A difficult friendship

‘As long as there’s hope, there’s life’, they say. I’m not sure if I agree with that.

I have a difficult relationship with hope.

As I kid, I hoped that promises would be kept. They were not. So I learned, at an early age, that hoping was likely going to be followed by a disappointment. No better way to learn to stop hoping. So that’s what I did. Just to protect myself.

I even took it a step further. I would make appointments, plan things, sometimes I would even strive for something I wanted, and then, next, I would expect the worst. Getting a ‘NO’ from life, basically. But, and now comes the nice part, when I did get what I wanted, I was completely surprised and utterly grateful. Because I wasn’t expecting a positive outcome.

I really thought it was a smart way to handle life. Because it was working. Or was it?

Actually, I was surviving most of the time, yes. But was I living? Was I making the most of my time here? Not exactly…

Over the past four years, I have been building a friendship with hope. It’s a slow process, a scary one. Because I have to leave my self-protection mechanism behind, and step into the unknown. Learning to believe that I deserve the things I’m striving for is a big step.

I started with little things. Posting my art on Instagram, mentioning it was available, setting up a website, apply for an art gallery. The chance of getting a no was present, but I knew I could handle it.
My courage has grown, and so have my aspirations: I want to share my story, I want to be able to continue to afford this artist life (because I love it!), I want to sell my art on art fairs, online, at events. I want to be the best painter I can possibly be, and continue to enjoy the process.

Do I believe that I deserve all of this? I do.
Is it scary? It is.
Am I going to do it anyway? I am.