I never really considered the worth of what I do. The songs I’ve written, the photographs I took, the stories I write, all of these artistic outputs that I’ve done seem like just…nothing. I don’t see the value in what I do. And what does that say about me?
Simple. I don’t see my value. I don’t see my worth. It’s one of the many crosses I bear day in and day out. I always, always, undervalue myself and the things I’ve done. I shouldn’t, I know. It’s not helping me in my path of recovery.
It seems like forever ago when a man came up to me after a set I did at Luna and said that he loved a song I penned and sung and that he could relate to it. As a consistent underachiever, that was one of the greatest things anyone has ever said to me. That was one of the greatest things to have ever happened to me. I was ecstatic after that, of course. Felt like what I was doing was worth shit. Right now, however, that memory can’t seem to make me feel good.
Some weeks back, Jensen Gomez of Jensen & The Flips messaged me on Facebook and asked me if I could send him a couple of photos to be used on their album layout. I was over the moon when I read it. Sent him a couple of shots of his band that I took when they performed at Satchmi’s Vinyl Day. I wasn’t even sure that those photos would make the cut, truth be told. I hoped, but I was still cautiously optimistic. Two photos made it. I was proud of myself when I saw my photos on the album inlay. The high dissipated the week after.
People tell me that my songs are good. People tell me that my photos are excellent.
Why can’t I see that now?
It’s #SelfDoubtSaturday. Pity party’s at my place. Bring your own misery.