Here it is, the first week of January and I am sitting in a seat of worry. Shel Silverstien called them the “What If’s”, and they are circling around me. I would like to think that there are artists out there who never sit in the lonely room with those but I’m sure I really don’t know any. 

What if I need to get a real job? This one sits like a lump of coal in the bottom of my belly. Working for someone else would be easier, not like when I had the uncertainty of youth. I’m old enough now that I would know how to ask questions and make better decisions. The thought of having someone pay my bills for me, ie; taxes, insurance and a 401k is warming on one level. The thought of having to give up my art practice makes tears well up in my eyes. I can feel them gathering as I write this. Who knew I would love doing art so much?

What if I can’t get my work in the right place ever again? Boy, this one really sucks. I am always worried about this one. Artists and friends tell me that what I do is very special and amazing but, that isn’t always enough. I want to paint what I choose and I don’t want to keep what I paint. I’d like to be able to afford to give it away but that isn’t something that is reasonable currently. I imagine all of my inventory rising up and swallowing me, never selling… This one can keep me up at night.

What if I am nothing but an expensive hobbyist? Wow the guilt of me dragging my husband into deep debt and us dying there. He reassures me that every time I wallow in worry like this, something breaks loose. He held my hand, kissed my cheek and said this happens every time. What a jewel he is, I know I am lucky to have him.

It is the new year and we are encouraged to make a resolution. Every year it is the same, I won’t give this up. I had a pretty good year and I did sell. I found new markets, new collectors (Thank you all) and made new connections and friends, lots of friends. I know that this is what I want and I also know my husband is right. I look at my records and the new choices I have made to keep going and recognize that it will be alright. It has been so far, I just need to keep the faith. I also need to recognize that there are others, like me who are trying not to listen to the “What if’s”.

Whatif by Shel Silverstein

Last night, while I lay thinking here,

some Whatifs crawled inside my ear

and pranced and partied all night long

and sang their same old Whatif song:

Whatif I'm dumb in school?

Whatif they've closed the swimming pool?

Whatif I get beat up?

Whatif there's poison in my cup?

Whatif I start to cry?

Whatif I get sick and die?

Whatif I flunk that test?

Whatif green hair grows on my chest?

Whatif nobody likes me?

Whatif a bolt of lightning strikes me?

Whatif I don't grow talle?

Whatif my head starts getting smaller?

Whatif the fish won't bite?

Whatif the wind tears up my kite?

Whatif they start a war?

Whatif my parents get divorced?

Whatif the bus is late?

Whatif my teeth don't grow in straight?

Whatif I tear my pants?

Whatif I never learn to dance?

Everything seems well, and then

the nighttime Whatifs strike again!