Better Days
by Jacqueline Fletcher
Art as Survival | Almost in Bloom
Still pretending. Still hoping.
This piece was painted in a quieter season; not free of struggle, but gentler. I spent hours on the background alone, letting my pain bleed through in layers of ink and gold leaf. Letting go, visually, of the things I still can’t say out loud.
The gold peeks through, but the ink drips over it like tarnished hope- or dreams that once shone brighter. It’s a somber backdrop, but on top of it, the flowers have started to take shape. They're more focused now. More grounded. I’m still using dopamine pinks to chase joy I haven’t quite reached, but it feels closer. Almost in bloom.
This painting is a quiet contradiction: heavy and bright, tired and trying. The fight isn’t over. Maybe it never will be. But something is growing anyway.
Learn More: The Fight Behind the Brushstrokes
Better Days looks softer. Because occasionally, there is peace.
This piece came during a rare pause in the chaos. After years of fighting, of screaming into silence, of being dismissed, ignored, and blamed... there was finally a flicker of calm. For a moment, I could exhale- just a little. I poured that breath into this painting.
But softness doesn’t mean the struggle is over. The background carries every scar: ink-stained memories, trauma that lingers, hope that’s been bruised. I let it all drip down over gold- a quiet nod to the dreams I once had, now tarnished by reality. The flowers on top are growing, focused, full of movement. And so am I. But the fight never really stops.
Because even in the stillness, the system is still broken. Thousands of families remain stuck in the same nightmare I only just escaped. Carers are still burning out, still being ignored. We’re expected to keep smiling, keep functioning, keep coping... even when everything around us is falling apart.
Better Days is not a happy ending. It’s a fragile hope, painted by someone who’s been through hell and still hasn’t put the brush down.
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