A Creative's Plight
My Fight with Being Creative, Anxiety and Showing Up in Reality - Journal Entry #1
I used to be up until 4 am drawing. I used to spend days working on sewing a garment. I used to daydream my own personal headcanon AU story of the akatsuki and danced around my room like I was on a stage in front of thousands of people. Now I go to work & bed rot. I cry endlessly about the past. I mindly scroll & watch others do the same thing I used to do. Create and live. I have become a shell of the person I thought I was. If my younger self saw me, she wouldn’t recognize the woman in front of her is her shadow.
Where did my mind of wonder and whimsy go? Do I even love this anymore? did I ever love this to begin with?
Art was my gateway, I started writing mini stories. Just paragraphs of childhood experience. I wrote poetry at school; That adults thought was too deep for 9/10 year old to produce around the subject of my mother who left me. I started drawing because of my neighbor. I laugh about this now but she was so cocky then I just wanted to up show her. She was my gateway into anime. I watched naruto for the first time at her house. I remember it was on toonami and it was the movie where there was a film in the village. I was introduced to jak and daxter and my all time favorite game in the world to this day; Kingdom hearts. Her brother would play and we were only allowed to watch. Tho at home I would be conducting mini experiments, trying to build with popsicle sticks, making clothes for my stuffied babies.
The start of the decline was when I was transitioning from the hell that was high school into college. My grandmother was slowly deteriorating mentally and my father had just made a comment to me about my art, “I’m so glad that you got good at this” in a happy but disapproving way? Like if I didn’t improve he’d say I was wasting my time? I continued to go to college for art, no one was gonna stop me. I thought I wanted to be an animator for disney. When I never animated anything in my life.
At home My father invited a beast in sheep’s clothing into our house. They would say one thing to his face and when I overheard them when they thought they were alone, their true feeling were spit out. Manipulative and narcissistic in tone, like we owe them anything. And the man I thought was my protector continued to protect a shapeshifting beast. I felt like I was being ganged up upon, in the castle i’ve been born within. One Day this beast strikes me but they end up the victim in this situation. Mentally I don’t think i’ve been the same. betrayed, alone and traumatized; But I didn’t know that yet. I did feel the fester of Anger I’ve never felt. It was as tiny as a pin then, but I couldn’t feel the drops of blood that leaked out.
Life set in when I got out of college and spent a year not working because I didn’t know what to do and I had to help take care of my nana. I was not set up to even know how to go through the process of getting a job. I managed to figure it out all myself. But by then my nana was put into a home for older people because my father couldn’t take care of her anymore. i.e. the beast complained about her because they couldn’t take it.
Covid Hit. I couldn’t see my nana often, I was an essential worker making a little bit of change for my first job but home wasn’t safe. once a space I could create in feely was taken from me, with strangers sleeping on my couch for years at a time. men that make you uncomfortable coz they are half naked and facing your door. The beast using them as threats and my father defending all the lies and nonsense whispered in his ear at night. I went through an abortion alone. Everything felt as though it was crashing, I wasn’t safe in my own home and I felt alone. Isolating myself into insanity. That is not a time I like to look at coz I wouldn’t wish that to the people I love and care about. The filth around me piled as I shut myself into a box of my own despair.
In this time, I couldn’t create. When I did, it was just to pass the time. not because I felt like I had something to say. I removed myself from that and went on a 2 year adventure of existing and trying to figure out the person I am. Art came and went. In some cases I really wanted to draw or do something grand but I had no space or materials. I let that stop me from trying. Focused on the reality of surviving. Not working, spending all my money running away constantly.
After running away for so long, I had to come back home where the beast still resided. It took a while for my father to see my plight and he understood it, but Still give this beast and their offspring solace in my castle. Giving them grace, I felt they did not deserve. Not Under the roof that was only meant for my family.
Still I reside, Dealing with fear and underlying panic whilst hate in my heart grows. Trying to become a person who can exist on my own, not just physically. My Mind has been consumed with these interactions, unhealthy and unproductive. I hate it. This space is not sacred to express myself fully. when I did, I was shut down. So when I’m here I am mentally blocked. The winter months are especially hard with nowhere to go when you are unemployed. every creek makes your heart jump. voices that stop you in your tracks and fear glues you the floor and creates a pit of quicksand.
