week eight & nine: on disappointment

Everything stopped.

I was so close, doing so well, and then I just.

Can I talk about the frustration? I made the commitment to being kind to myself in these reflections, but right now I’m feeling everything but. I’m so.

Suddenly writing these isn’t providing the release I wish they could. I censored just about nothing in these reflections, but when talking about the anger I feel towards myself when I don’t meet my standards the description is so —— I literally can’t write it here knowing anybody is going to see it. I can’t even describe the description, god.

You know what I said a few weeks ago? No, I’ll find it.

Week Three: on flexibility. “The name of the game is quality over quantity; I’d rather have half of what I planned to do done, presented with polish, than all of what I planned to do, but it all looks ugly. When people see my project, I want them to have a clear picture of what it’ll look like when it’s finished.”

And what do I have? A quarter of the deck, unpolished and incomplete. Dead ugly, if you ask me.

I’m just so.

When I talk about my project to someone, you know how they see it? Phoebe called it amazing today. Michelle said it was “outstanding work” in an email to a colleague. Jack said it sounded super cool, though I never worked up the nerve to tell them much about it.

And what do I see?

After 10 weeks, what did I actually produce?

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Okay, I got that out of my system. The anger, the frustration, it’s all still there, even if I try to downplay it. But there’s nothing more to say about it, so let’s detour.

Week 8 was pretty good, honestly. I was so happy to sketch all my ideas out finally. I could see what has been floating in my thoughts and words for weeks finally begin to manifest visually, and it was honestly surreal. All these ambitions felt surreal, but now attainable.

Week 9 was where I hit the roadblock. I finished all the preparation — sketches, research, notes, everything that gave the art meaning but wouldn’t be seen directly in the deck. But when I finally sat down to render the first card, I choked.

I got through most of the lineart, but the face wasn’t expressing what I wanted it express and the hands hadn’t been touched and when I flipped the canvas everything looked wrong and I choked.

The day before, I drew a dozen assets for my other research project, a video game with a similarly altruistic goal. But for some reason, the moment I stepped up to the plate of this project, my art skills fell short.

I haven’t touched it since. I can’t even bring myself to look at it right now, honestly.

I hate feeling incompetent.

I was lying earlier — there is so much I could say about my anger. Nobody has higher standards for me than I do. But it’s only because of those standards that I had the audacity to fight for every opportunity I am reaping the benefits of today. Knowing that I am capable of so much means that I reach for the stars, but even when I land on the moon and to anyone else that’s great, to me, it’s still not the stars.

I hate disappointing myself.

It’s quiet. Rotting behind a smile, as I present my project as “outstanding”, “amazing”, and “cool”, because that’s how everyone else sees it. When I pretend it isn’t dead ugly because it could have been uglier.

Where do I go from here? I know I have to keep going, but how do I move forward? I know I’m supposed to love myself, but how do I love someone who hurts me as often as they provide for me?

Week Ten’s reflection will include the rest of this reflection.

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SM