embracing stability

I lived in a perpetual hurry; I fed my mind with distractions to avoid facing reality or momentary silence that gave me clarity to think. Working high-stress jobs filled me with what I now know to be a false sense of purpose. Mainly by equating working 60-80 hour weeks to being successful and overextending myself to fuel self-worth. Despite my genuine desire to help others, I unconsciously used the pain of others to mask my trauma, and in the end, if I couldn't save someone unwilling to be "saved," I felt guilt and shame on top of failure. Even in some warped way, it felt like I was gathering examples and statistics to prove to myself, to my own negative core beliefs, that I wasn't good enough. My worries had validity, and I concluded that I needed to work harder. Looking back, my passion for helping others was also an emotional necessity to block myself from the nagging feeling I, too, needed to get help.I was building a wall around myself, shielding me from the truth I fled and the new chaotic reality I created—a reality where battling inner demons and seeking stability became my perpetual struggle, exacerbating my mental illness.

For years, I grappled with the uncomfortability of silence, learning to sit with myself and simply be. It was an excruciating process, a struggle to fathom how existing in chaos felt easier than finding peace in stillness. I had to feel everything and nothing simultaneously. Months turned into an endless blur of anxiety, each day plagued by the anticipation of the inevitable—the moment when the other shoe would drop. This pervasive dread seeped into every corner of my life, from relationships to ordinary errands like grocery shopping. It was a strange, unsettling experience to navigate a world that others deemed "normal" yet felt anything but normal to me. During this period, I unknowingly built walls, not to keep others out but to keep myself in. These walls were a self-imposed prison of denial, a futile attempt to protect myself from the harsh reality I was too afraid to face. The thought of releasing myself from this cage, of confronting the truth head-on, was terrifying. I believed it would be easier to remain confined than to look myself in the eye and acknowledge the pain. Yet, in embracing stability, I unfolded like a flower long sheltered from the storm. In its gentle embrace, I discovered a new beginning, a tranquil home, and a comforting refuge from chaos—a relief and comfort I never knew I needed. Stability was not a choice but a triumph—the art of finding peace in everyday routines and grounding myself in the mundane. Finding escape now became a sanctuary where dreams took root and aspirations flourished, a testament to resilience. The period between chaos and stability was transformative, filled with explosive emotions and the eventual solace of stillness. It was a journey marked by turbulence and the gradual emergence of calm and balance.

My paintings encapsulate this narrative of resilience, each one a visual testament to the taxing journey from chaos to balance—emotional, mental, physical, financial, ethical, internal, external, relational, and rational stability. They share the many chapters within the journey towards embracing the many facets of stability after years of unrest: a celebration of the hard-won equilibrium, the balance now serving as the foundation of my life. - Taylor Robinson 2024