#it’s the insomnia/fragmented sleep but also the exhaustion of this stupid work thing

[whentherewerebicycles]

ok reworked a big chunk of my cover letter and then ran out of steam (I have slept… so badly all week) but I’m feeling positive about it. I really don’t want to spend a ton of time obsessing over it so I’m going to try to finish it tomorrow after my morning meetings. I have an annoying work meeting first thing (about the situation I rage-cried about earlier today) but then I get to follow it up with a meeting with my all-time fave student. those calls always leave me feeling sooo happy and energized so I should be in a great headspace for finishing the letter. I ideally want to submit tomorrow but if I feel the materials aren’t quite there for whatever reason I’ll allow myself the weekend to tinker. I am qualified for this job! and pretty sure I would greatly enjoy literally every aspect of it!! cross your fingers for me!!!

[haught-n-cold-gay]

tell me how

My Catradora multi-chapter fic found on A03

Summary: 

Adora's a hardcore workaholic defense attorney fighting to keep innocent people out of prison.

Catra's an angst-ridden private investigator trying to make ends meet.

Both of them are hell-bent on saving three rookies from prison and taking down the corrupt cops that arrested them.

The only problem?

Ten years ago Catra and Adora ended whatever they had and they are a little pissed about having to work together again. And for some reason, the attraction that was there ten years ago hasn't subsided. It's a complete mess. They're a mess.

Chapter 1: i can’t call you a stranger

Darkness usually beckoned people to sleep, but Adora was different. She always had been. She felt comforted by the fact that when she was awake, the rest of the world was asleep. She liked the silence; the way that no one could seem to bother her at such a late time. Yet somehow, she never felt lonely in the depths of night. The stars had kept her company ever since she was young. Even as an adult she relied on the stars, even when they were barely visible with all the city light.

Late into the night or morning (Adora couldn’t tell), her eyes burned as she stared at the screen. She wanted to fight against her bodily functions, hating her eyes for having the audacity to feel tired. She had work to do. She always had work to do.

But Glimmer texted her. Glimmer always texted her right when Adora was getting somewhere in her work.

Glimmer: Adora, it’s 1:00, please come home

Adora did what Adora did best. She ignored the text. Glimmer tended to worry about things that had nothing to do with her, especially when it came to her best friend. Most days, Adora loved that about her. Tonight, she was annoyed. She was so close, she felt it deep in her bones. She was going to find something that would prove the innocence of--

She got another text and groaned.

Bow: Glimmer is killing me, Adora! Don’t make me come pick you up!

Fuck. She would have liked to believe that Bow was just kidding, but knowing him, his threats (since he rarely gave threats) were never empty. Bow was the nicest guy in the world, but he was just as stubborn as Adora. If he believed he was doing the right thing, there was nothing anyone could do to stop him. It was what made him a ruthless (and empathetic) lawyer and good friend (albeit, a little frustrating sometimes).

Murmuring curses to herself, she gathered up all of her shit and texted her friends that she was on her way back to their apartment. She didn’t want to stop working when she was this close, but she also knew she had a habit of passing out when she doesn’t sleep for a few days. It didn’t happen often, but it happened often enough for everyone else besides her to consider it a ‘problem’.

Her eyes were betraying her as she drove home. It was a short five-minute drive, but the number of times she had to smack herself was frightening. Even with her music up all the way, she almost fell asleep. It wasn’t really a problem, though. She was fine.

“You look like--”

“Shit,” Adora answered as she entered the small apartment that she shared with her best friends and colleagues. “I know. I was so close with the Yates case, you know.”

Glimmer had her hands on her hips and her ‘mom’ face on. “I’m sure you were. Go to bed, Adora.”

Adora rolled her eyes and tried to remember how much she loved Glimmer on a good day. Glimmer was her first friend at the firm. Glimmer was the first person who gave her a chance. Glimmer was crafty and wicked and brilliant and Adora loved her. But dammit, Glimmer was the ‘mom’ friend and Adora did not appreciate being treated like a child. She didn’t want anyone to take care of her as if she wasn’t capable of taking care of herself.

“Is Bow sleeping in your--”

“Go to bed, Adora!” Glimmer (though almost a whole foot shorter) grabbed a hold of her and pushed her toward the direction of Adora’s incredibly tiny room. Usually, Adora was much stronger than her friend with pink tips in her hair, but she barely had any fight left in her.

She had enough energy to get into the bathroom, but was terrified to look at herself in the mirror. She didn’t have to see herself to know that she probably looked like a mess. She didn’t have to look at the mirror to know that her blue eyes were probably slightly red with dark circles underneath and that her blonde hair had random strands pulled out of her tight ponytail. She brushed her teeth and washed her face.

