Speed Bumps, Paint Brushes, and Resilience

This is my wife on day 2 of painting all day, sleep deprived (cuz I had the thermostat way too cold the night before) and just freezing in the cold trying to get a sunset painting done

Over the last six months, our household—and honestly, the entire nation—has felt like it’s been driving over hundreds of speed bumps in a car with 1980s suspension. We’ve been bounced up and down, rattled around, and had every nut and bolt shaken loose on this little trusty vehicle we’ve built—one that’s carried us through years of refining our life, work, and art.

We’ve started businesses, raised pets and plants, cycled through jobs, and gained and lost people. So where am I going with all this? I guess I’m just pausing to share a few of the major speed bumps we’ve hit recently—personally and professionally—and to offer a glimpse under the hood at what life looks like at the Martin house.

When my wife first started painting while she worked she painted at every possible opportunity, at lunch, after work, in the morning, for a full day on the weekend, whatever it took she did it! When she officially left the gaming industry, she was painting 2–3 pieces a day, nearly every day, for years. Her consistency on Instagram paid off—first 10K followers, then 100K. That took serious dedication—and it also meant that about a third of our house became a permanent art studio.

Speed Bump 1: The Algorithm Shift

She was about to paint those nice flowers you can see in the background

TikTok’s rise in 2019–2020. Most of her traffic and sales came from Instagram, which is owned by Meta. As TikTok grew, Meta pushed back hard by launching Reels, changing their algorithm to prioritize their new format. It tanked her visibility. Worse, we noticed what many creators call “soft blocking”—where engagement drops off a cliff for seemingly no reason.

The lesson? Artists don’t have many alternatives. Platforms hold enormous power. You can’t just pick up your audience and move. Sure, you can try ads or adopt whatever new feature they want you to use, but we were left feeling pretty disillusioned.

Speed Bump 2: Leaving Instagram

We drove up this really steep hill to get to this spot. We got really lucky with the light

My wife is a force of nature. She didn’t stop. She kept getting invited to prestigious events. She kept winning awards, selling paintings, and becoming someone other artists looked up to. Even though sales dropped by half, she doubled down on what we could control: local galleries, her website, her shop, real-world relationships.

Then came the election cycle. I’m not going to go off on a rant—there’s plenty of that online—but we felt the effects. The direction we saw companies and the government heading really didn’t sit right with us. So we acted. My wife and I left Instagram. We haven’t deleted our accounts completely, but we rarely check them. The problem is, not many people made the same move. Staying connected became harder. A lot of those people we cared about—or who cared about our work—were just… gone.

Speed Bump 3: I Lost My Job

Me feeling like ass in 80 degree temps just grinding up this 2 mile hill, that’s as much of a smile as you are gonna get

I lost my job right before the election (gasp—no, not now!!!!!). Okay, I knew it was coming, but it was still a tough pill to swallow. Unfortunately, I’ve been through this cycle many times. It’s just a common thing in games and tech. So I didn’t panic. I went to visit my dad, continued working on managing my anxiety, and tried to spend more time with my family. I also started planning how I’d use the next six months: a financial plan, a personal reset, and time to figure out what’s next (but I’ll save that for another post). Here we are—six months in and still not working—but I like to think I’ve found some interesting opportunities by supporting my wife and seeing where her incredible work might take us.

Morgan Hill plein Air 2025

We hiked up a very steep hill, she wore a gigantic pack full of gear (probably over 30 pounds of stuff) to find the waterfalls

So, after all that she is still at it and just wrapped up a competition in Morgan Hill which is an invite only event so everyone is hand picked to compete. She and 14 other artists participated in a plein air painting event. That means they go outside—yes, with all their gear—and paint what they see: landscapes, buildings, animals, whatever captures their interest. They do this for about three days straight. The only rules: paint in open air, stay within 20 miles of the gallery, and submit no more than six paintings. These works are then judged in a gallery show, with awards handed out and the pieces displayed for sale for the next month.

Sounds simple, right? It’s not. To get good at plein air painting, you have to paint—a lot.

First painting of the trip, my personal favorite

After over an hour of driving and a fast approaching migraine headache we found a spot!

I haven’t really participated in a plein air event like this in years, mostly because of my debilitating anxiety. I’ve never liked being away from home. Being out in the middle of the woods or being alone for hours with nothing to do. That used to be a nightmare scenario for me. But this time, I had a chance to figure it out and support my wife unconditionally. She’s the one putting her art business on pause to take a contract job and bring in steady income while I figure my shit out—so the least I could do was show up.

Me running up massive hills to burn some time

So I sucked it up. I packed my bug-out bag (a very textbook anxious-person move), filled it with snacks, books, a notebook, hiking gear—and I just did whatever she needed for four days. We went to some of the most beautiful spots in the area. And—hold the phone—I ran alone. Believe me, I was gripped on that first trail run. It was steep, hot, isolated, and I was completely triggered. But I did it. And I kept going. I ended up doing two long trail runs and a hike while she painted. I gave myself space to just exist, to forest bathe (as the Japanese say), and it felt amazing.

Contemplating my next move, first is sunscreen, next is idk… a trail run?

Final Reflection

If you’re feeling stuck, if you can’t find your next job or make progress on your own path—try helping someone else. If you can’t help yourself, be useful to someone close to you. There’s always something you can do for someone else—and in the process, it might just crack you out of whatever funk you’re in. That’s why I’m sharing all this. If this post helps even one person get unstuck, then the time I spent writing it was worth it.

My wife made this for me ages ago because I mentioned that she was my rock that held me down and she thought it was funny because it could be interpreted as something that was holding me back when what I ment was she kept me from flying away. She of course made a comic about it and this rock

This isn’t just a love letter to my wife (though she deserves every word). It’s about the strength that shows up when your back’s against the wall. It’s about staying in the boat, grabbing an oar, and rowing—even when you’re not sure where you’re headed. We’ve run marathons and ultramarathons together—10+ hours of pain and mental warfare that make you feel indestructible when it’s done. That resilience is real. And when life throws chaos your way, sometimes all you can do is lean on your people, keep moving, and trust that it’s making you stronger.

So yeah—this is a celebration. Of grit. Of art. Of change. Of partnership. And if you’ve got someone in your life who’s your steady hand, give them a thank you today.

Links to Heather’s Work

For info about her art visit her shop here

For info about the Colibri Gallery check out this link here

And if you want to follow her on her medium of choice here’s her substack and bluesky account