I spent the past few days going over my old pictures. SOme I used to get into an exposition or festival. They are all gone now except for maybe two or three. I sold many of them but the ex-wife really liked them and she could never afford to buy art. I can always paint more. So I gave the rest to her, frame and all. I don't miss them. I know they all have a good home.
It is a great satisfaction not just to paint something you like, but to have someone else like it enough to pay for it. I will admit to keeping my prices very affordable. But the thought of all that work is rewarding me over and over. And it did start out with just satisfying my own interest.
Kinda back to basics, for me now. I think I tend to forget good things when absorbed in so much recollection (and that's the wrong word) of trauma.