This is painted on a 9 x 12 wood cradleboard. It is making me ridiculously happy.

LOOK AT IT. MY GODS. THE GORGEOUSNESS!

And this post is in direct opposition to a thing I saw on Facebook a while back where someone was snidely remarking that it makes her super uncomfortable when other people love their own art, as if loving your own art is something you should never admit to.

Like, dude. What?

Image reads “Self-esteem is the ability to see yourself as a flawed individual and still hold yourself in high regard.”

Loving my art and saying so is a huge marker of my recovery from narcissistic abuse syndrome. I can love my art. I can say I love my art. I am not afraid to be overheard saying I love my art. I am not waiting for someone to “neg” me – a term which means purposefully putting a person down in order to prop yourself up – a trick narcissists are adept at using. I am not compelled to use false modesty or the humblebrag to soften the blow of my brightness in the face of a super jealous narcissist who can’t stand to feel like I might have something going on for me that has nothing to do with them. I am safe from *waves at all of that*.

I love my art.

I want you to love your art or whatever else there is to love about yourself (so much, omg!).

This is my mission.

I just wanted to tell you.

Before You Go

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