This is what my much-loved work area looked like not long ago. Crammed full of paints, gemstones, findings, half-finished bracelets and necklaces and a plethora of tools to create jewelry of all kinds.
Alas, I’ve come to grips with the reality that due to the severity of ME/CFS, it’s too difficult to make and market my jewelry; therefore, I’ve had to drastically cut back. If I am being honest, it’s something I will probably have to let go of completely. This is a tremendous loss as an avenue of creativity. With any chronic illness, you are forced to go through a continuous process of grief, for the unrelenting loss of one piece of your life after another. The contrast between what you were able to accomplish and the actuality of ones present circumstance is an ever widening chasm.
But, as one lovely young lady, Lucy Grove-Jones wrote in a wonderful post, It won’t be the same life I would have had if I’d never become sick, I know that….. because I will have a life. Just watch me.
In that same vein, I’ve begun, slowly retiring my jewelry accoutrements and replacing them with watercolors and brushes. Here in my studio is a required tool for ME/CFS, the ubiquitous couch where much of my life is spent, resting to alleviate symptoms and hopefully, prevent further damage. Books and iPad are piled high, always with hopes that my brain fog is less intense that day so I can delve into them for a small period of time. My art table awaits, for the moments I can again revel in my paints and explore all the gorgeous hues.
I have a life. It is a different kind of life, but it is mine to build anew.