Your artist is showing

My former self. MUCH more somber than my current self, despite having preceded so much of my misery. And being way thinner. What was I thinking!?

Do you ever remember a phase you went through at a younger age, or a lifestyle you’d almost forgotten lusting after? It can sometimes be refreshing to look backwards at your own evolution, and sometimes it’s melancholy, and sometimes it’s painful -but it nearly always reminds you of how far you’ve come.

Together with a few old friends and a few new ones, I’ve been walking down memory lane for the past 24 hours or so. My mind has been awash with memories of my father, my formative high school years and my social blunders after high school but before parenthood. Life has been such a mixed bag that it’s getting harder to tell the sweet parts from the sour anymore.

Lately I’ve been less depressed -which is good. There are always moments of sadness, when I realize that I’ll always be broken and a little dark at heart, but they are tempered with the love I’m now capable of feeling and expressing for those who trigger it within me. Despite all the messed up interactions and relationships we all go through, humankind endures.

I haven’t had much work or journalistic inspiration lately, as the urge to be creative -inspiration or muse or whatever you choose to call it- has overshadowed my usual caution. There have also been setbacks and what feel, in the moment anyway, like tragedies. Through it all I’ve got a new motivation, but it’s been difficult to come to terms with what it is.

Why is it so frightening to admit that I’m a creative thinker? See, I want to say “creative type” or artist even, but there’s some kind of wall within that stops me. I could, like so many who’ve done so before me, blame it on my parents or the public school system or the way society shuns introspection and creativity… but I think a much better response would be to cast all of that away. Reject the need to blame some external cause and continue on feeling guilty about my skill set -but there’s some kind of wall within me that pops up and stops me. It’s as if I’m going to be made vulnerable by admitting it, or I don’t deserve to call myself that because I’m not creative or artistic enough. It’s ridiculous.

Instead, I think I’ll just go with the urge for a while.

I’m just going to respond to the feeling, the inspiration, the muse. I’m going to create. We’ll see how that goes.


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