Her bed was calling her, practically chanting her name, but when she laid down (with all of her clothes on), she suddenly felt very awake again. She loved the night, but she hated her insomnia. She had always been a bad sleeper, but it had gotten worse over the past few years. She thought that when she got to a point when she was working 24/7 she would be able to fall asleep out of exhaustion, but that hadn’t been the case. She still stared at the ceiling and tried the tricks that Google had suggested. They never worked, but usually, they were enough of a distraction to the other kind of thoughts that usually fragmented her mind at night.

Adora took a deep breath and exhaled. Sometimes she really wished she would take the melatonin like Glimmer kept telling her to.

-+-+-

“Oh my, that’s disgusting.”

Catra almost completely flinched. She had forgotten that she had brought Scorpia along for the stake-out. Since Scorpia was a talker, the numbing silence must have made her feel like she was still alone. She was used to the woman chatting her ear off about things that Catra didn’t care about. Her not talking for a long amount of time was new for her.

“What?” Catra just took pictures of the couple in the car.

“He’s married. He should not be hooking up with someone else. I just don’t understand people. Marriage is a sacred oath.”

Catra snorted as she took more pictures knowing that she was going to get a big check for this case. This was the first stake-out she had taken her new partner with. She normally hated to do ‘cheating’ cases, but she was hurt for cash and, well, it was an easy cash maker. She had to do the shit so that she could do the work she really wanted to do.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, Scorp, the wife is going to get a huge chunk of change in the divorce. She could probably take everything from the dick.”

Scorpia harrumphed. “Still. She’ll hurt from seeing this.”

Catra didn’t mind Scorpia most of the time, but the tall woman had more emotions than anyone Catra had ever met before and it made her incredibly uncomfortable sometimes. She liked doing this job untethered to any emotions at all. It was easier.

“Look.” Catra turned to her new partner and scowled. “The people that pay me already know deep down that their partner’s cheating. I just take the pictures.”

Scorpia shivered. “I would never cheat. That’s just so cruel, you know?”

Catra shrugged. She had never been cheated on or cheated on someone, though she guessed that at one point she was probably the ‘other woman’, not that she really cared. Sex was sex. Sometimes she forgot that there were people out there like Scorpia who really believed in love.

“Good for you. Let’s head back. We have a meeting with the trio.”

Scorpia nodded, obviously still bothered by what she had just seen. Scorpia was a good investigator, Catra knew this (it’s why she hired her), but she still thought that the woman was naive. Scorpia was the kind of person who believed that good was in everyone. Catra knew that if anything, everyone was capable of bad, but some chose not to touch their own darkness.

“The trio. You mean…”

“Yeah.”

The trio. The three rookie officers who found out about illegal shit going on in the police. Things that Catra had already figured, but needed proof of. They were three idiot kids who were in fear of their life, but they were good at finding things out and snooping. Catra felt like she was so close to bringing down the corrupt cops for good.

“Insane. Really. Cops on the take from criminals. I mean, what is the world turning into?”

Catra frowned at her. “Are you joking or stupid? Cops have always been bad, Scorpia. They’re usually just better at hiding it.”

Her partner looked away out the other window and Catra knew that she had gone a little too far. Scorpia usually thought that Catra was the epitome of good, but sometimes she proved to Scorpia that she was a douche. Scorpia usually tried to not believe it.

“Do you think Entrapta has hacked into the police database yet?”

Catra smirked and answered, “There’s nothing Entrapta can’t hack into. At this point, she’s probably hacked the NSA so many times that it bores her.”

Scorpia nodded and Catra could see that Scorpia was still hurt. Part of Catra cared and thought about apologizing for being so harsh, but she knew by now to ignore that part of herself. She didn’t like that part of her. The vulnerable side of her.

“That’s good.”

“Yeah,” Catra agreed softly, not knowing what else to say. “It is.”

-+-+-

The alarm that woke Adora up was an old Paramore song that she was addicted to years ago. She never changed it (and she didn’t think she ever would). She rubbed her eyes that didn’t feel like got a minute of sleep. She didn’t know why she still woke up more tired than when she went to sleep. She shook the dark thought out of her head. It was a new day. A day to really make the change she wanted to see in the world. The lack of sleep made it feel worth it.

Steaming water from the shower covered her body and she enjoyed the sensation. After long nights, she usually woke up aching. The water always helped.

“Adora!”

Glimmer. Adora pulled the curtain back slightly to see her best friend in a cute dress in her bathroom. Glimmer really had no definition of ‘personal space’ and sometimes it really showed.

