Stress Manifested

I still have trouble sleeping. And I still cry easily. It seems that any stressor is enough to send me into a lost state. I feel tense but not anxious.

I’m in New York City. My art studio building in Dumbo, Brooklyn, is going condo and my studio mates and I are packing up. Here is the source of my current stress.

When I look at the boxes of collected items, it amazes me that in the four years I was active there, I finished very little. Those years were dark. I didn’t know what PTSD was, and had no idea why it was so difficult to finish projects. I realize now that I had no motivation, or if I had any, it was short-lived.

There are so many different kinds of things in the space. It is as if I was searching for a project that would inspire me enough. Construction tools like a miter saw, which I used to build furniture from found materials and boxes from baseboard moldings, nails and like hardware, keys with no lock to open, fabric, canvas, paints, wood scraps, and more.

I have a week to clear out.

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