I haven’t been painting much lately and it doesn’t feel good.

For the six years that we have lived in this house, the basement (really the ground floor) has been a huge mess. Part workshop, part gym, part storage – all mess. It has taken all that time and multiple attempts to finally turn it into a usable space and after a lot of struggling, we finally managed to do it a few months ago. As a result of all that hard work I was able to set up a painting studio in there. I cannot adequately describe the joy I felt at being able to leave my paints and supplies out and have everything organized just so where the kids wouldn’t mess with it.

I got up before the kids fairly frequently to paint. I would play my music, no headphones required, and I would just paint. I was really productive for the last few months and finished three large paintings.

But then my mom had to move in with us and the basement was the only available space where she could stay. My easel went back to my office, which I share with my husband right off of the kitchen. All my art supplies had to move up too. The spaces that I had clawed to open up closed in again and clutter flowed back in like an unwelcome tide.

I haven’t really painted in the weeks since.

Mostly I’ve been tired, but as the mom of two small kids that’s just my default state. As I wracked my brain trying to figure out why I haven’t managed to get up early to paint again, it occurred to me that the fact that I no longer had a studio space probably had something to do with it. I used to delight in closing myself in that room and being free to paint. But the two times I’ve tried to paint when the easel had to move back I was constantly being interrupted, by my mom, my husband, the kids, and so on. No one meant to disrupt me, of course. But every comment, every time I had to take out my ear buds to hear some comment directed toward me, sapped me of momentum.

Now I just keep staring at my unfinished canvas. The calendar deadline I set up for myself for this fourth painting is just mocking me on my phone now.

I relished having my own studio space. No one disturbed me there and I was free to just work. It was a physical space that served as a manifestation of my Work and my Passion. And now I’ve been relegated into a tiny corner of my house again.

I need to figure out a new path forward. I didn’t paint much before I set up my studio. And I haven’t painted much since I lost it. But now that I’ve had the feeling of painting consistently, I can’t give that up. I need a new strategy to get up early even though I’m tired to paint. I need to set up my office in such a way that it can be enjoyable to paint in there, even if it’s cramped. I won’t let go of my dreams now that I’ve had a taste of them.