The Constant Inner Dialogue

Are you an over thinker too?

By overthinking, I mean the constant inner dialogue that runs in circles inside your head—the one you’d sometimes love to silence. I spend a lot of time alone in the studio, but I rarely feel alone because of that relentless chatter. And now, as I write this, I’m wondering… am I oversharing as well as overthinking? Wow, it’s exhausting!

Lately, I’ve been making an effort to write these thoughts down, hoping that gaining perspective might bring a little peace—at least long enough for me to get some work done. I’m about three-quarters of the way through my current collection of paintings, set to be exhibited next month. So much has gone into this collection—not just hours, days, and weeks of painting, but the emotional and personal weight behind it.

The truth is, I started these paintings in a less-than-ideal state of mind. I am SO tired. The last 18 months have placed me in the dream position of having my work in multiple galleries, but I had no idea the pressure I would put on myself in this environment. Painting sales have become my sole income, forcing me to confront deeply ingrained beliefs about worthiness, identity, and my place in the world. And then, on top of all that, comes the stage of life where I—like so many women—am asking: Who am I, now that I don’t need to consider the needs of others before my own?

Transformation is Exhausting

Transformation is exhausting. We are living through a time of immense change, both globally and personally. I find myself constantly questioning my feelings—are they valid, or are they just old patterns I need to unlearn? And yet, for me, the hardest work happens in front of the canvas. Just when I think I’ve figured things out—had an epiphany, cracked the code, discovered how I’ll paint forevermore—the universe throws something new my way, and suddenly, my paintings shift again. Not necessarily in a bad way, but definitely in a way that challenges me, especially when creating a cohesive body of work for an exhibition.

More often than not, my studio time feels like a battle between what I think I should be painting and what I actually feel on any given day. It’s a strange mystery—how we know that forcing ourselves into expectations never works, yet we forget over and over, until the process becomes unbearable, and we remember once again.

As in life, acceptance seems to be the only way to find any kind of momentary peace. Listen to your feelings. Listen to your paintings. They will tell you what they need. Over the past few days, I’ve accepted that it’s okay for this collection to reflect my inner turmoil. Some days, I focus on beauty. Some days, I crave structure—something that gives me a sense of control. And then, like yesterday, I just want to break every rule and throw myself into wild, free brushstrokes.

The layers of these paintings bring to life that inner conflict and transformation. Some days, rules are followed. Other days, they are broken. Darkness is punctuated by bursts of light. Structure fades into the background as chaos takes center stage. And yet, through it all, beauty remains—always present, always offering warmth and calm amidst the storm.

Does it matter that this collection no longer looks as I imagined when I started? Not at all. In fact, it would be strange if it did. I rarely feel like the same person from one end of the day to the next—how could I expect my work to stay the same over the course of months? As long as it feels true, then that is my mission. My goal is always to share work that carries good energy and light, but above all, it must be honest.

I know I’m deep in my feelings right now. I wonder if my work will resonate with you. I hope so.

My studio this morning as I am writing...let the battle commence x