Man, 2026. What a ride. I remember kicking off that year feeling this weird itch, you know? Like something was just telling me I needed to try something different, something totally outside my comfort zone. It felt like a push, a nudge towards a whole new direction, and I just decided to lean into it. That whole feeling, that was the start of what I now call “my path” for the year.
I’d always messed around with drawing and sketching, just for myself, never really showing anyone. But this time, it was different. I started thinking, “What if I could actually make something with this? Something tangible?” So, I just decided. I was going to try and make some actual art pieces, simple stuff, and see if anyone would even look at them. I went out and bought some cheap canvases, a bunch of paints I’d never used before, and just cleared out a corner of my little apartment. That was step one: commit.
Then came the actually doing it. I spent weeks, probably months, just throwing paint around. Most of it was absolute junk, total garbage. I’d scrap half of what I started. My hands were always stained, my clothes too. My cat probably thought I was insane, just sitting there staring at a canvas for hours. I was trying out different styles, different colors, just trying to find something that clicked. It felt like I was searching in the dark sometimes, bumping into walls. I kept a little notebook, scribbling down ideas, what worked, what didn’t. It wasn’t pretty, just a bunch of messy notes.
After a while, I had a small stack of pieces that didn’t make me cringe too much. Then came the next hurdle: how do you even show this to people? I’m not exactly a tech wizard. I spent hours wrestling with my phone trying to take decent pictures. The lighting was always off, the colors never looked right. It was a nightmare. I watched some videos online, super basic stuff, just trying to get the hang of angles and natural light. Eventually, I cobbled together a few photos that were, well, okay. Not great, but okay.
The thought of putting them online, of people actually seeing them, honestly terrified me. My stomach was in knots. But that little voice, that “path” feeling, just kept nudging. So I swallowed my fear, picked a really simple platform, and just uploaded them. Typed out some short descriptions, picked some prices that felt ridiculously low, and then I just published it. I remember just sitting there, staring at my screen, heart pounding. For days, nothing. Just silence. I was sure I’d made a huge mistake, felt like a fool.
Then, out of nowhere, an email! A notification! Someone actually bought one! My cheapest, smallest piece, but someone out there liked it enough to pay for it. I literally jumped out of my chair. It wasn’t about the money at all; it was about the validation, that someone connected with something I made. That feeling, that moment, it was everything. It told me I wasn’t completely crazy for following this weird “path.”
From there, it was a constant learning curve. I figured out how to package stuff, how to ship it, how to answer questions from people. I got some not-so-great feedback, too, which stung like hell, but it also pushed me to try harder, to improve. Some pieces sold fast, others just sat there gathering digital dust. I kept painting, kept trying new things, kept sharing. It wasn’t smooth, never easy, but every tiny step, every little win, it just kept me going.
Looking back now, as 2026 wraps up, it’s wild to see how much I actually did. I started with nothing but a vague idea and a nagging feeling, and I pushed through all the awkward, difficult parts. This whole year was just about taking that first step, and then the next, and the next, even when I had no clue where I was really going. It wasn’t some grand plan, just a lot of figuring things out on the fly. And you know what? It feels pretty damn good to know I walked that path.