“What, Glimmer?” She thought that maybe the growl that came out of her mouth would scare her away, but it didn’t. Of course it didn’t. It never did.

“I was just thinking… are you going to go on another date with Huntara?”

Adora was about to hit something, or more specifically, someone. Glimmer had always been invasive about her love life (or lack of love life), but it got worse after Adora admitted that she didn’t do relationships. She regretted revealing that information and really regretted drunkenly admitting that she had sex with someone from the office.

“Glimmer, do we have to talk about this now?”

She shrugged dramatically and said, “I think she’s great, you know? But she flirts with everyone, Adora. And I know she’s hot and all but--”

“Glimmer.” Adora tried to hold herself back and remember that Glimmer wasn’t trying to offend her or anything like that. “Huntara and I aren’t dating. We slept together once after we had a lot to drink. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal? Adora, I thought you liked her?!”

Glimmer was a romantic. Adora knew this about her best friend (just like she knew Bow was the same way). She made up her mind a long time ago that she wasn’t made to be with anybody. That her focus was going to be on work, on making the world better, but Glimmer did not accept that. Adora appreciated that her friend thought she deserved more, but she knew better. She knew not to go down that road. Besides, she rarely had any sort of feelings for anybody. She just didn’t work that way.

“I do like Huntara. She’s amazing. Seriously. But I don’t have fee lings for her and I do not want to date her. Or date anyone. You know that.”

Glimmer just grumbled loudly. “Fine. I still think that you should let me try to set you up with somebody. You know, Perfuma thinks you’re great. And she’s single.”

Adora knew why she emphasized the last word. The last person she tried to set Adora up with was Mermista, who already was in a relationship with Sea Hawk, even though she pretended to hate him. Besides, as much as she liked the professional deadpan investigator of the firm, there wasn’t anything between them that resembled a spark. Not that Adora had much experience with that feeling anyway.

“No more set ups, Glim.” She turned the water off and pulled the towel off the hook before getting out. “I don’t want to be in a relationship with anyone.”

Glimmer pouted. “Okay, but what if there’s someone really hot and--”

“Glimmer.”

“Okay, you’re right. I’m done meddling. I’m going to see if Bow’s done with breakfast. And don’t worry, he’s made a pot of coffee. You’re addicted.”

Adora rolled her eyes and smiled at her best friend, who she knew always meant well. “So are you. Now get out of here.”

-+-+-

“Don’t get angry, Catra. I’m sure that there’s a perfect explanation for why--”

“They are little fuckers,” Catra seethed as she slammed her hands on the table, ignoring Scorpia’s looks of concern. “Of course they gave up. I can’t believe I put any faith in literal children.”

Scorpia was staring at her, her short bleached white/grey hair swooping along her forehead, and Catra knew what was coming. The optimistic speech about giving people a chance, yadda yadda yadda, people might surprise you, yadda yadda yadda. Catra didn’t know how the woman was still an optimist; she knew how much shit she had been through.

“Exactly, Wild Cat. They’re children. Give them some space. They’ll come back. They’re good kids.”

Catra knew what it was like. The police were really an indoctrinating boys club founded on morals they only took seriously when it fit their own ideology, but it was well cloaked by the idea of justice. Catra was once fooled, too, many years ago. But she never got to the point of being a rookie cop. She never even graduated from the police academy. She had seen the truth and never looked back.

She turned her attention away from Scorpia and the memories of her past back to Entrapta. With her hacker, she still felt like she could get things done without the idiot kids. Entrapta was in the corner of their cramped office space typing away on her several different screens.

Entrapta was weird. She was brilliant, but weird. Catra still didn’t understand why the woman with long purple hair in pigtails who occasionally wore a bug mask continued to work for her. Entrapta could do anything, but here she was.

“Yo, Entrapta. Please tell me you did not stay here all night.”

She looked up with wide eyes and declared, "I couldn't say that unless you want me to lie. Do you want me to lie?"

Catra rolled her eyes but felt the tug of a smile on her lips. “You need help, Entrapta. So, did you get in or what?”

Entrapta grinned at her like the cheshire cat. “Oh, I got in all right. I got in after ten minutes. Honestly, if they don’t want us to hack in, why make it so easy? It’s like they want us to hack in. I mean, I could delete every file if I wanted to. Or I could put out a BOLO for the captain, Catra. I could--”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, brainy. You could do a whole shit load of bad. As much as I appreciate that, do you think we could get the case records?”

Entrapta just blinked at her. “I could have done that in third grade. But to warn you, they just started to use digital records. I’m guessing most of the records are still in paper files somewhere. Imagine the chaos if someone were to burn--”

“You terrify me, Entrapta.” She said it in a joking tone, but there was something about the genius that was a little intense. She knew that if Entrapta wanted to destroy anyone she could. She did not want to get on her bad side.

