A husband, father, mixed-media-light-box-digital-film-making artist, and newbie entrepreneur.
It’s been a whirlwind couple of months. An extraordinarily wild year. One of excruciating growth and existential transformation. A dizzying life-altered-never-look-back kind of year. One that irrevocably reshaped every part of my life.
I left the church.
Having spent most of my life in the clergy - it was time to embrace a new challenge. Discover a new me. Which meant leaving the old me behind. Truth is, I both loved and loathed my work in the church. Being a pastor is a high calling and a privilege. I enjoyed so much of what I did and was able to do. Namely, the who - or people - that I was able to do the what with. The relationships I formed in the church are life-lasting and I will carry them with me to my grave. But a melting pot of ideas, creativity, critique, and expression - the church is not. And I am artist. My soul was starved. It was time to move on.
Life got expensive.
Really expensive. And we got poor. A convergence of opportunity and circumstance had us moving from our beloved church house - far from Ontario, friends, comfort - to the literal shores of Nova Scotia. After 12 weeks of homelessness we were finally fortunate to buy a giant 163 year old house. The “Ship Captain’s House”. Sitting atop a hill. Just 200 feet from the ocean. A gorgeous old heat sucking monster with vintage cast iron rads and 9 foot ceilings. A wondrous beauty she is.
With a living room studio just for me…
Here’s the real truth: I’ve had this deep down desire my whole life long to go out on my own. Set my own course. Run a self sustaining creative studio. Making art. Writing books. And making movies. And (most importantly) make a living while doing it. I have made a lot of art. Written a couple of books. Even launched several “business ventures”. But I have just never been able to really take a go at it.
I’ve got this wicked case of self sabotage.
I’ve been paralyzed by doubt.
I’ve been self loathing.
Full of fear.
Of starting.
Failing.
Or being found out that Im just a wannabe hack.
Some of that’s just me. But a lot of those traits were a result of undiagnosed ADHD.
For 38 years I was suffering. Living my life, obvious. Chasing dreams I could never catch. Masking a front with a persona I didn’t life. And giving up on all of it because it was just too hard. Like digging for gold in an empty mountain that you know is empty but you keep digging because you’re too afraid to stop. I just didn’t know I could.
All along it was (largely) just my weak executive function, erratic energy levels, warbled motivations, uncontrollable hyper-focus, unmonitored “default mode network”, and those wicked dopamine chases - and worse dopamine crashes. Like a captive in my own body. A slave to my brain. I always knew something was wrong. But I didn’t know what.
It’s an old reference, perhaps a bit tired, but Morpheus from The Matrix explains it best: What you know you can't explain, but you feel it. You've felt it your entire life, that there's something wrong with the world. You don't know what it is, but it's there, like a splinter in your mind, driving you mad…
My undiagnosed ADHD was unapologetically driving me into the ground. Face first. Thank the Lord, I am free.
And after (almost) a year of medication, therapy, research, and self-compassion, I know myself in a way I had no paradigm to understand. And am on a path I didn’t think possible.
I am finally in the position to start AND SUSTAIN a creative venture. I’ve got a business account. Products. A marketing strategy and campaign already underway. I’ve got contacts. A seat at the local maker’s market. And a proposal in the works to rent a downtown harbour-side shop & studio.
Jumping into this world is terrifying. The world of self-employed creative entrepreneur. But I have to try. So here I am.