A hand appeared to me to help me and it was my boyfriend. Though he pulled me out and set me on a path of success, my mind was still sinking. Taking it out on him and not even knowing, the person I had become was nothing I ever seen before. Having to step back he helped me as long as I asked but I had to do the work too.
Now I am going to get my Bachelors at an art school and I am waiting to get my dorming information. while I am still in a environment that is not conducive with my well being I have something to look forward to. I have been sporadically creating & mending. not just physically but in my soul and I have someone to ground me. I am beginning to know myself and my morals. Standing firmly in them and doing so within creating.
I am still struggling but I am finding more peace and living within it. I think when I started reading books my mind expanded. Intellectual conversations with my boyfriend, affirming me and my intelligence make me feel like I am on top of the world. Taking accountability for my actions and the role I play in others lives. Truly becoming and not just saying that.
I think finding Substack was the best thing. I’ve been wanting to write a blog for a very long time. But who wants to actually code and design their own website. I did try watching tutorials but I just didn’t get it. So, Sub stack here I am! Sharing my thoughts is hard. When I was little the adults never valued what I had to say and just wanted me to be silent. So I unconsciously carried that. My writing feels like I am reclaiming my voice. I am scared all the time though, I don’t wanna offend or make people feel away. And I’ve been on the internet long enough to see people get doxed and destroyed for saying their opinion, often loud and wrong. or when you change opinions, you are told to be the same. Which is why for most of my time on the internet, I observe. But I want to Speak more.
This was my first love. The inner child in me is crying so hard.
As an intermission. I started writing this journal entry a few days ago. Yesterday I felt as tho I Relapsed into a head space wasn't in for a very long time. I had a really bad panic attack but leading up to that the days felt like they were dragging while my anxiety hit a new high. I panicked so hard, None of my techniques didn't work. Taking deep loud breaths, naming 5 things in my vicinity, the only thing I didn't do was let it consume me.
But My issues with all of this. This situation, the monster is still here. People tell me everyday; It'll be over soon. It's been years of being told that. How much more time will I have to wait? I am being silenced by legal issues which for me feels very anti-black. The panic has set in even more because of that. My feelings are valid and I know I have to continue to live life and not let this effect what I have going on. I'm going back to school and trying to live a fulfilling life with my boyfriend and unlearn somethings that have been hindering me. But this is the biggest thing that is troubling in my life. I worked so hard to run away but now I'm back again and I can't run away. I always think about going into a shelter. But I feel like I am taking a space for someone who actually needs it.
I feel like my safety not just physically but mentally has been compromised. This feels like torture. Like a cage within a labyrinth where the monster can be lurking behind every corner. You hear it's breath, deep and guttural. You feel it in your chest by the way your heart begins to pump faster. Your body begins to tremble starting from you finger tips while your legs feel as heavy and cinder-blocks, arms frozen in place.
I'm sick of this feeling. Thinking about would could happen after, how I would feel, hasn't been enough. I know what the feeling is like. I've had dreams affirming me. But Right now that is not my reality unfortunately. But the feeling of being free feels so lost to me but I know when I get it I will blossom.
Slowly but surely, I am getting back to self. To be the creative my mind knows I am. I have the ideas but we need to execute. Regardless of the lack of space. gaining knowledge that inspires me to create.
This is where I am at, Waiting. Trying to take up space. Exist Freely. Create unapologetically!
Sister, you are a survivor and a creator, and those two identities don’t cancel each other, they fortify each other. Don’t let the beast convince you that you're too broken to be brilliant.
You are documenting the in-between. The part most people skip. But that’s where the truth is. You’re not weak, you’re just deep. And deep waters still run, even if they look still from the surface.
Keep writing. Keep becoming. You’re not waiting anymore. You’re already in motion.
Thank you for sharing yourself. As a creative who chose the easier road, I went to college for nursing, I am so ready to share my words with the world. Anxiety hits us all at one time or another. I admit that the fear of failure has kept me anxious when I write but after reading your journal entry, I feel as though I have permission to go ahead and jump in. May success find all of us that have something to say and share with the world!