The hacker just shrugged and continued to type rapidly, off doing her own thing. Catra didn’t even want to ask what she had been up to the entire night if it had taken her ten minutes to hack into the database.

-+-+-

Angella was walking toward the three of them and Adora felt the air knock out of her. Angella was not just the mother of her best friend, she was the managing partner of the Bright Moon law firm and Adora’s boss. She was beyond intimidating and all she wanted to do was prove herself. Adora wanted to become a partner before she turned thirty (just like all the other associates).

“I have a new case for the three of you. Follow me to my office. We have a lot to discuss.” She swiftly turned around and expected Adora, Glimmer, and Bow to follow her.

Adora shared a worried look between her best friends. They already had so much on their plate, they couldn’t imagine handling another case. But it wasn’t like they could tell the woman that. There was no way that she’d let them become partners if they couldn’t handle what they had already.

The three of them sat down in Angella’s large office with floor to ceiling windows that made Adora feel uncomfortable. The elegant woman just looked at them and sighed.

“I wouldn’t normally ask associates to work on a case like the one I’m giving you, but our partners have already too much on their hands. I want all three of you on this one. This case is important to me and I trust all three of you to handle it.”

“Mom--I mean--Angella, what’s going on?” Glimmer asked her, sounding a little bit concerned.

“Our firm has been investigating the PPD for a long time. You all know the corruption that happens there.” The three of them nodded, Adora more slowly than the others. “Three rookie police officers were just arrested for stealing evidence. Drugs.”

Adora was confused. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

Angella shook her head. “I think the rookies are innocent, Adora. I got a call from a friend who’s representing them and they say that they were helping a PI agency get dirt on the corruption going on. She thinks that they’re trying to bury the rookies.”

“A PI agency?” Bow asked, voicing Adora’s exact thoughts.

Angella nodded. “It seems like a legitimate agency. I’ll give them a call after this meeting. I want you three to meet with the rookies right now if you can. The charges have already been filed so they have probably been booked. We need to make sure that they get bail.”

“Angella,” Adora whispered, her voice shaking more than she thought it would. “What PI agency is it?”

The managing partner looked through some papers and said, “Uh, Horde Investigations & Consulting.”

Adora gripped the arms of her chair and felt the sensation of her whole body getting dunked in a pool of ice water. For a second, she forgot how to breathe. She knew who was running the agency, she didn’t even have to ask. The name rose to her throat and stayed there. Lingering.

“Adora?”

Adora cleared her throat and smiled hard at Glimmer. She didn’t want anyone to know about the maelstrom in her mind that surrounded the person she tried to not think about.

“I’m fine. Let’s get to work.”

[aliceslantern]

Beyond this Existence: New Life, short 3--Insomnia

Recovery is a tedious, nonlinear process. Demyx, Ienzo, and the others living in Radiant Garden's castle have to learn to come to terms with their pasts and their memories, learn to grow, and begin to understand what, exactly, it means to be human. While there is unexpected joy in this, there is also unexpected sorrow. A series of oneshots set after Beyond this Existence.

Current short: Insomnia. Ienzo has trouble sleeping.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

----

Ienzo could not stop his eyes from fluttering shut. Demyx’s cheerful, lively chatter seemed to go in one ear and out the other, leaving him with bits and fragments.

“--you would not believe what the guy had done, somehow got the handle in his eye . We had to sedate him but he was still freaking out--”

“--the thing is after that, he could still see--”

“--And then after that he used the same pan, the same fucking pan, to make noodles for us as a thank you. I mean, of course he washed it, but it’s just wild--”

The chatter faded to a dull hum, and for a second there was no sound, nothing at all. His head snapped up. Demyx had pursed his lips in exasperation. “You know,” he said, “You could have told me to shut up, instead of letting me literally bore you to sleep.”

Ienzo rubbed his eyes. They were hot, and raw. “It’s not that,” he said. “I’m simply very tired.”

“Long day?” he asked.

“Not quite.” A little flutter of anxiety made him shiver. “I think I may be catching cold.”

“Oh, yeah, something’s really going around. I wouldn’t be surprised.” Demyx reached over and touched Ienzo’s forehead. Ienzo, in his exhaustion, realized how stupid it was to lie about sickness when he had a healer sitting right across from him. “That’s weird. I don’t feel anything off. You want me to get you one of the cures anyway?”

Ienzo hesitated. Thinking seemed physically difficult. He could not quite string the right words together. “I likely just need some rest.”

