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Been trying to unpack my anxiety/my feelings of malaise. Not so much in where they're from but how to spot them. Wondering how I got to this place of picking at myself--constantly picking. Like literally, till I'm hurt all over. I don't feel care free and light. In fact, I'm not even sure I feel good. I don't know what to make of it. My life bears no resemblance to the life I left. It is seemingly all for the better. It would seem. But I'm actually often quite depressed. And I'm not sure why. I seem to have almost everything. I have two good jobs. I have a spotless boyfriend who treats me utterly correctly. I have a loving family. I have a safe apartment. Even an art studio! I have many friends. I have food to eat. Yet, I feel impossibly old, out of shape, and controlling. I'm angry. Why? I'm resentful. Why? I expect everyone to disregard me. Why? I'm working on a new body of work. Of course, I'm anticipating the usual studio visits and public scrutiny. But I'm in no rush to be judged. Instead, I'm working very slowly and fastidiously. The standards are so ridiculously high it seems. Gotta unpack this despair.
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