Learning to turn my Setbacks into Instruments of Growth

A few years ago I was rifling through an old shoebox filled with childhood memories. I came across a piece of lined paper neatly folded into thirds. Inside was a short paragraph written in recently learned, cursive handwriting. It was part of a school assignment where I was asked what I wanted to be when I grew up. It read, “My name is Ellen Marie Brenneman and I am planning on becoming a freelance artist. I hope to look back on my career and see accomplishment. I hope to make some people happy when they look at my art.”

I’m grateful to say that I fulfilled my dream of becoming a working artist, but the road wasn’t without its twists and turns along the way.

Because I was interested in many forms of art, I had a hard time deciding where to focus my energy when I entered college. Ultimately, I chose graphic design after being guided by counselors, teachers, and parents to choose a career that would offer me more stability.

Mere weeks before entering my final year of studies in graphic design I received a letter from my school stating there weren't enough spots to accommodate all of the applicants that semester; I was abruptly cut from the program and asked to reapply the following semester. I was devastated by the news. I also felt betrayed; I’d worked so hard... how could this happen?

I spent my last year of college in search of a new plan, and after graduation, decided to spend a year gaining work experience in the field before going back to obtain my Master’s degree in art therapy. I was hired as a direct support professional to children and adults with various physical and emotional disabilities. In order to stay connected to art, I also took on side-jobs as an illustrator, muralist, and furniture painter. 

With a plan in hand, I learned as much as I could about being an art therapist, however, I did not expect to become so devoted to the families I worked for. When my year was up, I decided to push it out another year; then another. Ultimately, my job in direct support turned into a career for nearly two decades. Although it was satisfying work, the only thing left of my dream of becoming an artist was tucked away in an old shoebox. 

Then, in the Spring of 2012, my world suddenly tipped off its axis. My employer and dear friend suddenly died, which caused me to lose my job. Less than three weeks later I required major surgery. I was told by my doctors that recovery would take between one and two months, but due to some complications, it took much longer. 

Mourning the loss of my friend, unemployed and unable to resume an active lifestyle caused me to fall into a depression. Then one day, my husband came up from the basement carrying a box of my art supplies and set them down in front of me. “I think you need these,” he said. I picked up a brush, balanced a small canvas on my old college easel, and started painting. Almost immediately, a wave of gratitude fell over me; it was like I’d reconnected with a part of my soul. 

The biggest challenge I faced during that time was not allowing my fear of failure to come between me and what I wanted to achieve. Looming thoughts of “What if…” are like a disease; once infected, dreams can be crushed before they’re ever given the chance to flourish. Here I was, an introvert with rusty painting skills, zero art presence on social media, and no experience in how to run a business. Since I couldn’t work, I also had no other means of income. While many would have considered it the worst possible time to start a business, I saw my current situation as a gift of opportunity. I literally had nothing to lose.

With six months of savings in the bank, I worked out a strict budget to make those funds stretch as far as possible. While I continued to recuperate I created enough art to stock my Etsy shop with 20 listings; I officially opened in July 2012. Those first few months were tough. Sales barely trickled in and when they did, all were from people I knew. I was also grappling with the fact that I no longer had a stable paycheck coming in every week; every time I needed to dip into my limited savings account I had to stop and take a deep breath first. It wasn’t until the end of October that I had my first sale from someone I didn’t know; that was a big day for me. 

In 2014 I developed a major interest in spirit animals. My fascination carried over into my art and I began creating animal portraits in bright, non-traditional colors. In addition, I also wrote animal symbolism to accompany each piece. I titled my ongoing series, Power Animals of the Planet. 

Customers started connecting with my paintings on a more meaningful level, wanting original paintings and prints to remind them of their own special animal encounters. Major art accounts on social media began sharing my work, and a few paintings were featured in two book publications. With consistent sales both online and in several boutiques across the Midwest, I was earning a sustainable living and feeling valued as an artist. 

In early 2018 I was presented with an opportunity to sell my work through a major retailer. I’d been feeling as though it was time for my Power Animal series to come to a close; selling wholesale seemed like the next logical next step in my career. I was invited to submit an application to the retailer’s annual vendor fair. By attending the event I had the potential to receive orders from up to 300 individual store owners who’d be in attendance. In addition, I’d also need to carry stock on hand and fill orders as they came in. I discussed this career move with my husband and with his full support, I eagerly submitted my application along with my $1200.00 application fee. 

A few weeks later I received an email stating that the selection committee had accepted me into the event. I spent the next four months preparing my line of merchandise and studying the ins and outs of selling wholesale, all the while keeping up with my current painting schedule and maintaining my online business with Etsy.

In late June of that year, my husband took a week’s vacation and I put my Etsy shop on vacation mode. Together, we began our 15-hour drive to the conference center in Rhode Island.  I felt prepared with everything needed for success: line sheets, samples, racks to hold my goods, and most importantly, totes of carefully packed merchandise featuring my art. 

To say that the event was a complete disaster would be an understatement. For three days my fellow vendors chatted with store owners, offered samples, and took orders while I struggled to hand out a single business card. At one point my husband said what we were both thinking, 

‘It’s like we are invisible here.” Still, I maintained hope that someone would take an interest in my products, but in the end, I left without a single order and no prospects. 

Rejection of any kind is a hard pill to swallow, but to me, it took on another meaning; a negative experience of that magnitude was a clear sign that the path I was trying to create for myself was not right for me. I gave myself the drive home to feel the depth of my emotions. When I returned to my studio I took a deep breath, grounded myself in gratitude, and pressed onward. 

A couple of months passed and I awoke one morning to find an email from a customer asking if I had plans to release an oracle deck featuring my work. It had always been a dream of mine to do so, but I never had enough faith in myself to accomplish a project of that magnitude. I tried to put it out of my mind, but soon, it was all I could think about. Late one night I climbed out of bed, carried a notepad and pencil into the living room, and began sketching my ideas to paper. Nine months later I published Power Animals of the Planet oracle deck and companion guide. The response I’ve received has exceeded my every expectation. Since it’s release, my deck has been a best seller on Etsy, and it is currently in its second printing. 

Summing it up

Chasing a dream requires a good deal of faith, a greater amount of bravery, and a willingness to take risks. Things aren’t always going to go the way we want or expect them to. Mistakes can be painful, but if we choose to look at them as necessary instruments for growth instead of failures, the lessons they leave behind will always lead us toward our true purpose in life. 

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