It’s been a while since I last felt creative.
Yes, you read that right. Due to the stress of the past four years, it has been challenging to even consider getting back to creating things because the harsh reality is, ‘Why bother? I’ll have to lock down again.’ This is damaging when trying to promote a book or a piece of artwork, it’s a death sentence before the ink dries on the page.
However, what can you do when someone is determined to spread lies to destroy your livelihood and your life?
I’ve tried living like a turtle – keeping inside the thick shell I’ve developed to deal with the unending bullshit, and sadly, the reality is – no matter what I do, it’s a constant assault. I’ve ignored it and tried getting back to normal. But it hasn’t stopped. I’ve been unable to read, to write, to create anything. I’ve been so focused on simply surviving, that any energy – mental or physical – was directed to the next twenty-four hours of my life.
Let me say friends, being in that state is tiring. It’s not a tired that sleep can erase. It’s a tired of the soul, of the heart of being you.
Now that may sound like I’ve been in a mental health crisis for four years straight. Reality is – no. I’ve got a strong support network; even when I shouldn’t have to be, I’ve gotten the strength to carry on.
In the last few days though, I’ve felt creativity slowly start to trickle back. I didn’t recognize it at first, but now I know what it is. Last night I pulled out my colouring books for the first time in months. The second book that I had to halt work on – it’s back on my desk. I charged the batteries for my camera for the first time in a long time and started taking pictures again.
I’ve laid bare the whole situation and working on finalizing the edits for a video. The podcast is being scripted and worked on again.
I’ve missed this feeling, and I’m going to make sure that it stays.