It is an enormous luxury not to be pressured for time, then a greater one not to feel rushed.  The pressure of the semester ended December 22, after I slogged through a month of exhaustion and very low spirits.  But the habit of working against time is engrained, and my internal motor doesn't just reset once my grades are in.  Oh, no.  Rather, I enter an even more painful period of transition.  The imposed structure is gone but I haven't replaced it.  I don't have the energy to but feel like I should, so the time I need to replenish is haunted by the calendar and pervasive doubt.  It wasn't until after Christmas that my energy returned and I could go to the studio with anything to draw on.  This pattern is as old as I am, yet the despondency of the transition blinds me every time. It doesn't even matter that I can often label it while it's happening; I still collapse and believe I may never get up.

Then I do.  Then I have to sort it out in words.  Again.

So I'm in the studio working; I reorganized the space yesterday.  The Japan 3/11 drawings continue, ideas are floating around, and I will be updating my Web site, sending out applications, reading, and writing.  I now feel a humming internal pressure, to accomplish for myself and reinforce my foundation.  I also feel grateful that I haven't sabotaged myself in the end, as some of the thinking, feeling, and behavior that fuel this pattern have caused that in my earlier years and the risk will always be there.