“So go get some sleep, babe. You don’t have anything to do this afternoon, right?”

He almost told Demyx. He should’ve. It was a hard thing to admit. Still harder when his mind felt so foggy. “Well--I told Ansem that I would help him debug that new operating system--”

“He’s a big boy. I’m sure he’ll be fine.” His eyes were so soft, crinkling slightly at the corners, as they always did when he was concerned. “Do you want some tea or something? It might make you feel bet--”

“I am fine.” The words came out sharply.

Demyx frowned. “If you insist,” he muttered.

Ienzo sighed. “I apologize. I suppose I’m a bit grouchy.”

He crossed his arms. “I probably need a nap too. I was using magic all morning.” He tugged at the sleeves of his shirt. “So I guess I’ll catch you later?”

Ienzo nodded, and watched him leave. This was no good. He had to try again. How long had it been exactly since he’d last slept? It was hard to tell. Too long.

He crossed back over to his bedroom. He was starting to detest this space, its claustrophobia, the drafty window. Ienzo settled himself in bed, another shudder of anxiety breaking the ease of stillness. He shut his eyes. Counted to ten, then twenty, then a hundred, trying to soften his muscles. The bed was comfortable. There was nothing wrong with the bed.

The fact that it was the middle of the day made no difference. The same thing happened at night. It seemed as though every night that passed since the coma made sleep a more distant memory. There was also the fact that he’d become accustomed to sharing the space, and being held, and Demyx’s odd training schedule meant he was now often alone at night. He wasn’t used to dependence, and certainly didn’t like how it felt. Ienzo had been so self-sufficient for so long, and this felt like an even bigger setback.

He drew the second pillow into his arms, as though that might calm the achy anxiety brewing in his stomach. Tried to breathe.

Progress was not linear. He’d hoped to be the exception to that rule; after all, he’d slipped through the cracks so many times, what was one more?

He wanted sleep. Needed sleep. His body ached for it. It was entirely psychological, he knew; if he didn’t stress so much about it, likely it would come more easily. But stress was a constant of this life, always pulling him tauter still, even in the rare moments of comfort.

Okay, so, maybe he didn’t need sleep, maybe it was fine enough just resting and breathing, and breathing and resting. It was going to be fine.

He was fine.

----

It had grown dark outside. Ienzo was still, horribly, conscious. Wasn’t there something wrong with him? Why was he allowing himself to get so worked up about this? Why was he wasting so much time? He should be helping Ansem.

He was a touch dizzy when he got up. How he hated having to be corporeal, how finicky and needy the body was, all the time. He went into the bathroom and washed his face, holding the cool cloth over his eyes for a long moment. They ached.

Ansem was, predictably, still hard at work. He was, as far as Ienzo knew, balancing several projects at once, but he was really most invested in anything involving data, especially the fine line between reality and code itself. The new operating system was meant to house code in a more stable manner that was less stressful on their machines. Gummi blocks were always the best replacement parts and lasted far longer than any metal or plastic, but they were hard to come by, so they had to preserve what they had for as long as possible.

“Hello, Ienzo,” Ansem said cheerfully. “Demyx said you were resting. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

Of course he’d said something. Ienzo bit his lip. Demyx had become almost uncomfortably protective of his health, but how could Ienzo blame him? How many times had he escaped death now, exactly? (Best not to dwell on that.) “Made any progress?” He flinched at the poor structure of his speech.

“It’s coming along fairly well, all things considered. A couple of minor glitches here and there, but that’s to be anticipated. I believe soon we can start converting over all of our files. Perhaps it might be possible to make it compatible with the gummiphone too, so one can access things on the go. Our hardware isn’t yet necessarily up to par yet but I’m hoping that--”

A finger of pain stabbed him behind the eyes. Ienzo pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Are you alright?” Ansem asked.

“Bit of a headache.” He forced a smile. “Would you mind repeating that?”

Ansem turned slightly in his chair. “If you are unwell, you shouldn’t strain yourself.”

“I am fine,” he reasserted.

“Ienzo, forgive me, but I had raised you to believe in honesty.”

He felt the blood rush to his face, along with a bitterness. “You weren’t around long, though, were you?”

Ansem’s complexion, in the blue light of the screen, was ashen.

Ienzo swallowed and touched his throat. “Master, I--”

“No. You’re correct in that regard.”

The silence had a weight to it.

“Ienzo. You’re allowed to be angry with me.”

“It wasn’t as if you chose to be thrown into the Realm of Darkness.”

