Understanding Fear at Rock Bottom

In my life, fear has been crippling. Fear of being laughed at. Fear of being hurt. Fear of rejection. Fear of failure. All of these fears have kept me from reaching out and siezing what was being offered to me behind the veil. Fear is not an obstacle. It is only perceived. There are fears that are irrational, like arachnophobia. Then there are fears that are so well contrived by the fearful person that they are derived from the heart. These fears, like a fear of falling in love, serve as proof that what you are afraid of is exactly what you truly desire. Let me explain.

I have had a fear of committing to life as an artist, with all of the risk, criticism, rejection, and misunderstanding that this life entails. I am afraid of it, because I know it is what I want in my heart, and nobody wants a broken heart. My idea of failure as an artist would be to be mocked, never realize my true potential, and to be perpetually perceived as a novice, having sub-par skill. I am so afraid of committing to this life, only to live my fear, that I would rather use my imagination and live this life in my head, than in reality. I want this life so bad, I am afraid of it. Do you see?

I have other fears, too. The fear of heights. The fear of falling from those heights. The fear of being covered in insects, or rodents crawling on me. The fear of death. The greater fear of living with debilitating disease... But these fears do not cripple me and alter my reality. These fears are not fears that I am particularly interested in conquering any time soon (especially the last two).

I began drawing when I was three years old. I never stopped. I draw my notes in classes and in serious meetings. On napkins. On scratch paper. On walls. Everywhere. I draw from my head what I have never seen before. I draw from memory. From sight. I draw without thinking. And while focused. I love creating. I love color. I love black and white. I love viewing art. I love observing for the purposes of making art. I love the female form, the male form, ugliness, beauty. Everything I can see, I love. I have a newfound love of painting. I have an old love of clay modeling. I am excited to experience old mediums anew, and to experiment. I am excited to be given a second chance at mastering what I love. I will always be a student of art, but now I am trying my hand at being an artist, with all of the responsibilities to self and humanity that come with that title.

Although I have made a commitment to conquer the fear of living life as an artist, I did not come to this point easily. I took a turn for the worst when I decided (after being persuaded by my ego) to really commit to doing something else. Something opposite what I wanted. Something I thought would make me just as happy as creativity would, but something I know in reality makes me unhappy, and has never been able to sustain me. I tried to belittle my dream of being an artist, because I thought this 'something else' was a greater opportunity and would bring more happiness. This 'something else' did not work out. By any means. 'Something else' conspired with the powers that be, and they all rejected me. But this rejection is a blessing in disguise. Now that 'something else' is virtually not an option anymore, I have to focus on me. I have to focus on how I came to such a low point, this feeling unworthy, unloved, and STILL afraid of failure, and I have to focus on how to rehabilitate myself. Let's call it 'art therapy'.

More to come....