Draw Your Line

Draw Your Line

Drawing a line might seem simple, but holding it is always the hardest part.

I’ve forever been an advocate of boundaries. During my corporate career, I tirelessly advocated for wellbeing, work-life balance and had very set boundaries around where work started and ended. No matter how behind I got or however busy things were at work, my weekends were sacred. Of course, I’d have the odd thought about work and what was coming up the following week, but I always ensured I didn’t actually do any work and that I’d make the most of the weekends to chill and recover. We work to live, right? Not the other way round.

“We work to live, right?”

I’d log on the following Monday and see emails from colleagues who’d worked over the weekend, trying to get ahead. They often said they couldn’t relax until they’d finished what they couldn’t manage during the week. I saw how easily this cycle formed — endless meetings, trying to be all things to all people, even doing tasks meant for their teams out of a need to control. At the root of it all? An inability (or unwillingness) to say ‘no’ — to themselves, to unrealistic expectations, or to that ‘one more thing.’

I always told myself I would never be like that. I coached my teams to never be like that. I called it out in others when I saw anyone being like that…

It’s nearly 12 months since I left the corporate world and started my own business. Cue LOTS of work - setting up websites, email sequences, learning photography, creating prints - learning new skills like sales & marketing, social media. A lot, basically.

Don’t get me wrong - there isn’t a part of running my business I don’t enjoy (even doing the books!) but something I hadn’t realised until a few weeks ago was that my boundaries had slipped. Well, ‘slipped’ is being kind. ‘Disappeared’ is probably more accurate.

“Well, ‘slipped’ is being kind.”

Instead of doing a 9-5 and keeping my weekends clear, I was all over the shop - checking my socials every ad break during a TV programme, creating that one more bit of content while David was watching the weather at 10.30pm…

Of course, working in a creative field is very different to corporate. People don’t message you during the day during working hours, art events are always in the evenings or over weekends. And, from my experience at least, creative heads are far harder to switch off than corporate ones… “ooh, that’d be good…!” You know how it goes…

It’s funny how we don’t notice these things until much further down the line, where these behaviours almost become a bit habitual. It’s only when the impact of these things starts to present itself when we really notice.

I was having a day a few weeks ago - you know the ones - where every little thing is being sent to test you. Well, the reality is, those little things happen all the time, but what’s different when we really notice it? Our emotional resources are depleted, that’s what. Our ability to just suck it up and get on with it has momentarily left the building. We’re tired, we’re frustrated, we’re on our last nerve. We’re at the point where, if we had a match to hand, we’d burn it all to the ground.

I used to be a pro at spotting that in myself and others when I was at work. Iconic in fact. So what was different now?

When I’ve stepped back to think about it, I think it could be a few things. The first thing is, I bloody love what I do - genuinely, all of it. Compare that to corporate life, where we’re often chomping at the bit to get to the end of the day and switch off. There’s kind of an impetus there to have boundaries - because you want them!

But even when you’re doing something you love, you still need to have boundaries. Loving it doesn’t make it any less tiring. You might love creating content, but your brain and nervous system doesn’t love it at 10.30pm, just before you’re about to go to bed!

even when you’re doing something you love, you still need to have boundaries.”

Funnily enough, my epiphany didn’t come during a late night rendezvous with Instagram… it came midway through an afternoon when I was scanning some of my originals. I’d woken up with a bit of a headache and it was one of those days when the world was against me - every piece of cutlery I tried to put in the dishwasher fell through the tray onto the floor, I got my jumper caught on every door handle in the apartment before spilling toothpaste all over it. You know the ones.

The perfect day to do something really technical like scanning, right!? What was I thinking…

The hand-eye co-ordination hadn’t improved and a couple of scans in, I realised I was blindly trying to do something I wasn’t in the headspace for that day. I thought “what could I do instead?”, automatically thinking about business stuff. I wanted to paint, but nothing too technical that needed loads of prep. But I knew I needed something to calm my nervous system.

So I had a look through my tools and stumbled across some Liquitex paint markers I’d bought ages ago and barely used. That was it - quick and simple, no mess & also played to a concept idea I’d had a while ago about simple black lines.

It turns out that drawing ultra-fine black lines on white paper isn’t particularly calming for your optic nerve, but the more lines I drew, the more clear they became. The act of slowing down and carefully drawing those lines one after the other became a meditation session & I gradually became calmer. That mindful act of self care completely changed my mood and mindset for the rest of the day.

The act of slowing down and carefully drawing those lines one after the other became a meditation session”

Those black lines were symbolic. An important moment of realisation and the need to listen to myself rather than push through. A reminder of the importance of boundaries, even when you think you’re doing what you love and you’re enjoying it.

Those lines became the Lines Collection - the latest additions to my fine art stationery collection. I’ve treated myself to my very own ‘Slims’ hardback journal (my personal favourite), so I can continue to work on my boundaries during my daily journaling and remind myself that I need to continue to find release and calm in the simplest of acts. Stylish, abstract reminders that even the most simple of lines need to be protected long after you’ve drawn them.

So, I’ll leave you with this question: where might you need to redraw your own lines?

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