I am a liar.
I tell the same lie to myself daily. I tell it to my family, my friends, my kids, and everyone who reads my posts.
I tell myself that other opinions do not matter, and that I don't need validation from anyone.
Hang on, my pants caught fire.
OK. Better.
I know why we tell ourselves that, at least I know why I tell myself that big fat falsehood. It is because I want it to be true. I don't want to hang my hat on the standards of other people. I want to move through my life, happily enjoying who I am and what I am about without looking for validation anyplace else. I want my kids to grow up completely fulfilled without needing someone else to tell them that they are ok.
I want that so badly.
But it isn't true, is it? At least not 100%. I put on makeup before I leave the house every single time. No matter where I am going. Work? Make-up. Play date for the kids? Make-up. Grocery Store? You had better believe make-up. I never used to, but then one day someone (that I love and I presume loves me) told me that I looked old. Ever since that day, no one has seen me without make-up on, except for my kids. (Believe me, make-up is not always pleasant in Las Vegas where I would swear you could burst into flames in the summertime.)
You might think that this isn't a big deal, lots of women do it. Exactly! Lots of women (though not all) make sure to never leave their house without at least a minimum of cosmetics. Why do we do this if we don't care about what other people think?
You want another example? Social. Media. Everything from Facebook and Instagram, twitter and even this blog. They are all cries for attention:
Like me!
Like my photos!
Like the photo of my expensive dinner!
Look how awesome my life is!
Validate me!
Validate!
I feel like a Dalek (if you don't watch Doctor Who, this will make no sense. Everyone else is now hearing a metallic voice in their head crying Val-i-date! Val-i-date!)
So even though I say that I don't care what people think of me, even though I really want to believe that about myself, evidence suggests that in actuality, I do.
This is especially true of creative artist types, like I aspire to be am. I draw and paint and write and everytime I share something, I hold my breath to see if anyone is going to like it... Every thumbs up or heart that I get is like those gold foil stars that teachers used to hand out in school. I lived my life trying to collect as many gold foil stars as I could. Little has changed.
I have worked so hard to develop my own view and style, and I know that it is different than what most other people do. On one hand, this is amazing, because it means that I have my own voice. On the other hand, this is terrifying because I have no idea how my drawings or paintings will be received. Will people respond positively, or will I get criticized because my figures are not realistic. This thought alone is enough to almost paralyze me. Some days I have to close my eyes to hit the Share button. Then I hold my breath and wait.
I can tell you that I have received all kinds of feedback. Some people really like what I put out there (though there are a few that I suspect like my art because of friendship or familial loyalty only, and don't really respond to the art itself). And then there are those who are indifferent, will passively click like out of habit, or ignore it altogether. Neither of these bother me. (and of course, the likes and loves make me feel absolutely amazing.)
Then there is the other kind. Not kind words, not gentle critique, not even ignoring me completely, but the scathing tear you down kind of comments that make me want to burn everything I have ever painted and never go near a pastel again.
"It's not really art, is it?"
"What is it supposed to be?"
"Can you even draw?"
"You should probably not share these. They aren't that good."
I deleted a friend over the last comment, but not before I seriously considered deleting all of my art and throwing away every pencil in my house.
Why do you let it get to you, Dawn? Why can't you just thumb your nose at these fools and just continue to be awesome on your own terms?
Why? I will tell you why... Because my inner critic is a real ass. My little voice is far harsher and more critical than anyone else could ever be. The little voice inside of me tells me that I can't draw, I can't write, and I might as well settle in for a long career of mediocrity because that is all I am good for. All it takes is one person to agree with critical Dawn for me to walk away and give up.
Ask me why I don't play music any more... Because a music teacher that I very much admired (no names will be mentioned, but she was an instructor in college) once told me that I wasn't very good and I wouldn't amount to much. At 19, I took those words to heart. From that moment on, every time I picked up my instrument, I could hear those words echoing in my mind, undermining my confidence, triggering all of my insecurities. It took a few years, but I never was able to progress past that level. Most likely because I no longer believed I could.
I will be damned if I am going to let that happen to me again.
My knee-jerk reaction is to defend myself and my skills (Actually, I can draw realistically, but I choose not to because this is the way I choose to see the world now... Actually, I feel that the particular techniques I am using take quite a bit of practice and restraint that it took me a long time to learn... Actually, I produce these paintings for my own satisfaction and I don't need your approval.)
My second reaction is to slink off and take my art with me, to hide it away and just pretend it didn't really exist in the first place.
The third reaction is what I try to do every time. Ignore the negativity of some people and move on to the next piece, sharing what I love and moving on, as though those negative opinions didn't matter to me (even though, deep down they do.)
I will just leave you with one thought. If your initial reaction is to tell someone that they can't do something, maybe swallow it. No one is perfect, and no one really wants to hear unconstructive criticism.
It is just plain mean, like a bully on a playground. Don't be that kid. If you don't have anything nice to say, etc.
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| Kiss, Soft Pastels on paper |
But since I can't control anyone but myself, I will try to remember the words of Pink. I will continue to do me, and if you don't like it, you can Blow Me (One Last Kiss).
