Can't, Won't and the Difference in Building Something That's Ready

I have a terrible habit of saying, "can't," when asked to do something that I "won't" do or be. I don't know if this happens to other people, but for me it is a little smoke and mirrors thing I picked up along the way and I've realized in the last year that it clearly has become a habit worth kicking. The fact is that owning "won'ts" is a leap for anyone trained in people pleasing. Saying that I won't be what someone else wants me to be means that I am willing to upset the apple cart just to be myself. It is nearly painful to even consider it, honestly, but that is what I must do.

Gestation, Oil Pastels on Black Archival Paper, 8" x 10",
2012 (c) Amanda Morris Johnson

What does this have to do with anything? It has something to do with just about everything I do from morning until I fall over in my tracks at night. Right now it is the eggshells I'm walking on with the notion of me as an artist. How to balance the incredible support that I receive for my development as an artist with my need to slide into professionalism slowly. I watch other new artists have shows and opening galleries and selling their work on-line, turning it into very wonderful merchandise while I am sloth-like creeping, sometimes mistaking my own hand as an evil predator that needs to be attacked, and I say, "Thank you, but I can't...because...(and then I make something dire up hoping it will go away)."

I say I can't do a gallery show yet. Really, I won't do it yet. The reason I won't is because I am still developing my art. I feel like I'm just cracking open the doors of perception. I haven't made more than a dozen pieces that I feel begin to express what I'm interested in, enough to continue drawing along those lines. A lot of the drawings I do now are my healing method, a gift to myself after several challenging years, a wandering into darkness, dreams and old stuff. A lot of the drawings I do now are to see if I can do it. It feels like selling this practice, self-absorbed work in a public show is a little bit blow hard of me. Worse than that, it is a fraction of me rather than my whole.

There are consequences when I say I can't do it. I delay on finding the bits and pieces I need to complete the dozen pieces I really like. Everything gets lumped into "can't" but if I start saying "won't" maybe I'll be able to retrieve some of the work from the can't zone after all? Because I choose this won't. I won't do a gallery opening right now and I won't be pushed into believing that this means that I'm blowing off the only opportunity I'll ever have to sell my work. I know myself, and I know that throughout my life I have seemed to be a surprise. I've lurked in the background and observed and worked things out myself and then, trumpets blaring, I come out from behind the curtain with a fully developed whatever it is. This is how I work. The big difference is that instead of saying I "can't" now, I'm going to try a different tact. Now I'm going to say, "Thank you for believing in me! I hold your support like this (and you would see me pantomiming holding a treasure near my face and then bringing it down) in my heart while I'm developing my skills and talent. When I'm ready, you'll be among the first to hear, but right now I won't be doing...that...with my art." And I hope that it is understood.

What am I building that is so important? I am building myself, that's what. I have gone through a near total destruction of everything I was for two decades. It has taken a divorce, two major surgeries, and a financial loss of "Job-like" proportions. I have amazing angels around me, my husband, my children, extended family and friends, you, who, like a chrysalis, have held the metaphorical goo that became me, while I located the things of me that remained. Just like a butterfly I have been rebuilding into something new.

Chrysalis, Oil Pastel on Archival Paper, 9" x 12",
2013 (c) Amanda Morris Johnson

Everyone knows that if we open a chrysalis before a butterfly fights its way out, then the butterfly will never fly, but the urge to help is always there. Trust me. Do not help a butterfly fight its way out of a chrysalis. No. Never. Just watch and your own heart will expand exponentially.

It is not that I can't fight my way out of my chrysalis. It is not that I won't EVER fight my way out of my chrysalis. It is that I'm not quite there yet, and I won't fight my way out of it until I'm ready. Maybe it will be tomorrow. Maybe it will be next year. I'll know though, when it is the perfect time.

When I say "I won't..." please view it as a matter of trust, not as a negative, or a never. It is going to work out fine in the long run. I know it will. I still have my digits, my mouth and eyes, and somehow out of this goo, I am growing wings. I have a good feeling about this.