Infuse your work with the frustration-fueled creativity that emerges from the chaos threatening your peace of mind

I try to plan my months, weeks, and days. I pick out stuff to get done, and mostly I make progress, chipping away at the projects day after day. Then a tick walks across my face at three o’clock in the morning and my world quickly shifts.

That was over a week ago. There have been three more ticks in my bed, the most recent on my neck at thee o’clock in the morning.

I’ve been scrambling to stop this tick infestation. I gathered the piles of sticks and got them away from the dogs; I trimmed the wild areas back, and sprayed a non-toxic repellent (Wondercide); I check the dogs and myself constantly. I haven’t figured it out yet.

We have a big yard, two dogs, and a cat. We give the dogs monthly tick pills but that doesn’t stop the little bastards from hitching a ride inside. Ticks can hitch a ride on us, too. It’s insidious and frustrating and a little frightening.

This is the worst year after three years of this. Five years ago, ticks were not a problem in our subdivision. Now it’s one of the main topics in our neighborhood Facebook group, right up there with teenagers driving too fast and dog walkers angering folks by leaving poop behind in their path.

I’m in a struggle of chaos versus order. It’s low-stakes compared to most of the world, but I’m trying my best to avoid one of the many diseases these six-legged, blood-sucking monsters share with their hosts. Also, it’s creepy as hell to be rudely awakened at three o’clock in the morning by a parasite on your face.

We must fight through the messiness of life to make time to do our art. I had to rearrange some of my daily duties to deal with the ticks but I still made time to write.

There seems no other way, to me. To run in fear from the ticks would be to move our home to a paved-over community with no dogs and cats, a place so meticulous in its landscaping that not even a mouse would find refuge, and still you’d have to spray deadly chemicals to suppress the insects.

To escape the chaos, we may think we need to find a safe place. Of course, the chaos follows. We bring it with us, just like dogs and cats bring the ticks in the house.

I’m trying to get good at dealing with the ticks, checking the dogs after being outside, using (non-toxic) repellent on them and me, and the aforementioned yard work. I’d rather not deal with it, but I don’t want to waste additional time wishing I were elsewhere, thinking I’ll be safe.

I’m writing a humor piece about tick infestation, channeling that anger into art. (Not high art, by any means, since I mention how ticks like to burrow in your butt crack and behind the scrotum, but art nonetheless).

The world, in general, is in a pretty-intense state of chaos. The GOP seeks to establish a fascist state. Israel and Palestine are in an existential struggle, and tens of thousands of innocent people have died. We’re in a climate crisis.

Use your art to understand how you feel about what’s happening. Create something meaningful to you. Share that with others.

What you create is up to you. You can draw, write poetry, or send a letter to the editor. You can figure out how to landscape your yard to support butterflies and bees (but maybe not so much the ticks). You can infuse your work with the frustration-fueled creativity that emerges from the chaos threatening your peace of mind.

Carve out time to do your art.

A month ago, my cat started waking me up early in the morning. Some days at four o'clock, other days six o'clock. In my frustration I muttered, “It's a good thing we're not married because I'd divorce you.” That spurred an idea for a humor piece.

Greener Pastures published this quiz I wrote: Aging House Cat or Spouse of 20+ Years.

Again, low-stakes, but I channeled chaos into art.