How Distraction Keeps Me from Breaking Down
“Not now,” I told myself as I felt a whiff of sadness seeping in. “I have things to do, and I don’t want my children to see me sad.” A philosophy that works sometimes, but as many parents know, there isn’t much time to sulk on personal problems when you have children to raise and a house to manage.
I looked forward to my personal play day. A day for me to showcase my artwork at a local gallery. It was a day designed to celebrate women, and I was offered the opportunity to show my artwork during their one-day exhibition. I was thrilled!
It’s the first time I submitted multiple pieces to be viewed publicly. Surprisingly, as the date approached, I didn’t haunt myself with doubtful thoughts. Questions like, “how will my artwork be received, or will people show up to the event” wasn’t a worry. I was excited to be a part of something that I makes me feel alive.
I was no longer a spectator.
This opportunity was important to me, so I was proactive. I didn’t wait until the last minute to prepare. I began finalizing incomplete art pieces and completing new pieces in advance. This kept my anxiety low, and my confidence and courage soared. I see now that preparation is a huge part of success. This was the first time my creative artistry was going to tell a story out loud. It wasn’t hiding anymore, and neither was I.
But while preparing, I noticed something off about the event’s preparation. There barely was any. On their social media page, there was one post that said, “Women’s Celebration, Event Coming Soon.” The flyer showed a picture of two women that gave little to the imagination. I could see question marks in the eyes of followers as they scrolled over the flyer.
However, since I have been following this page for a while, I knew this was their second annual event and had an idea of what it was about. So, I showed interest by commenting on the post. Later, the page administrator sent me a message inquiring if I would like to participate.
We worked out the details, and I was off to making sure I was ready for this fun opportunity to socialize, enjoy the creative talents of other artists, and showcase my art. Yet, as the date approached there was minimal promotion of the event. The host said she would send me a flyer to promote it and that took a while. She sent it three days before the event.
The yellow caution light should have been flashing! I was a bit skeptical, but when I saw the flyer and how she featured an art piece of mine on it, I became a giddy little kid.
I shared the flyer on my social media platforms and personally invited people to come. This isn’t like me. Normally, I am very timid about my artistic endeavors. I was transforming before my eyes.
When the day came to drop off my artwork, I knew I wanted to be on time. So, I pushed hard to get everything well packed and make it there within the requested timeframe. I made it to the area on time and was able to breathe easier, but I couldn’t find the location. The GPS said I was there, but in my head, I was thinking, “this couldn’t be it.”
So, I called the host. I introduced myself and told her I couldn’t find the location. She sounded irritated and began interrogating me to see if I was at the right location, and it turns out I was. The place was more like a house, no problem, but it looked under construction. There was a toilet and wood panels outside next to the garage. The yard was fenced off and had a green covering over the fence. It was the kind of covering that suggested, don’t look at me, I’m under construction.
She inquired if the garage was open because she had a worker in there fixing up the place. I told her that the garage wasn’t open and there wasn’t a car outside. With frustration, she asked me to wait there, and she would be on her way back. “She should’ve been here anyway,” I thought. As I’m waiting for her to arrive, her contractor pulls up. He opens the garage, and I see freshly painted white walls and paint buckets everywhere.
“The place isn’t ready,” I whispered to myself!
The contractor comes over and tells me it is okay to leave my artwork inside. He shows me a room to store my art, but the room was filled with machinery. I declined that offer and found a space in an empty room closer to where the gallery was supposed to be. I didn’t feel good about what I saw. It was a garage of a home that they were in the process of converting into a gallery.
The space was empty. No decor, no ambiance! He tells me that he just finished painting the walls yesterday and that he is working alone. There was still paint on the floors, and I couldn’t see how they would pull this event off within two days. Unless it would be in a way that my grandma used to say, “half assed.”
I left and drove away feeling uneasy. I know I am an emerging artist, yet I am a seasoned professional. I could see that this event was not organized. I called my dad to share my concerns and dashed back to pick up my art. I could not allow myself to be a part of this!
I picked up my art and told the contractor that I would personally reach out to the host. She beat me to it though. She sent me a sassy email saying that I was supposed to leave my artwork. Also, if I didn’t want to be a part of the show to let her know, and she would delete the post of the flyer advertising my artwork.
I replied and shared my reasoning of why I took back my artwork: the unprepared location and the lack of organization of the event. I also noted her irritable tone in the email. I wrote with tact and earnest because in my mind we may potentially work together in the future. I thought she may have wanted that too, when I initially read her response.
She mentioned how life has been hard and that someone close to her is dying. Instantly, I felt for her. It’s no excuse for her poor attitude, but people handle difficulties differently. She also shared that this event is more like a fun, free event, and the gallery won’t actually open until the following month. As I read on, she proceeded to tell me that she has two art degrees and worked at galleries with quality artwork and “cardboard” isn’t it.
Nice jab!
I’m an eco-friendly artist that “turns moving boxes into wall art.” I enjoy using what is around me to create and it happens to be cardboard. So, I use it, and I love it! She knows what my artistry is about, praised my work on social media, and then invited me to showcase at her gallery. Yet, when I withdrew myself from the event, she slammed my artwork. It reminds me of how a guy asks a girl out and when she says no, he talks bad about her. That’s exactly what this situation feels like.
THE DISTRACTION
I drove home feeling low. I was totally disappointed. The event gave me something to look forward to. It was finally something for me. Though, I needed to get my emotions in check. I had to pick up my children from school in 20 minutes. It sucks forcing myself to be okay when I am not; yet there is little time for that when your energetic kids are around and look up to you.
So, I tried my best to act interested and cheerful around them, but inside I was gloomy. I even shared what happened with my oldest. She’s empathetic and showed concern for me. It felt nice. She reminded me that I am not alone.
However, within minutes I was bombarded with “Mom, can I have a snack?” “Mom, look at this?” “Mom, can you play with me?” The disappointment got compartmentalized, and I went back to what I do best, being a mom.
I’m not over it but living through my disappointment helped me tremendously because I wasn’t able to sulk. Festering pain is the worst!
Pulling myself away from my pain helps me deal with it. Writing about it helps me heal. Maintaining my dignity allows me to prevail.
