Making art is making me happy. Other things making me happy: cooking and eating popcorn with my little 'un; discovering sustainable creativity; parcels of books arriving in the mail; journalling; generous and thoughtful gifts for my little 'un's second birthday; fresh flowers; being acknowledged for my contribution in my day job; lighting my extravagant L'Occitane candle every day; kind and caring emails from friends; my husband's work day going better than expected.
Other things making me less happy: feeling hemmed in by other people's agendas; getting dumped on in my day job; eating too much 'bad' food; comparing myself negatively to other artists and bloggers; getting bored/annoyed with myself for feeling so yuk so often; struggling to juggle everything that needs to happen in a day for my little 'un, especially when she is not always cooperative.
So it's a bit of a rollercoaster ride these days. And unfortunately, I am beginning to realise that -- despite what pop psychology would have me believe -- smaller moments of everyday delight are not enough to compensate for, or override, the bigger struggles. BUT I am glad they are there and am working hard to feel proud for noticing them.
And thank you, sweet friends, for championing my little grannie blankie's splendid imperfection. You are right. I will dig it back out and I will finish it. I may even decide to unravel the bits that were deemed technically imperfect, and redo them (my psychologist has invited me to not see this as a "giving in" or admission of failure).
Either way, I am kind of glad the whole incident happened, because it gave me tremendous insight into where certain behavioural patterns have comes from, and a valuable lesson in what happens when particular people inject strong opinions into my psyche.