Lately I’ve been experiencing a little bit of a crisis of self.
Ask any one of my friends who’s inboxes I’ve flooded with long winded monologues riddled with doubts, regrets, dreams and pleas for advice. I feel like I’m all over the board, unsure of every single step I’ve ever taken, mentally exploring every avenue possible and getting overwhelmed by the influx of information I’ve been consuming.
I’ve got a tendency to be indecisive, and that’s putting it lightly. My mind races with ‘what if’s’ and the possibility of unexplored possibilities so rapidly that I exhaust myself. I give so much of my energy to regretting past choices and obsessing over ones that I will make in the future that I forget what it means to be in the moment. The present and myself are two entities so unrelated lately that I fear I’m losing my grip entirely.
Given this spaced out, frantic, slightly deranged state I’ve been in, I haven’t really felt like creating anything. I stare at blank pages and empty word documents and I try to force words to come out but everything I write feels false, incomprehensible, and distinctly lacking.
I re-read my old material and I fail to see what I once thought made it shine. Not to say I’m not proud of what I’ve written, but it falls short of my own expectations. I’m not writing anything that pushes my creative boundaries. I’m not expanding my comfort zone. I’m taking the same concept and dressing it up in different outfits to present it to you all on an assembly line of average.
This may sound like a harsh critique of my own work. I’m not naive enough to say that everything I’ve ever written is not any good. That isn’t true. Some of the things I’ve created hold a very special place in my heart, but the fact of the matter is only a couple of posts here have the quality that I have always hoped to embody.
I want to be a writer that makes you squirm in your seat because I’ve put a name to an emotion you haven’t quite labelled yet. I want to be honest, instead of presenting any kind of facade. I want to make myself a little uncomfortable every time I press publish because I’m a little uneasy with how authentic I’ve been. The name of this site is undesirables because I don’t want to discuss the things that are easy, I want to dig into the uglier more cringe-inducing parts of myself, forage into uncharted territories.
There is a simplicity in this kind of vulnerability. I’m not talking big dramatic moments, or revelations of misery on a large scale.
No, the type of vulnerability I want to tap into is the qualities that make us all human. The awkwardness, the anxieties, the complete and utter terror that comes with the territory of a human experience.
Let’s talk about accidentally embellishing a story and the embarrassment when someone calls you out on it, or the sinking feeling in your stomach when you respond to a social cue wrong, or the horror of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.
Let’s talk about the world. About how sometimes we tend to talk more about helping it than actually helping it. About how change is easy to imagine but hard to implement. About not knowing how to help, but wanting to desperately.
I feel that in drifting in and out of focus my own life, I’ve drifted from the original intention of this blog.
So- let’s reclaim.
until next time,