Have you ever had one of those days when you finally admit defeat and accept that just showing up is good enough? This past weekend I participated in my first event in over a year as an artist and it didn’t exactly go as I had hoped.

Let’s back up just a smidge. I’ve taken a couple steps back from producing and promoting my work. If you have been following me you know this is the first blog I’ve done in a while, and my social media has been pretty quiet until the last month or so. Coming off of the past 3 years – like many people – I needed some time to refocus.

In that time, I’ve been improving my digital art and design skills, resting, focusing on my day job, and just getting to a good place. Around the beginning of this year, I felt the desire to start creating more intentionally again and pick up some old plans to move things forward, this blog being one of them. So when the opportunity to participate as an artist in Mount Holly’s local Art Walk presented itself I jumped at the chance. I was excited! It was a couple weeks after spring break; if nothing else I’d have a whole week to create and get organized leading up to it. What perfect timing! And then life, as it usually does, happened.

Spring break came and went, and I spent much of that time in bed with a stomach bug. What energy I did have, went to helping to build a fence for our eight-month-old puppy.

I was so frustrated.

Then I hopped right back into work from a week off feeling more behind and less rested than I had when I left. On the bright side, I was more productive than I had been in ages. Every night the week leading up to the event I spent time creating art, but it took a toll. Don’t get me wrong, it was great that I was spending so much time in that space. I was hopeful and looked at the approaching deadline as a way of holding myself accountable. Urgency has always been my best motivator. But I was out of practice, and sometimes the creative process can’t be rushed. It wasn’t until about day four that I found a groove and even then I wasn’t terribly excited with how anything was turning out.

Fast forward to Friday night, I accept that what I have will be good enough and then move on to getting organized. Price new things, make any signage I needed, get packed up, etc. Then the printer had an issue (this printer has been the bane of my existence since I got it). After more than an hour of trying to problem-solve with no success. So I was done. I was tired, frustrated, and utterly defeated. I had to be at another commitment in the morning for a couple of hours and just couldn’t do anymore. Good enough was really all that was going to happen. Handwritten signs and prices at the last minute would have to do.

Morning came, commitment number one handled, and after a few tears of exhaustion, overwhelm, and general frustration, I was off to the event that, up until a few days before, I was really excited about. By the time I got there, I had recovered. I showed up with a pretty good attitude and was genuinely excited.

The event was fine (literally the best word I have for it). I enjoyed a day of sitting in a fun local shop and talking to new people, but at the end of the day I hadn’t sold much of anything, and I’m guessing maybe my social media following had increased by one person. A success, by the numbers? Not really. A success in perseverance and showing up? Yep, we’ll go with that one. As I got home, exhausted and greeted by an overly excited puppy who had been cooped up for 3 straight days of heavy rain, I started to, finally, reflect and decompress.

My initial thoughts, the gut reflex ones, were of frustration, irritation, and, quite frankly, failure. The momentary high of the sunshine in the shop window and new faces wore off pretty quickly. It’s easy to think I’d wasted so much time over the previous two weeks preparing for something that quantifiably didn’t feel like it was worth it. And on top of everything I was exhausted. There were so many things that I sat aside that I needed and wanted to do because I was focused on this one event. It felt like a waste and I felt defeated. Another event where I left with nothing to show for it. Another attempt that I felt like I failed. There’s a part of me that doesn’t care, that will keep creating and learning and pushing and growing. But there’s also a part of me that wonders why I’m continuing to chase this dream. Will it ever change? What’s the magic formula? Am I just not cut out for this? Some of these thoughts could be tinged by the three-plus days of rain or the phase of this twenty-eight-day cycle we women live in, but if I’m honest, I think these thoughts a lot.

It’s possible I was trying to do too much (have you met me?) Or maybe this is just what life is as a part-time artist trying to make things happen. I’ll take note of these ups and downs, but what’s more important is celebrating the hard-fought wins. Like making the time to be creative, and sparking something I haven’t felt in a long time. It was a win that I was there at all, to show up. The people I spoke to this weekend didn’t care about my lack of tablecloth or the color of my sign. They saw my work, they saw me, where I am right now. And it was good enough, maybe even better than good enough. That pesky perfectionist in me and the social-media-tinged world we live in keep telling me otherwise, but I won’t listen. I won’t give up. I’ll learn from this, I may get better, or maybe I’ll just get better at giving myself a little grace and accepting the “good enough”s in life.