“Heavens, no. But you were told something else entirely, something which you then internalized for months on end--years. Lies are much harder to erase than the truth.” Ansem stood and placed his hands on Ienzo’s shoulders. “I was a fool, a coward. Rather than taking responsibility for my actions, I instead became embittered and sought revenge. You paid the price for my poor decisions.” His rust-colored eyes bore into Ienzo’s, unnervingly. “How is it you feel, truly?”

“I feel…” His heart was racing. “I feel so…” Allowing himself to be vulnerable in front of Ansem was a new kind of pain, but in his exhaustion he didn’t have the strength to fight off these thoughts. “I am angry. At you. At myself. At everything. I thought that once I laid it all to rest I would feel at peace but I--”

His gaze was so calm. Ienzo could not bear to look at him.

“I cannot sleep,” he said. He hugged himself tightly. “If not for the nightmares.”

“What is it you dream about?” Ansem asked gently.

“Oh, any number of unpleasant things.” There was something like pressure rising within him, and he wondered if he might be sick. “The day they told me you’d gone mad. When they cut me down. Death, destruction, hellfire… these.” He brushed his hand over his shoulder, and the scars covered by his shirt. Ienzo was aware he was sounding a little unhinged. “I feel like I’m losing my mind. I’m losing my self. ” A razor-sharp pain stuck in his throat. He touched it. The lump forming there seemed to have stopped the torrent of words.

“You are not losing ,” Ansem said. “You are growing, and healing. Processing this trauma is a sign that you’ve stopped protecting yourself from others. Which, believe it or not, is a strength.”

Heat built behind his eyes. “I’ve told Demyx more or less the same,” he mumbled. “Why don’t I believe it?”

“Knowing and feeling are entirely separate.”

Ienzo took a deep breath. His chest spasmed a little with a sob. He was not going to get out of here with his dignity intact.

“You’ve had to rely on yourself for far too long,” Ansem said softly. “I hope that will change.”

He felt the first tears break free. He was simply too tired to fight anymore. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so--”

Ansem drew Ienzo gently into his arms. Ienzo was a trembling mess. It took a concerted effort to allow himself to cry freely and be comforted, though once he did it seemed like he couldn’t stop. This was only worsened by the fact that Ansem smelled exactly like he remembered, like powder and coffee and oranges. Ansem didn’t say anything, and merely rubbed Ienzo’s back in slow circles until the sobs subsided.

The horrible tension of it all had eased, leaving him drained and humiliated. He swiped at his face.

“Come,” Ansem said. “I’ll make you some tea. You’ve had a long day.”

That night, even though he lay in bed alone, he slept deeply, and without dreams.

[checanty]

HELLO this might be a little personal so if you don't want to answer this question I completly understand. I was wondering how you deal with your (art)-anxiety (you know the thing: self critisism and knocking yourself down all the time, being scared shitless about the future because life is getting real now). Do you have some tips or thoughts? X

Alright. So this is a big topic. It’s not always easy to tell since we tend to make sure to project our best self via social media, but anxiety and self doubts are not especially rare with artists including the ones you think have *made it*.  However, while I can talk about how I personally deal with anxiety, we all feel differently and not everything that works for me will work for you. Take what’s useful to you and leave the rest here. I’m just a silly 23 year old spewing nonsense into the void.

Also, if you struggle and feel like you need help, please do the scary thing and reach out to somebody you trust and/or talk to a mental health professional.

And obviously this is not a complete list because I have come to the realization that at the pace I’m writing we’ll be old and grey by the time I’m done.

Anyways here we go …

I. Assorted things

a. First, it helps to acknowledge that imposter syndrome, the fraud police or however you want to call it is a thing. Once I identify that nagging little voice for what it is, I can call it out on its bullshit. Sometimes it just haunts me in the back of my mind and I actively formulate the negative thought out in an ‘Ah yes, I’m a lazy little shit, that will never be good enough. That what you wanted to tell me, brain? Well, you gotta come up with something new because I know this trick and it’s not true.’ fashion. It helps me to recognize the pattern, pull it out into the open and then reject it. It’s easier than having my head buzzing with negative fragmented ideas that can continue to fester until I can’t deal with them anymore.

b. Trust others. When a person says they like your work? Trust that they do. Don’t draw the conclusion they’ll be your über-fan and throw money at you or that they’re an art critic guru, but take them by their word. That person likes your work and that’s awesome! (Obviously my grandmother predicting me to become a great artist won’t mean it’s true, but I believe she means it.)Also, somebody hires you for a job and it’s super scary and you feel like your going to fail? Trust the person who has hired you. They’ve seen your portfolio, they pay you (make sure they do), they believe you can do it. They’re not stupid.

c. When you’re sitting in your pajamas surfing the internet, eating cereals with a fork trying to eat away your felt 3000 failed drawings (But you’re lazy, so really you only drew like 5 things, but they’re so bad the failure counts for more.) of the day it’s hard to believe you can ever be as pro as those glorious drawing machines on the internet with their polished websites and portfolios who make it look so easy.

