08/20/2026
https://www.facebook.com/share/p/1DRCdbpz2j/
Hard Times
Over the last year I’ve watched over 2000 people post their PPW’s on here and this is the recurring theme and it’s not your fault.
The internet is the other version of magazines we used to get.
We see people who post their amazing bodies, their 6 figure incomes, their perfect cottage and rose garden, their $50,000 kitchen…
… and it all arrived in a rub of the lamp, a flick of the fingers, and 1 of the 3 wishes.
So immaculate was their transformation, the impossibility of it was masked by the richness and want of our own lack of what they had.
But behind the glamour, the story, the Vogueness of their climb a more entrenched trail could be found.
These seemingly impossible climbs and miraculous transformations were far from the perfection they claimed, the ease with which they shot to the top.
They were burdened in despair, self loathing, pain, brief moments of joy then desperation.
Each one of these neither arrived on the wings of a Pegasus or Rolls Royce and accompanying fanfare.
And so quart did happen?
Tears, failure, self doubt, miscarriage of internal justice, self loathing, despair, anger, frustration, quitting time after time after time.
These are the stories you don’t hear. These are the stories that don’t get to print. But these are the stories that matter.
They matter because these are what made what they did, these are the stories of heroes and heroines.
These are what separate the worthy from the failed.
They’re worthy not because they’re better but because they fought, and they didn’t fight their skill, they didn’t fight their competition. They didn’t fight the world.
They fought self doubt and slowly inch by inch they showed self doubt that they could do it, that they could learn, change, adapt, fight, win, lose, suffer but…
… always be there when the sun came up.
Tired, exhausted, ready to face another day.
Why?
Because something inside them would not let go.
It has no name, it has no shape, no image, no sound… it is just there.
And that one thing kept them going hour after hour, day after day.
And that one thing said…
Just the tiniest thing - you can do it.
Because every success, every win, was a small step closer than before.
And so they stopped comparing themselves to other people only to what they’re were before.
Their competitor was not others, but themselves.
They strove to be better one bit at a time.
And each bit got bigger and bigger till’ the accumulation became more than what they were.
Their effort, the thing they created, was no longer them.
It was their being as something else.
It was their life force outside of themselves.
It was their accumulation of everything they had been, the pain, the joy, the tears, the frustration, the love, the happiness, the self loathing and disbelief.
They had re-created themselves in that.
That is Art - that is becoming.
That is - letting go.
That is knowing that greatness is not made it is achieved.
It is fought and won over many many battles.
So take heart. Your drawing is not meant to be compared to everyone elses, they have their own battles.
Your drawing is not meant to be ok, good nor perfect for the first time.
Your drawing is your climb.
As is theirs.
So draw with a path with heart for yourself.
Let that be your flag for where you are now. Because it is not a one stop journey.
R❤️B
