Klee Health Update And My Brain Is Drowning in Molasses

So, I started this blog wanting to only update you on Klee.

She’s not been feeling the greatest lately, and our schedules have been disrupted quite a bit again. Luckily, we will hopefully be taking care of her symptoms soon. It’s been a slow road with some weird twists and turns — one of those “didn’t we already do this?” kinds of journeys. We both feel like this has been going on for a while… because it has. But we also know it could be worse, and we’re grateful that we have the ability to get her care and keep moving forward.

The problem is that while the shit is hitting the fan, the world doesn’t stop spinning. It just keeps turning — bills still show up, emails keep coming, and your to-do list looks at you like, “So… you free now?” If we expect to keep doing what we do — making art, writing, performing, surviving — we still have to do stuff. Even when our brains are yelling “Nope!”

So, I’ve got a bit on my plate right now.

And by “a bit,” I mean my plate is less like a standard dinner plate and more like one of those massive Renaissance fair turkey-leg-and-stew platters… with a side of existential dread and a giant dollop of “What the hell am I even doing right now?”

Currently, I’m working on a mural design that keeps giving me the creative equivalent of a middle finger. I stare at it. It stares back. Nothing happens. We are in a tense standoff, and I think it’s winning.

I also have a commission I haven’t started. Not because I don’t want to… but because every time I go to start it, my brain says, “WAIT! Before we do that, let’s panic about literally everything else first.”

Then there’s the studio. Oh, my beautiful, chaotic studio — where half-finished projects go to nap under a fine layer of dust and forgotten inspiration. It’s like a museum of creative procrastination.

And don’t even get me started on YouTube and Patreon. I love them. I do. But lately, trying to keep up with posting has been like trying to do yoga in a hurricane. Upside down. On fire. Luckily, our community doesn’t care how long it takes us to come back as long as everyone is healthy and happy. We really have an awesome online community.

Also… I feel fat. I know that’s not something technically “on my plate” (unless you count the jam on bread I may or may not have eaten at 1:30 a.m.), but it’s there, and it’s loud. Apparently, the brain likes to throw in some bonus self-judgment when things get overwhelming. Thanks, brain.

And another thing on our plate? Helping bring the Makerspace to life here in town. It’s an awesome project, something we’re super passionate about, but unfortunately, we had to postpone meetings in March and haven’t been able to do much more than squeeze in a little time here and there. It’s one of those long-game efforts that we want to give our full attention — but life, man, life has other plans lately.

Oh, and my book? Yeah… that was supposed to release at the end of March. Well… that’s today. And it’s not happening. The book is still coming — just not today, not while the universe is running on chaos mode. As much as I want to celebrate it and do it justice, today I’m just trying to remember what day it is.

If I’m being honest — and let’s just be painfully honest here — I’m overwhelmed. The kind of overwhelmed where when my phone buzzes, I let out a sigh so deep it probably registers on a seismograph somewhere.

Because I know it’s another thing. Another ask. Another task. Another opportunity for me to feel like I’m going to let someone down.

The main issue, though? I’m distracted. Klee’s health has taken a bit of a downturn. Some symptoms are creeping back in, and as always, my focus shifts to her. That’s how it’s always been — my heart is with her, period.

This week she’s got another surprise appointment, and they’re starting her on a new treatment. Oh, and just to keep things spicy, we found out we need to go in for more blood tests. These are the little surprise curveballs that pop up when healing is happening. The healing part is good. The constant schedule disruptions and unexpected doctor visits? Not so much.

And while I’m pouring my energy into making sure she’s okay, my brain is yelling, “HEY! WHAT ABOUT BILLS?! ART?! DEADLINES?! THE MURAL THAT KEEPS GLARING AT YOU?!”

Now, here’s the thing… I did this to myself.

Well, not the Klee-getting-sick part — but the mountain of projects? The overbooked schedule? The infinite to-do list? Yeah. That was all me. In a perfect world, this workload is manageable. It’s the thing I do. But we’re not in a perfect world — we’re in a world where the faucet leaks, the yard turns into a jungle, and family stuff likes to show up unannounced, like a sitcom neighbor with emotional baggage.

I know this all sounds dramatic, and maybe I shouldn’t be writing a blog post while smack dab in the middle of feeling overwhelmed… but here I am. Typing away. Because the truth is, moments like these are weirdly valuable. They remind me to slow down. To stop trying to juggle flaming swords while riding a unicycle on a tightrope of anxiety.

And the worst part? When I get into this state, I become less productive, not more. I start doom-scrolling, reorganizing paint jars, watching obscure YouTube videos on how crayons are made, or questioning whether I should just quit it all.

See, you’re not the only one.

Everything feels like I’m trying to run through molasses. With bricks tied to my feet. While carrying all my unfinished paintings on my back. Wearing a very stylish, yet impractical, anxiety hat.

But here’s the thing: I know this feeling. I’ve been here before. And I always get through it. Eventually, the fog lifts, the molasses thins, and I remember that I am, in fact, capable of doing hard things — just not all at once, and definitely not while trying to run on empty.

So, if you’re also feeling like you’ve got too much on your plate — like your brain is a glitchy browser with 42 tabs open and your mouse keeps freezing — I feel you. Deeply.

Take a breath. Be kind to yourself. Make a dumb joke. Throw a pillow dramatically. Do one tiny thing. Then maybe another. And if all else fails… pretend you know how to slow down even if you think you don’t know how..

Stay rogue, stay ridiculous, and above all — don’t give up, just slow down a bit. Even if it feels like you’re drowning in molasses.

Love,
Rafi