Now imagine stumbling upon yourself on the internet. What do you see?Your latest cool artwork, your work ethic (even if you really just queue your posts cleverly) … And this is just your online presentation. Think about the artwork. You know your stuff. You see it all the time. You know all the frustrating bits and problem areas. You know what parts you’re just winging or obscuring by drawing decorative ornamental elements on them and pretend it’s your style. Other people don’t. (They might if you tell them. So try not to be too negative about your work.) Try to see your work with their eyes. Design a book cover mock up with your artwork (or whatever is applicable to the area you want to work in) and imagine it’s by somebody else and you just stumbled upon it in a book shop. You might realize it’s actually kind of okay …You might actually start to really like some of your works. (or all of it.)

d. Trust in the fact that drawing is a skill that is constantly developing. Even if you’re not at the level you need or want to be at, as long as you practice and keep at it you’ll eventually get there. It’s a process. It might be a really slow one. But there’s just one direction to go and you have time. You do. Even when other people your age (or younger) seem to have made it (whatever that means), it’s frustrating, alright. Have a cry, that’s ok. Get back to the drawing table. You’re on different paths. Stay off the internet for a while if comparisonitis gets too bad. There’ll always be people who are better than you. Focus on your work. (My drawing teacher’s advice on this was: Get inspired, not frustrated. Which is easier said than done.)

e. Learn a new skill that has nothing to do with your art, simply for the joy of learning it and then fail a lot. It’s a lot easier to learn being accepting of your mistakes and failures this way. It’s much easier to learn when nobody judges you (grades you. Makes you take tests.). I’ve started yoga and learning a new language last year and I am still bad at both, but whenever I mess up my vocabulary or can’t do a pose it’s … okay. Nothing bad happens. And it’s lots of fun. The failing. The times when things do work. It’s easier to realize a mistake isn’t the end of it all when you practice with something that doesn’t already come with all the old pressures and expectations.

f. Get your sleep. No screens before bed time, seriously. Those are an invitation for insomnia. Try to keep a regular sleep schedule. I sound so boring with my whole scheduling habit, but it helps a lot.

g. Find a way to release stress. Do something besides work. When I find it hard to allow myself to do non work related things I tell myself being good at what I’m doing or being successful early on doesn’t actually mean much when it means I’m burned out by 24 and dead by 27. It’s really hard to follow your passion when you constantly fantasize about running away to hide somewhere in a forest cave living only on dirt and roots until you eventually poison yourself or freeze to death.

What also helped me to stop feeling like I’m not working enough was using a timer so I could show myself by the end of the week how much I have gotten done.Also using a schedule. And sticking (at least roughly) to it.(Although it takes a lot of trial and error to figure out how to best put your schedule together. It’s important to be aware of how you’re feeling and to be able to make some changes to accommodate your needs. Don’t start out by assuming you’re always your best and most productive self. Are you doing something that will probably exhaust you? Factor that in. Figure out how much you can actually effectively work. Buffer days in case you have deadlines. You might get sick or have a bad art day. Time off for regeneration. Don’t do the ‘I work best under pressure a day before the deadline’ thing if you can help it.)

h. Realizing you got time and you don’t actually have to be a fully functional amazing, successful artist person by, like, tomorrow. You don’t. You take the time you need. You make sure you’re okay first. Figuring out what exactly is important to you and what you really want to be and do takes time. It takes going down the wrong path sometimes. I started out wanting to be a comic artist, but ended up doing creepy dark fantasy illustrations. Now I’m realizing that this is not everything I want to do. It’s a process and nothing you do is in vain, but things take time.

(–> Goal setting on the other hand is a great way to succeed at something, but you have to know what you want first. Of course you can set a goal and realize on the way that you have no interest in reaching it anymore. I guess then it depends on what your goal is whether you want to continue or change course. E.g. I’d finish that big project you’ve been working on for years, but maybe stop trying to get that job you actually don’t want anymore.)

In a similar vein … Learning to be patient with oneself. Patience is always good.

