Last night as I sat down to my death doula assignments, I found myself looking longingly at my art table. For all the reasons, I was making myself do my "adult" stuff, my homework, before having the "treat" of painting.
Here's the thing: art is all I ever wanted to do, my whole life. When asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, it was ALWAYS an artist. After 23 years of being a medical illustrator - which I was so proud and honored to do - my urge to make art had dwindled to the tiniest bit of dust. I didn't make any art that wasn’t just sitting alongside children that I can recall from 2017 through to this past year, when I was inspired to try painting.
And now it's all I want to do.
So, as I have done so many times in my life, I listened to that still, small voice... which has saved my ass so many times in the past few years... and decided to withdraw from the death doula program. My heart just wasn't in it - and it is a calling so important and meaningful that it is deserving of all of my attention and focus. I may get back to it someday, who knows?
All I know for sure is that my inner child is GIDDY that I chose her. I have no idea what the future holds, but I love my life, and adding painting to the mix makes it perfect.
