Running On A Treadmill And Getting Nowhere?

You ever have one of those weeks where life is like a treadmill that’s been cranked up to 10, and someone tossed a balance ball into the mix for funsies?

Yeah, welcome to my current reality.

Every day starts with a check-in on how Klee is feeling. The good news: she’s nowhere near the state she was in when she was hospitalized. The not-so-good news: things are still not exactly back to “let’s dance around the house with breakfast tacos” normal. We’ve got two appointments this week, some bloodwork, and what feels like seventeen and a half meetings.

Also on my plate: taking photos of the mural wall, a meeting about the Maker’s Space, and all the “normal people stuff” like groceries, post office runs, and pretending I know what day it is.

Oh—and we did our taxes.

Which took three days.

Three days of staring at numbers, receipts, spreadsheets, and questioning every decision I’ve ever made. As self-employed artists, this annual ritual also involved handing over a large chunk of our already fragile and whimpering bank account to the government. Nothing quite says romance like “Hey babe, want to cry together while we pay taxes instead of paying ourselves?”

Meanwhile, the mural deadline is galloping toward me like a caffeinated buffalo, my book launch has officially been pushed back (again), and other potential sources of income? Yeah—they’re all simmering gently on the backburner until we can find five spare minutes and the mental capacity to deal with them.

And somewhere in there, I’m supposed to be a calm, inspired artist?

Listen. I had a moment last week—I’m not gonna lie—where I considered quitting everything. Just peace out, mic drop, vanish into the forest with a sketchbook and a backpack. Between Klee’s health, my mom being in the hospital, family drama, and the cold slap of Tax Season, I was done. Toast. Overcooked microwave burrito done.

People say “make art about it!” And sure, I do. Eventually. But when I’m overwhelmed? I don’t go all Van Gogh about it—I shut down. Like, buffering-circle-over-my-soul kind of shutdown.

Then April 12th rolled around—mine and Klee’s 12th wedding anniversary. I wanted to write something beautiful about her. So I started looking through photos of our life together, all the adventures we’ve been on, the ridiculous and wonderful things we’ve done. And then that side of my brain—you know, the one that’s kind of an asshole—whispered, “Things will never be like this again.”

And that, my friends, is the kind of emotional sneak attack that doesn’t get talked about enough. That quiet, creeping grief of the negative asshole that lives in your head. That voice that tries to tell you the best is behind you and your future is fudged. It’s emotional BS, but it feels real when it hits. And it’s exhausting.

The truth is, we don’t talk enough about how emotionally draining it is when someone you love is unwell or you are going through some crap. It’s like your brain is trying to organize your life while also juggling “WHAT IFs” and “ANXIETY” and “GUILT PANCAKES.”

And here’s the real kicker: even with everything Klee’s going through, she’s the one reminding me to take care of myself. She’s helped me figure out ways to rest, to slow down, to breathe—and let’s be honest, sometimes she has to force me to do it. Which is wild, because whatever emotional storm I’m feeling? It’s probably tenfold for her. She’s been the lighthouse in the middle of all this chaos, even while weathering the storm herself.

But here’s the part that matters most: I’m okay. Really. I know… everything I listed is really dramatic and sucks, but I’m not going anywhere. I might slow down a bit and be less active in the world for a while, but I’m good with that.

Because I’ve learned—sometimes the hard way—that if you don’t make time to process what you’re feeling, your brain will schedule it for you at the least convenient moment possible. (Usually while starting your day with a hot coffee or trying to fall asleep at night.)

So here’s a list of What I Actually Do When Life Feels Like Too Much:

1. Say the Quiet Part Out Loud

I talk to myself like I’m a friend having a breakdown over tea. Not judgmental. Just real. “Dude, this sucks. You’re allowed to feel how you feel.” Don’t bottle it up—let it out and give yourself the advice you would give someone else.

2. Micro-Wins Are Still Wins

Sometimes the big stuff feels impossible. So I focus on the tiniest thing I can do. Showered? Win. Answered an email without screaming? Champion. Took a walk and didn’t think about taxes the whole time? MVP.

3. I Remind Myself Who Is Boss

The negative voices in your head can be convincing because they are coming from your own head. But at the end of the day, they are just concepts and ideas you may have picked up along the way. I ask myself, “is this thought empowering or disempowering?” If it is disempowering I reframe it. For example. “Things will never be like this again between you and klee.” Of course things will never be like that again, that was one phase of our lives, we are constantly growing and evolving together and are much stronger now than we’ve ever been. So, “Things will never be like this again between you and klee because they are getting better and better every day.”

4. I Don’t Force Creativity—I Invite It Later

When I’m in the thick of it, I don’t pressure myself to be brilliant. I let art come to me after the storm, when the lesson or the light starts to peek through the clouds. That’s when the magic happens.

5. I Remind Myself This Is Temporary

Every moment of chaos feels like forever, but it’s not. It passes. Even when it’s hard, I whisper to myself, “This is not the end of your story. This is just a weird-ass chapter.”

6. I Laugh. Even If It’s Inappropriate

Humor is a rebellious act of hope. It’s flipping the bird at despair. So yeah, I laugh at the absurdity of it all—because what’s the alternative? Crying over expired milk? Instead, Klee and I enjoy stand up comedy and joke with each other all the time.

7. I Reach Out to Klee (Even When I Don’t Feel Like It)

Sometimes I want to close up into a ball and isolate myself. I want to avoid talking about my feelings because I don’t want to add anything to anyone’s plate. That is not going to work for anyone involved. So I talk to Klee and try to be very honest with everyone about where I am and how I feel. I’ll write a blog to get my feeling out and process things. I don’t bury it which goes against my upbringing as a man. I was taught that you never show weakness and that you always keep a strong front, and I did that for most of my life. I can honestly say, that is the dumbest advice I have ever heard. You either face your emotions or they eat you up from the inside out and eventually come up to the surface in one way or another.

So, this is how I’m dealing with things. I’m no expert, just figuring it out for myself as I go. So, if you’re in a season of holy crap, you’re not broken—you’re just human. A wildly creative, emotional, beautifully complicated human.

And if you need to sit in a blanket burrito and do nothing today? That’s allowed.