II. The future is scary and I don’t know what to do

a. Research first! The monster is way less scary when you can see it clearly. Only once you know how it looks like you can plan on how to slay it. (It might not even be a perfect plan, it just has to be good enough to make you feel like things might turn out okay.)Hit the internet, read a lot. Learn what you can. See how other people do it. Ask questions. Try to find out where your crowd hangs out. My personal advice is to be a bit careful with those 10 ways to be a successful artist articles depending on how in depth they are. I either find them not especially informative or they’re a great way for me to spend the rest of the day crying (even and especially when they’re supposed to be motivational. There’s so much motivational stuff out there that really just makes me feel super insecure.) because after reading them I’m pretty sure I don’t do any of those things and am a horrible person anyways. Articles dealing with matters in a more nuanced manner might often be more to read, but have been way more helpful to me.

Some resources that help(ed) me a lot (consider I’m mostly doing fantasy art, so it might not all be for you):

http://muddycolors.blogspot.deAmazing artists and art directors sharing insights. There’s a lot. Maybe matching this ask’s subject:

Arrogance & Doubt

How to get what you want

The secret to success in art

@dearartdirector here on tumblr. Make sure to check out their prior asks&answers before sending them your questions. There’s already a lot of important stuff in there.

Bobby Chiu’s Youtube Channel1FantasticWeek Podcast (& Facebook Group)Drawn&Drafted

Giuseppe Castellano’s Blog and #arttips on Twitter

For children’s books: find the hashtag #kidlitart on Twitter

Otherwise try to find blogs and podcasts about what you want to do.

III. Everything is too much and I can’t manage or think or …

a. Sometimes things just get too much and I put everything on hold and write through it. I think faster than I can write, so putting thoughts to paper slows me down. I also see the stuff in my head written out and it is easier to confront it and recognize what actually makes sense and what doesn’t. The process is obviously different every time, but basically I try to boil down what upsets me and then find ways to deal with it conversation style. (I usually even include the bits where I don’t know what to say and then write exactly that down.)For example I’ve written  myself through some phone call anxiety last year by listing what I am actually afraid of and why it makes me feel insecure and then writing down what I know to be actually true.

The last part looked somewhat like this: You’re safe. You’re sitting in your room on the floor and there is nobody around. Nothing can happen to you. You are physically safe.It is their job to help you. If you don’t know something, they will help you.  If they are mean it is not on you. They might have had a shitty day. Also, they don’t know you and their opinion on you has no influence on your life. They talk to a lot of people in a day and will probably forget you. You are not important enough to ruin somebody’s day. If they make fun of you at home it has no influence on your life.Just be as polite as you can be and you have nothing to feel bad about.

And so on.

Most negative thoughts are similar. e. g. ‘I’ll never achieve anything.’ vs writing down successes (as small as they might be): I’ve been able to feed myself for a week. I can speak a second language. I survived school. I’m keeping my rats alive. I know myself better today than I did last year.

When I feel like I’m dancing on too many parties and feel like I am constantly forgetting something or feel just vaguely haunted I try to figure out what the immediate issues that freak me out are. Being as specific as possible. Being as honest as possible. It’s not like anybody has to see what I’m writing. This is not just about art. It’s about everything, even and especially the petty little things. If you gather enough of those they can be crushing. Once they’re all written down I can decide which have priority and which I can put aside. The important part is to make a conscious decision (really, decision making. Sometimes stressing about making a decision is worse than making the wrong choice.). I don’t have to answer my friend’s Facebook message today, I can just tell them I’m currently stressed out and will get back to them at some later point. Or let them wait for a day or two. They’ll survive. I can simply say no to this or that thing. I can totally schedule this thing to next week and not think about it until then. (Actually write down when you’ll do it, though. Everything you write down you don’t have to keep juggling in your head.)

Then I write down possible solutions for what is still left. Afterwards I figure out which ones I can implement and which one’s I cannot (for whatever reason.). What can I do right now? (Starting with the easiest fixes. That might be doing the dishes that have piled up over time.) What can I schedule? I need to have plan of action* for every problem on my list. Sometimes it doesn’t mean I’ll solve it, but at least I’ll feel like I’ve done everything I currently feel capable of doing.

* Those may be suuuuper small steps. Or maybe even acknowledging it scares me, but accepting that it is something I cannot influence and therefore something that just goes into my calendar and out of my brain. It’s a lot about planning and scheduling for me.

b. I use a friend of mine and my  mum for reality checks sometimes when my brain gets stuck on something totally irrational and I need somebody to explain to me why I don’t make sense.

(I also use my friend when I’m not sure whether I’m interpreting a message or social situation correctly. Good to have a second opinion when your paranoid brain sees cryptic messages and overt criticism everywhere.)

c. When I feel I’m about to freak out and can’t sit down to write or think something through I have a book lying around that I can grab and read aloud until I calm down. I like Jack Kerouac for this because I don’t have to try and understand what is going on. It’s just a stream of pretty words and sound.