Over the past 24 hours I have lost 4 days worth of writing and the painting I was working on. I’m really trying not to get upset, but it’s really not going well. The painting was my fault, I shouldn't have left my paints out, and it’s flattering that my daughter just wanted to help mommy. I couldn’t even really get mad at her, I just had to fight back the tears so she wouldn’t feel bad. At least she picked a salvageable color! The writing was something else entirely. While I should have backed it up, it was careless human error and I am pissed the fuck off, because it wasn’t mine, and wasn’t the first time. There was so much, I just lost sooo much. I can't fucking believe it. Most rational people might be able to jump back in and get back to it, but I get discouraged really easily as the last three paintings I completed (in 94 and 95) were 1. destroyed (incidentally, by John’s niece, who is kind of like my other daughter, and is now 16, but was the exact same age as my girl when it happened--I should have known better then, too), 2. stolen, probably left to be thrown in a trash can. Each time it was harder than the last to pick up a brush and put my time and soul into another painting. After the last two were taken from me, I didn’t do any artwork at all for a few years. No sketching, drawing, nothing. When all my old writing got locked away in a storage unit in
I can’t write right now. I’m forcing myself to try to get the paint off the picture so I can try to salvage it. I know it doesn’t look like much, but it’s very layered (I’m aware I’m showcasing that I’m not a very good painter, but this was my first in 10+ years, so please cut me a little slack). I’ve been working on it off an on for several years, and I was only a few hours from completion. I think it can be fixed (it's acrylic), maybe. I’m going to make myself try. [It happened while I was out for a little bit, John was sick on the couch and she was in here by herself, I didn't even notice it until the next morning, when it was too late to wipe off.]
The writing is gone, completely. I have very few written notes, because as I said before, I was on a roll the other day. There were several different projects and essays lost (the hockey Eulogy was part of it). I’m going to try really hard to make myself write today, but I feel so defeated right now, I can’t get motivated. It takes me months to get up the confidence to think it’s ok to believe that I might have some sort of fucking worth, and it’s only shit like this that can take it from me. Sorry, nobody said you guys were dealing with a model of self-esteem here. This is just a warning, I’m really going to be battling the negativity (and PMS) at least until I can get something down that isn’t complete shit, so if I lose you, I totally understand. Thanks for your support. I need to do some fucking yoga or something. I’m really in shock right now.
To make matters worse, I watched the first video from
Not a good day for my confidence. Not a good fucking day at all.
I had to get out of the house for awhile, and away from the computer today, as I couldn’t resist the urge to keep searching for some form of the document. On one errand I went to go pick up some old 35mm pictures that my daughter took with her first camera between when she was still only about a year old and about two, they really, really cheered me up. The painting hurt when I first found it and discouraged me a bit, but when my daughter sensed, no matter how much I tried to hide it, that it really hurt my feelings she was following me around cuddling up to me, she is very sweet. So now I’m determined to fix it and tell her that this time she helped me make it better, BUT please don’t ever "help" mommy without asking again.
I can’t get over the writing. This has happened a few times over the past few months, but nothing like this. I had written the first dialogue for a fictional story that I have EVER been REALLY happy with. The kind that you sit back to read it and are shocked that you actually typed it out. That was a big deal to me because I talk weird, so I’m afraid I write conversations the same way. The hockey story, while it’ll be a pain in the ass, I’ll be able to recall a lot of it, even though I was pretty much finished with it, as it's the same shit I've been spewing for many, many years. The other thing that I lost was a piece about my daughter and how fucking amazing she is, and how she makes me a better person, and makes me want to pursue what is important in life. It was something I might have never done anything with, because it was so personal, but I was proud of it, and wanted to be able to give it to her someday. There were other things lost, too, but they weren’t the ones I keep trying to replay over and over in my mind, trying to write down key points that I still remember. But I hadn’t started editing any of them except the Hockey Eulogy, yet, so I’d only read each of them one or two times. Since she’s been in daycare lots of stuff has been spurting out, and it helps a lot, ‘cause there’s a lot of personal family shit going on that I can’t write or post about here. I’m just going to force myself to stick with it like I did 6 months ago when I started this piece of shit blob (not a typo).
Yoga does help, with a little soft crying, but the yoga did really fucking help. I purposely didn’t make the call to inform him of his most recent blunder until I was sure I could let go of the anger while I was on the phone. I’m glad I did, because I would have got stuck on the frustration. I didn’t let it get to me that he didn’t seem to get the gravity of the situation.
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