Holding Too Much: On Being an Artist, Tired

Lately, I’ve been sitting with a quiet sadness.

Not the dramatic kind.

The slow, heavy kind that comes from carrying too many things at once.

I’m tired.

I’m tired of being told I what I do is time wasting because I offer free creative sessions.

Tired of trying to prove that community work has value even when it isn’t profitable.

Tired of holding space for everyone else while quietly needing support myself.

I had to dissolve my CIC because of lack of support and ongoing administration challenges, on top of very limited funding. That decision wasn’t made lightly. It felt like closing a chapter I had poured my heart into. But running something structured without structural support , especially as an AuDHD artist , became unsustainable.

Now I work freelance.

I’m deeply grateful to have one very loyal organisation that hires me regularly. Their trust means more than I can say. I will always go above and beyond to support them — paid or not — because mutual respect matters. I’ve also had a few beautiful opportunities in Hertfordshire that I’m truly thankful for. Those moments remind me that the work has value not the free activities through some people’s eyes.

And I am genuinely happy and blessed to have been shortlisted as Cultural Champion for the Civic Awards 2025. That recognition means something. It tells me the impact is seen.

But recognition doesn’t remove exhaustion.

I don’t have a studio. I’ve searched for something affordable and local, but it feels impossible. My materials live in different places — boxes here, bags there. When my current contract ends (in 6 months), I won’t have that shared space anymore. And at home, there isn’t room to store everything.

I’m scared of having to stop.

I feel disappointed when organisations ask me to run free workshops “if I have funding” — when I don’t. And they do. Artists are often expected to give endlessly, as if passion replaces payment.

It doesn’t.

Sometimes I work in environments that aren’t neurodivergent-friendly. Bright lights. Noise. Fast expectations. Networking culture. I’m not good at networking. I’m good at depth. I’m good at care. I’m good at creating meaning from fragments.

People think I’m successful. But often, what they’re seeing is masking. Delivering. Smiling. Coping.

Being an artist means having a thousand ideas and not always having the time, energy, money, or space to realise them.

Potential needs support.

You can’t show your true potential when you’re carrying everything alone.

Right now, I don’t have solutions. I just know I want:

• Peace.

• Rest without guilt.

• A stable creative space.

• Fair exchange for my work.

• And support that doesn’t require overperformance first.

Being an artist is beautiful.

But it is also heavy.

And sometimes, even the strongest creative hands need holding too.