I identify as a creative person. I always have. If you ask me, I am someone who draws and writes and paints and sings. I say these things even now, when I have come to a point in my life where these are things I never really make time to do.
Drawing and painting has gone from being a peaceful, joyous, enjoyable activity to something that stresses me out so much that I can't even start something let alone finish. I'm certain that this is a product of my insecurities and need to overachieve in everything. I feel the pressure of performing. I'm too old to draw terribly. I start a drawing and think it's great, but then I can't finish because what if on that last pencil stroke I make a mistake and ruin the whole thing. Insecurity. Imperfection. I fail before I even start.
My blog is testament to how little I write at the moment. I still keep a diary and I write in it most days. It's not creative writing. It's not poetry. But I tell myself that that's better than nothing. I read and tell myself that it's almost as good as writing something myself. I feel so uninspired. My life is so the same. So stable. What is there to write about at this point? I've seen it all before. Uninspired. I don't know how to start.
The only thing I still do is sing in the car...but even that is being replaced by listening to podcasts...A more grownup use of my time. Or something.
I'm losing the will to make time to do things that are a huge part of how I define myself as a person...
Is this depression again? Am I changing as a person? Or do I just need to shake up my life and do something inspiring?
