But I also couldn’t silence that little internal critic who kept making me feel guilty with his accusation that I was wasting my time. He said my day job was what I was best at—and that I should continue to invest my energy there.

It happened when I was cleaning out the dresser in the extra bedroom. I was sitting on the floor, sorting the contents of four drawers filled with paintings I’d created over the past three years. As I surveyed my work, I became giddy remembering the fun I’d had creating each piece.

It was a walk down memory lane in the best possible way. I grinned—hard. And I probably shed a tear or two, too. It didn’t matter what my paintings looked like. Each one embodied just a little bit of me and a healthy dollop of joy.

The measure of the value of a piece of art you create isn’t what someone else will pay for it. And it isn’t how good the work is. The measure of the value of a piece of art YOU create is how much bliss YOU feel while you create it. And if you get joy from creating, it is NEVER, EVER, a waste of time.

I’d just never given myself permission to enjoy it without guilt. To think of myself as a creative. Well, I thought. Now is the time. LET THE ENJOYING BEGIN…

You probably think that the next thing I’m going to tell you is that I quit my day job and am now pursuing art full time. That hasn’t happened—and it might never happen. I’m not even sure if I want that to happen. Needing to earn money from my art to pay the bills might just squeeze all of the happiness out of it. If there is one thing that being house-bound because of COVID makes you realize is that bliss is precious and the sources of that bliss need to be nourished and protected.

Once I’ve made enough money to pay the bills, the rest of my time is MINE.

Of course this shift requires an ongoing dialog with my internal critic. For someone tiny and invisible, he is very persistent. But I’m working on that too. And little by little, I’m making some headway with him. I’m sure they’ll be setbacks. There always are. But right now, things are looking really good!