i really want to know.

 

as a gal with a master’s degree in human resource education,  i always envisioned myself working in the business world.  and i did, for about a decade.  i had cute tailored business suits, and spent most of my days training employees, giving presentations, and creating marketing tools for our business.  i’d intended to get my husband through his professional degree, and then decide where my career would take me next.  i was young, hopeful, and full of energy.

then everything changed.  five years ago, i got sick.  i mean, really fucking sick.  i had numerous fainting spells (and subsequent concussions), and days i called “flu days” because everything hurt and i would be so dizzy that i couldn’t get out of bed.  i began missing work.  i tried to commit to a part-time schedule, but months later, i couldn’t even do that.  i went from doctor to doctor trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with me.  finally, almost a year after my first symptoms, i had a diagnosis.

i have a rare illness called postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome (or POTS).  it is a chronic autonomic nervous system disorder.  in short, my body has trouble regulating my heart rate, so i am at risk of passing out anytime i stand from a lying or sitting position.  it prevents me from standing for long periods of time, and it causes those dreaded “flu days.”  it sucks as much as it sounds.

i began noticing that i was slowly letting the illness become my identity.  i felt sorry for myself.

i felt cheated.  why me?  no seriously, WHY ME?!  after months of this “why me” mentality, my husband gave me a reality check.  “maybe don’t just sit at home and feel sorry for yourself,” he said.  “find a new passion.”  he asked me what i’d always wanted to do.  i panicked.  i truly didn’t have an answer.

then it hit me.  i had always been a right-brained gal.  creativity was everything to me.  i blurted out that i wanted to be an artist; specifically, i wanted to be a painter.  i had a lot of artistic and design talent, and we were both collectors of original art, but i’d literally never held a paintbrush in my life.  before i could question my hasty answer, we were heading to the art supply store.

my head was spinning.  i didn’t know what the hell i needed to get started.  there were so many types of paint:  watercolor, acrylic, oil… heavy body, medium body, everybody (man, i love that backstreet boys song).  an easel, a canvas, six paintbrushes, and a few tubes of acrylic paint later, i was officially an abstract artist.  at first, i felt like an imposter.  i hadn’t gone to art school.  what made me think i could paint a damn thing?

from that first stroke of paint, however, i was in love.  as evidenced below, my first few paintings were definitely crude.  but it was so therapeutic.  it beat watching mindless judge shows on tv all day.  then i realized why i’d wanted to paint.  painting was giving me a voice.  i had a lot of pain, a lot of confusion, a lot of anger built up, and painting was helping me work through those feelings.  abstract art was perfect for me:  i could use the brush strokes to tell a story, to work through my emotions, to find a way to connect with others on this cerebral level.

i started getting treatment for my POTS, and i started to feel better physically.  my art improved, and i started to feel better mentally.  what was once just a way to pass time became my world.  when i sold my first painting, i cried.  like, ugly cried.  then i screeched and hugged my husband; he’d thrown me  a life preserver.  i felt liberated.  i felt empowered.  i started to feel like the person i truly wanted to be:  the one who was self-confident, bubbly, not afraid of a challenge.

today, i have multiple commissions and sales under my belt, as well as public relations appearances, a beautiful website, and a brand-new retail gig right here in indianapolis.  i couldn’t be happier.

i no longer allow my illness to define me.  i found my passion; i found my identity.  i am stacey stallons, visual artist.