I have always been effective at handling bad situations well. I have proven to be steady, reliable and capable in emergency situations (from accidents and health related scenes to employment, social, or personal interactions), and in circumstances where conflict needs to be resolved in a timely manner. I am quick to analyze the facts of the situation, make a clear-headed decision, and implement an immediate path to resolution attending to the emotions playing out.
What I find I’m susceptible to is lingering doubt or the questioning of my ability in the aftermath. Instead of letting emotions overcome my performance in the actual moment of need, I put emotions to the side and unearth them when I have the luxury to catastrophize the doubt and completely undermine my resiliency. It is the after-judgment that undermines my self-esteem.
Who does that benefit?
This week, in the process of doing retrofit work on the building’s foundation, the construction crew mistakenly hauled away 81 paintings I was storing in the space behind my studio. Luckily, I happened by later that day, discovered what had happened, called the landlord who got in touch with the haulers and managed to save my paintings from going to the dump. They were returned the next day.
Sad to say 21 of the 81 were damaged — mostly tears or punctures in the canvas. I’m not sure what the resolution will be between me and the landlord. Determining the value of old works that were stored away will take some thought. As the landlord says, “we can only move forward.”
Life is a learning experience.
The moment I discovered the paintings were gone I was shocked, then mad, then sad, and then determined. There was no time to wallow until I knew all the facts. Within five minutes I had the best resolution the circumstances could provide.
When I returned home, the wallowing began. Eighty-one paintings could have been lost for ever and all I could focus on was — so what?
They are just things.
No one will notice they are gone.
They were never going to sell.
I don’t think they are my best work — even if I did then.
I’m not as upset as I should be about losing my life’s work.
And, of course — I’m terrible at what I do.
And — What’s the point in continuing to paint?
All of this doubt is always under the surface filling up the space between the act of making a piece of work and waiting for the response to it. What does it take to be successful? How selfish an act is making art? And what meaning does it have?
It was a tough week of loss and relief. I’m happy that the paintings are back and that the decisions about how to move forward are mine and not the final result of some random act beyond my control. But it does feel like there was a lesson in letting go mixed into all of this.
I can only move forward but maybe with some new wisdom (and a healthy distrust of my landlord’s promises) I can carry more of my reliable self into the space between and let go of the doubt.
We’ll see.