Circling my way back to myself

If you recall from my last post life has been a little crazy lately away from the studio, decorating and gardening, work etc. and that is still the case. However, I’ve really been loving the way my kitchen is coming together. It feels like I’m slowly stepping into the kind of life I want to live — calmer, cozier, more intentional. It’s a quiet shift, but I can feel it in my bones.

And yet, alongside that lovely settling feeling, there’s frustration that continues to bubble in the background. Not with my home… but with my art.

Part of me wishes I were further along — creating daily, selling consistently, loving what I make, embracing the good, the bad, and the downright ugly. I know I’m not actually “behind,” but it’s hard not to feel that tug of impatience.

But here’s the funny thing: while my art doesn’t look like finished pieces or new projects right now… it is happeningin the small moments I get in the evening or early mornings. It looks like a doodle: circles. joined up circles. A tiny cartoon reindeer. And, most importantly, it looks like Edna.

Yes — Edna.My inner critic.

EDNA

I didn’t sit down intending to draw her. She just sort of appeared on the page, as if she’d been waiting for the right moment to step forward. And once I’d drawn her, she suddenly had a name.

A face.

A personality.

And that changed something.

There’s something quietly powerful about externalising that inner voice. About seeing her on paper instead of feeling her in my chest. Naming her didn’t give her more power — it gave me more clarity. It made her separate from me. A character I can roll my eyes at, not a truth I need to live by.

I think that’s what this whole season feels like: bits of myself emerging on paper while the rest of my life takes shape around me. I might not be producing big pieces right now, but I’m reconnecting in small, honest ways. Through circles and doodles and unexpected characters who show up uninvited.

This month isn’t a dramatic art update.It’s a “I’m still here… still creating… still finding myself” kind of update.

And maybe that’s exactly what it needs to be.

Because sometimes the real progress isn’t in the finished work — it’s in the quiet moments where we meet ourselves on the page. Even the parts we didn’t expect. Even the parts named Edna.

So I’ll keep doodling.I’ll keep noticing the tiny shifts. And I’ll keep listening — not to Edna, but to the version of me who’s slowly coming back alive through these simple marks.

Sometimes finding yourself doesn’t look like masterpieces. Sometimes it looks like circles… and a cranky little critic with a name.