All in all, it's been a crappy week for me. My three kids have all come down sick this week at varying times, prompting multiple trips to the doctor. They were kind enough to share with me too, though by the time it came my turn to go to the doctor we were out of money (after paying for office visits and prescriptions galore). I probably would not have gone anyway, seeing as I will not go in for anything less than the bubonic plague (and then only to the clinic up the street to lance the boils - I refuse to go to the hospital unless I'm unconscious for it). I have soldiered through work even with a sore throat, headache, and just general achiness all over, even had a phone meeting in the middle of my night (I work nights, so sleep in the daytime when all the meetings are scheduled for, so I have to stagger out of bed and pretend to be conscious for an hour while listening to the inane babbling of superiors going over the same information that everyone else was too lazy to read in their emails). My house is a complete nightmarish mess. While my house is usually in some state of disarray, it does not usually get this bad. I can't even put my kids to work since they are all in various stages of recovery from illness as well. My husband works long hours so doesn't have time (or inclination) for housework. Oh, and my washer broke this week too. Water all over the floor, so that adds a massive mountain of dirty laundry waiting to be washed in the middle of my already small living room since nowhere else in the house is big enough to hold it.



So you can imagine my current state of mind, yes? Well, as with every day, I come in to check on dA. I skim through and read some journals, answer a poll or two, look at lots of deviations and a few I really like. In my wandering, I end up browsing through my own gallery. A great wave of disgust and despair washes over me. All the pretty things I've worked so hard to make, and they look like so much waste-of-time rubbish. I wanted to delete them all, throw in the towel, close down my account here, and call my art hobby a wash - move on with my life and quit pretending I could actually get anywhere with this. In other words, I was seriously wallowing in a dirty puddle of self-pity. It was sad. It was disturbing. I was mildly horrified at myself, so much so that I felt the need to confess my sins in this here journal as a form of punishment. I know the majority of my feelings were just brought on by being sickly and having a seriously bad week, but normally I derive comfort and joy from my artistic endeavors. Instead, at this particular time, they just gave me another source of self-loathing, another example of my not being good enough, not succeeding at something yet again.

So, my question to you is this. Do you guys out there suffer from self doubt when it comes to your art? And if you do, what helps you combat it?








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~ CLUBS ~