I’m ill. Again. During December there was only one week when my nose was not running and yet this was the most intense month of the year (in close competition with October). I didn’t leave time for myself to rest, thinking that if I had taken a break I would have fallen behind even more and become even more stressed. I could hardly keep my head above water. The time has come that had I been asked what I wanted for Christmas I would have answered: time, plenty of time, please!

2017 was both one of the most wonderful and one of the hardest years of the decade. It was amazing because I was part of so many exciting things as never before these past few years: I travelled a lot with my SO (Germany, Poland, Slovakia, Sweden, Chec Republic, Hungary…), I stepped out of my comfort zone about 200 times – most significantly when I started a graphic design course. In 2017 I painted more than ever before, and not least I was found with brilliant comissions: I could paint exactly the things I like painting.

I am incredibly grateful to 2017 because I have finally started seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, as if the lifestyle I am aiming at actually existed. But now I am tired. I don’t know where I am on this road, whether I’m at only one tenth or over half-way, but now it is time to rest. When you listen to your friends with longing telling you that they have time to work out, meet others, or even have a little time to be on their own, then you know that it’s time to stop. I need to process my experiences and take a deep breath before I’m going forward.

So now I’m at home. Alone. In silence. Oozing in snot, while I’m trying to find the healthy balance between Netflix or reading and painting. I look back at the past year. Then, very very slowly I turn my head towards 2018. I am starting to think about the future, about new creative plans. Then, when my fingers start itching for the brushes, I will know that I can jump again, that I can continue my creative journey.