Self-doubt is a mean bitch. It starts creeping in at the edges of my being, slowly at first, almost dismissable. But like a weed, it starts developing strong roots and before you know it half your mind is infested. Its grip can be crippling, nauseating and destructive all at once. The worst part? When you've put so much energy, time and effort in building your self-acceptance, self-love, and self-worth. And then somebody from the outside starts feeding you all the lines you've been telling yourself silently, confirming your worst fears and effectively shattering the shiny armor you've worked so hard to maintain. You are devastated, defeated. Maybe you even cry, questioning all your life's decisions that have brought you to this point. You don't know what's right or wrong anymore. Maybe you never did. And maybe. just maybe. It was never a question of right or wrong. Maybe it was always just a matter of growth. And that one person that fed you the lies you so wanted to believe was the catalyst for something more, something better. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise. Or maybe self-love is not a matter of trusting yourself and knowing what's right all the time, being strong constantly, but having the energy to pick yourself up when you fell down again. Maybe we're never done falling and the whole point is to trust that getting back up is worth it every time. Even though you don't know what's right and what's wrong.

A3 (30x40cm/12x16"), acrylic on paper, signed at the bottom right corner. 

*Frames are not included in the purchase