Thursday, 20 August 2009
Posted by Sarah Pellew
You know, there are days when you feel so happy, so full of optimism for the future. Yesterday was one of those days. I spent a wonderful day at my mum's house. She and I got on so well - really enjoying each other's company. My boys had a super time with their cousins, swimming and playing happily.
I took my artwork to show my family and they were very supportive - full of an enthusiasm that they don't often show. I journeyed home bursting with good feelings and the hope that I could do something with my art, do something with my life.
And today is one of those days when you feel low and wonder why you ever had the arrogance to presume that you could ever be successful at anything. I went from being full of beans to full of woe in one easy step. My paintings were rejected by a card company I had sent them to, my husband only has one day off this week and has chosen to go out tonight to a 40th birthday party without me, and my sons blame me for saying it was ok for him to go.
I am not fishing for compliments this time. This time I am just feeling my full 45 years. I know that I have to paint because I love it, paint because I would rather do that than anything else and if anyone likes my art and something good comes from it... well, then that is a great by product, but not the reason to do it. But rejection is hard to take.
I feel rejected by my Man, even though I know I am not. He very rarely goes out and its just the fact that today is his one day off and I will miss him that I resent this outing. I know he will not stay long and he will come back sober and in good time, but the fact that he chose the party over me is difficult to take.
Tonight I am just a big fat wallowy blob of self pity. Thank goodness I have my blog in which to lay down my misery. When I was in my 20's and at university writing was the one thing that kept me nearly sane. I used to write poetry to slash your wrists by... very dark and full of hormones! Luckily now I no longer feel the need for poetry, but to be able to stream my thoughts onto here empties me of some of my sadness.
For now I feel alone and pissed off and sick of being stuck here. I feel old and ugly and nothing.