to write these words alone, it has taken me two weeks and 5 days to acknowledge them, and subsequently regurgitate them onto some type of medium. they have sat in my throat making room for themselves, pulling up chairs to hang curtains that obstruct my view and lull me to sleep and honestly, I wish I knew why I have been feeling uninspired. why drawing comparisons between myself and people online who show me segments of their life, makes me feel like I am either not doing enough or my gifts aren’t like there’s so I must somehow shrink myself and not put anything out because the social media algorithm ultimately confirms what I subconsciously think – nobody will like it, and I better keep what I make and enjoy to myself. you’d think I’d understand by now that approval from others doesn’t do much for growth, because not everyone will like what you do, neither will they always understand you. I tell myself this, but sometimes the reality is not the same, and it takes a continuous effort to pull myself from my bed, draw the curtains and sit down and write the words even when I don’t know what will come out, because they have clumped up in my throat and it will result in me coughing out the lump, teary and red eyed, in order to realise that sometimes, most of the time, all of the time, I can create and be and do all things just because, and less so for approval and love from others. that maybe my writing doesn’t need to be complimented, the likes don’t need to be checked every 30 minutes – I could just post for the sake of posting because I like how I look, and I did a thing and it doesn’t measure up my worth or mean that what I am doing or what I have isn’t a gift or a talent just because someone else doesn’t see it or acknowledge it.
I say all this and lump it into one fat paragraph but, come Thursday I will rehash over these feelings. I will wake up, the sun beaming through my opaque curtains, pick up my phone and head straight to instagram and twitter, scrolling endlessly ‘til I lose hope in humanity and compare myself to the well-known influencer artist who’s style is completely not mine – the same bottomless pit forming again in my mind and there I will be, falling until I manage to reach a bottom in the pit I thought bottomless, and there I will sit for a long while. I’ll sit and contemplate whether to drag myself back into the shadows, as opposed to actually sitting a while longer to see and realise that I can just be me. that who I am may not be enough for some, but it is enough for me and my growth does not always have to be public and seen to acknowledge that it is a thing that is happening. that, when I remove the wandering eyes of spectators I did not ask for (or simply aren’t even looking but, I have convinced myself that they are and that they care), I give way for freedom in simply being ok with living my life as it is, posting all the things because I just want to cherish the moment, share it with others and, be ok with the algorithm being an algorithm, as opposed to it being a system that controls my life and makes me think that human approval is the only way I can move through this world and do all the things. if I am posting, sharing, writing, drawing, painting, tweeting, instagramming – basically all the things – for the sake of others and their approval, I am not doing it for the right reasons and I must acquaint myself with that reason, rehash and come back. to bring it full circle and hopefully having shaped an oval instead, knowing that I am not perfect and as humans we do desire connection, approval and love from people, deeply – even from those we don’t know – because we want to be accepted but, acceptance can’t come at the detriment of my mental health, self-worth and value being questioned because others do not see it.
honestly, most of the time we are so absorbed in ourselves and our own worlds, we don’t give time for others, and once I acknowledge that and keep putting into practice what I tell others so often, what I know consciously and subconsciously – maybe then I will realise that inspiration is not merely drawn from people and their approval of us. the way the light leaks on to the walls; the curve of my coffee cup; the birds making awful tweeting noises in the morning; the foxes ‘screaming’ at night; the way spider plants bend their leaves showing off every curve saying ‘I put the time and energy into my own growth – what do you do?’; the way music does that thing that makes me want to dance or cry, to sit with it and inside it, and get into the mind of people that just create because that’s what their soul desires for them, they simply their calling; the way my family only laugh when they truly find something funny, the deep belly laughs that make all in the world feel right; or the way I miss hanging in coffeeshops with my friends, sunlight falling onto their face and without a second thought, reaching for my phone and snapping a picture because their soul has revealed itself in its full form thanks to the perfect lighting and this whole debacle embarrassing them, just because.
I have been feeling uninspired, because I have not given myself a moment to realise that modesty does not mean diminishing your talents or comparing what you do and who you are, to others. in knowing myself, I give time to realise that I am not all I will be right now – I have years, and time to expand my horizons, to hone my craft. not having it all together now, not knowing what my art style really is, realising I don’t really enjoy non-fiction books, that aesthetics are deeply important to me because they make me feel at home, and being ok with not being a perfect plant mum. I will probably kill a few plants in my lifetime, and that is ok. maybe I’ll fall into the bottomless pit that has a bottom again, but this time I know it has a bottom, and eventually I’ll come to a point where I’ll be able to look into the pit and drop a plate down there instead of my whole self. everything has a bottom, and I will take that reminder and remove myself from the ouroboros of comparison and false humility. I will call myself out, do all the things I love just because and, most importantly, I will give myself time.
bottomless pits have a bottom. everything has a bottom.
sunday, once more 