I Gave Up on My Art for a Day Job

I dropped my sketchbook in the trash this morning. It was full of sketches I've been working on for months, trying to capture all these ideas swirling inside me about nature and human connection. But instead of picking it up and going back to my studio, I threw myself into work at the office where I'm an accountant now. The numbers are just easier to handle somehow, they don't judge or critique like self-doubt does when I try to make art again. I wonder if this is a sign that I've given up on ever becoming the artist I wanted to be, or maybe it's a coping mechanism for dealing with all the rejection from galleries and online forums where no one seems interested in my work. My mind keeps flashing back to all those hours spent sketching, the joy of seeing something come alive on paper, but now there's just this emptiness that won't go away. What does it mean when you stop believing in your own dreams?