losing yourself

i am under tension

Lately I feel so tense and restless like I can't relax and can't think and can't breathe.

I used to be able to organize my thoughts so easily. The forming of sentences that bled into paragraphs was almost a reflex rather than a thing to be pondered over. Something that just seemed to come so naturally.

Nowadays it would seem I struggle not only to speak but to write; not only to write, but to think; it is as if everything I have heard, all the criticisms and recommendations and interventions have not so much helped me as they have stifled me. There are words inside of me that would have been free at one point in my life, now smothered and festering for lack of release.

There are images, scenarios, ideas, withering and dying for lack of light, for lack of time spent dwelling on them.

Perhaps not all thoughts are meant to be entertained, but if we do not engage with our imaginations enough, they will become corrupted and they will die. Because of this, I feel I have been forced into a corner, at least in a creative sense, where I have no freedom and I must follow a strict set of rules to avoid hurting people's feelings, to avoid them being concerned about me, to avoid creating something so utterly monstrous that I lose control of it.

I often say that I don't know where it all comes from, but my work does not necessarily control me. I am an addict to the creative process, I love to "get my hands dirty" and partake in the beautiful steps known as The Making.

My work does not control me. I merely let it lead me sometimes. I am still in control. I have a plan and a purpose for everything, though sometimes I forget what that purpose is. I'm forgetful. So forgetful. I am working hard to reinforce my memory so I do not lose my mind. Effort should count for something, shouldn't it? And yet my efforts constantly feel discounted, belittled, not enough. I can understand that I was meant for greater things; I recognize that I have talents that I am not using to their potential. Maybe it is all a waste and I am just lost and wandering.

Praying about it. I am. Working on it. Working on myself. All I ask is patience. Don't berate me when I fail, when I fall short. It discourages me, which is not what is often intended. What some may consider encouragement, I internalize improperly. This, I understand, is an issue I must work out.

I almost feel like it's like my own interests don't matter and everyone else's should and I should just go along to get along. That's what I feel is expected of me.

All this to explore the fact that I don't feel the same as I used to. While that isn't exactly a bad thing, I'm not too fond of it either. Because there are so many times now where I can't think, I can't write, I can't draw; can't release in any form of creative medium because I'm harboring the thought in my mind that someone is going to confront me about it. Someone is inevitably going to think I am crying out for help. I'm not. I'm just creating. One thing I wish is that they could separate the art from the artist; just because I create a thing doesn't mean it is a direct reflection of my feelings. I'm an empath, I like to explore the feelings of others. I am fond of coming up with scenarios and deciphering how one would feel in said scenarios. That doesn't mean I'm hurting. It means I want to understand other people's pain. Because I feel them, and I want to help them. Or at the very least understand them.

Is that so wrong?