The Lows

This is a low. I haven’t relapsed, it isn’t a depressive low. I am, like I posted yesterday, suffering from a major confidence dip in terms of my painting career. More like a plummet. It’s one of those days I spend in front of my easel where I doubt everything: my subject, my medium, my talent, my drawing abilities, my painting abilities, my ability to convey something to an audience, my ability to produce a painting. All I can see is all the uninterested, hostile faces who’ll pass over it disdainfully. Last year I thought I was producing paintings that no one will ever see, this year I am terrified that people ARE going to see them.

It’s been like wading through mud recently, my painting practice. Have you ever tried to paint while crying? It’s hard. And faintly ridiculous I realise too, how melodramatic!

So back to mindfulness. No believing the thoughts, simply observing them as they come and go. And observing the low days (and months) as they come and go.

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