Holy Shit, I’m Doing it!

I had a moment yesterday of complete peace and exhilaration while working at my internship. I was building a new poster when the thought hit me:
“Holy Shit, I'm doing it. I’m out and doing what I want to do”

It was a totally original thought, one I had never allowed myself to fully believe before, and I was a little shocked it had taken this long to arrive.

But what exactly am I doing? What did I make it out of?

I was feeling so stuck—in my career, in my life, in Indiana. I’d been working in the same industry for years. At one point it felt like family... until it started feeling like that kind of family. The kind that judges your choices. That tells you, flat-out, that “you’re going to hell.” The kind that makes inappropriate comments at dinner and pretends it’s normal. It wasn’t where I wanted to be. Not anymore.

Every day at work, I would fantasize about escape. I looked at vans to convert into a home, artist residencies, cabins in the middle of nowhere. I schemed constantly about how I could afford any of it. But I’d end each day feeling just as trapped—like I was spinning my wheels, stuck in place, waiting for a sign.

At the start of the year, I traveled, looking for new “land,” new possibilities. I met other printers, went on cute dates, and started to see the shape of a different life—one that welcomed me as I am, not in spite of who I am.

I started applying for residencies all over the country. But I wasn’t having much luck. I had no CV, no formal art education, and nothing to show I’d fully committed to my craft. Then I heard about the internship at Hatch Show Print—and decided, this would be my pry bar. My way out.
And then—POP—I got it. I was out.

This wasn’t a small thing, as you know from previous posts. It took a leap of faith, with no clear ground beyond Hatch. I quit my job, sold my house, packed up the car, and drove to Nashville with my dog for my first day of “school.”

This internship has been amazing. I’m learning something new Every. Single. Day, and I know the experience will shape my work forever. The connections I’ve made are priceless. Every morning I’ve been excited to walk through that door—ready to see what comes next.

But I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t still a low hum of fear. The though of “what’s next” still lingers.

Almost every week, I’d contact a friend in a minor panic. I’d joke, half-laughing, “I’m homeless, jobless, and doing great.” They’d talk me off the ledge, remind me I’m not about to end up playing a tuba on Thompson Lane for change. More importantly, they reminded me: I’m doing this. I can do this.

And finally—this week—it sank in.
Holy Shit! I’m doing it.
I’m out and doing what I want. 

I got out of a life that was choking me. Smothering me. Not to be extreme but it was breaking me down in ways I couldn’t ignore anymore.

Now, I’m free. I’m secure, for the moment. And I’m looking forward to whatever comes next—whatever next may be.