Each day is better than the last. Or at least it was until I had the rug swept out from under me. I had a professor ask me if the work I had been doing at home was actually mine or my mother's work. Complete lack in confidence and worthlessness has struck me. What the hell do you mean is it my mom's work?! I fucking did the work! AND I worked really fucking hard on it too! I even sent pictures to show you that I was working! But of course those could have been staged! Bullshit! I'm not mentally capable at this time to be deceiving.
Some people are beyond ignorant to what mental illness does to a person. I may not have physical scars but my mental scars go a mile deep and a mile wide. I took myself to the darkest pits of hell and I am slowly pulling myself out everyday. That question has put me back to where I started and I don't want to have to crawl back out again, but I will because I do not need to live my life in a black hole. I need the light to survive.
I have no clue if I'm being accused of academic dishonestly, or what but I'm still shaken up. The work I presented was by far the best work I have done in my life and I am so proud of it. But to have my credibility questioned put an ugly light over all that I've accomplished.
The Art Department is a bitter bitch.
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