When I was a child I was brought up to believe that Pride was a Bad Thing. To be proud was to be uppity. To be proud was to be flawed. Pride in one’s achievements was a character blip, a lack of empathy for those around me.
This week I have had a number of opportunities to feel pride. At each one I have stopped to consider how my learnt responses in fact were/ are damaging, not only for myself but for my loved ones. I told you I overthink. But the mere fact I stopped means I am aware and thus I am outside the reaction: I can observe it. And therefore I can alter it.
So, when somebody says they are a fan of my work I’m going to consciously decide to believe they are telling me the truth, not just being polite. I have had a few endorsements like this recently, from non-family members and those unknown to me beforehand. I am choosing to entertain the thought that I might be adequately equipped to peruse a professional artist’s career. I am going to try to not only walk the walk, but talk the talk. Let’s hope it lasts.
PS Admission 1 will be posted shortly.
stitch-this.net 