So I got home from vacation two weeks ago, got on my bike for a little ride before getting to work on Monday and...
So last week I practiced a new sport called concussion healing (I was wearing a helmet but took it hard in the chin). Concussion healing involves doing this: Nothing.
And by nothing I mean resting not only your body but your brain. No reading. No listening. No puzzles. No drawing. Nothing.
I am type A. Nothing suuuuuuuucks! I might have cheated a bit. But I did rest mostly.
And what's important is that I'm mostly okay. People do this awesome and amazing thing: we heal. We take crappy painful spills and even though we sometimes don't recover, we sometimes do. The healing process makes me marvel.
I'll spare my old blog the details of my crash but add a note of gratitude for the good Samaritans who picked me up in their pick-up when I was bleeding and wrecked on the side of the road (I can't even remember what you look like!) and for the firemen who ultimately got me to the hospital and for all the friends and family who've helped me heal.
And also to fate: I'm so happy that my drawing hand was the one spared. Which leads me to this week.
This week has been quiet and full to the brim with drawing.
I've had months of setbacks with my work and after all of it it is so nice to be able to just draw. And draw. And draw.
Because this is part of healing too.
I'm finishing up drawings for a revision I could/should/would have finished ages ago if I hadn't moved. It's delightful and fun to draw this much despite being self-conscious of not getting everything done long ago and right away and perfectly-timed and without any hitches involving mommy life and moving, and multi-tasking. Despite the perfectionist on my shoulder nagging me that I'm not perfect it does feel pretty nice to just pick up the pen and do it anyway.
So here's the imperfect me (still bandaged, pirate scar to come). Feeling lively despite the scars.