Tonight I stood at the sink racking my brain trying to come up with something to write, that had substance, was deep and meaningful. Nothing.
It reminds me of a time when I had come back to university after summer break. My instructor gave us our first assignment. Creating something with substance, something that you could defend, something you could build on. I was dumbfounded, terrified, and blocked.
Eventually something did come, but the whole time I was afraid, afraid it wasn't what everyone wanted to see. It never got easier, each time after that I feared what I was making would somehow stump me, that I wouldn't be able to hold onto it and really make it mine.
Art in any form is hard. You give away tiny pieces of yourself each time you make something. I think writers have the worst time. You give something up, it peels parts of you away, opens you up for others to examine.
Each time I sit down to put something into words it's paralyzing. Somehow, I have a driving need to say something, but can't seem to find the words to say it. It's never good, or interesting enough. I read what others write, look at what they make and I never seem to feel like I can measure up.
It's not that I am not confident, honestly few would know I struggle with this, it's just that internal voice, that burning question. Is this okay, am I okay? I think I am okay. I walk around not looking like I am anything but composed, I think.
I lay in bed at night and wonder, does anyone else feel like this?
It reminds me of a time when I had come back to university after summer break. My instructor gave us our first assignment. Creating something with substance, something that you could defend, something you could build on. I was dumbfounded, terrified, and blocked.
Eventually something did come, but the whole time I was afraid, afraid it wasn't what everyone wanted to see. It never got easier, each time after that I feared what I was making would somehow stump me, that I wouldn't be able to hold onto it and really make it mine.
Art in any form is hard. You give away tiny pieces of yourself each time you make something. I think writers have the worst time. You give something up, it peels parts of you away, opens you up for others to examine.
Each time I sit down to put something into words it's paralyzing. Somehow, I have a driving need to say something, but can't seem to find the words to say it. It's never good, or interesting enough. I read what others write, look at what they make and I never seem to feel like I can measure up.
It's not that I am not confident, honestly few would know I struggle with this, it's just that internal voice, that burning question. Is this okay, am I okay? I think I am okay. I walk around not looking like I am anything but composed, I think.
I lay in bed at night and wonder, does anyone else feel like this?
2 comments:
We all feel like this.. I do everyday..just be YOU and it will all be good I am sure,,,,e
Do I feel like this? Every day. Every moment. I so badly need someone to tell me I'm okay. Tell me I'm good enough. Tell me I have something to offer.
But I live in fear of asking, and I chastise myself for wanting to know.
What a jumble of sinew, sweat, and sadness we all are.
Your not alone.
Post a Comment