The Drive to be a Creative

Frustration.

That's what it all boils down to when I think about it. There's lots of other emotions that come to the fore, but once I skim the foam there's just one thing left. Anger, sadness, fear, regret, hope, and certainly others that are more difficult to identify - they all melt away and leave only frustration.

I've tried my hand at a number of different artistic mediums over the course of (nearly) two decades in pursuit of some elusive, deep-rooted desire. A craving that simultaneously motivates and discourages me every day. The drive to be a "Creative". To be someone who can express themselves with some level of articulation beyond the blunt statement of facts. Someone with an "outlet" for the creative magicks that churn within. Yet every time I try, it never comes out like I'd hoped. It never really captures what I was going for in a satisfactory way. Some twisted combination of perfectionism, disappointment, and desperation so often stop me before I've even finished - assuming I'm even able to get started in the first place. Sometimes I get further with it than others, but the end result is always the same. I throw it all away - the art, the supplies, even the friends I made while exploring the medium, and I'm left only with frustration, which leads into a deep depression, which is then followed by a period of introspection.

To this day, these bouts of introspection lead me to a single question that I've yet to discover an answer for: Why? Why do I care so much? Why do I keep doing this to myself? There are millions of people in the world without an artistic bone in their body who get by just fine. Why isn't that good enough for me? Why can't I just accept that I'm not who I want to be?

I see those amongst my family and friends who are all too capable in a variety of artistic fields and I'm envious. I want their ability, their inspiration, their purpose, but why? What is it about being "creative" that is so alluring to me, especially when it's so overwhelmingly obvious that "creative" is the absolute last word anyone should use to describe me? I've pondered it for almost twenty years and I feel I'm not any closer to an answer than I was when I started.

I know there's something in there. I feel it deep in my core. Something in me that wants - needs to get out. To be committed to paper or canvas or clay. To be seen just for the sake of having been seen. It motivates me even as I write this stupid little blog post that nobody's ever gonna read to just keep looking for some new medium or genre that'll work. Surely this time it'll click and I'll finally be able to fulfill that part of me that so desperately wants for something I'm just not capable of providing. I just don't know if I have it in me to try anymore. I don't want to (yet again) dive into the novelty and get myself excited, reaching deep into what should be a veritable wellspring of imagination, only to come up empty handed. I don't want to be like this anymore.

Comments

[Isuvyw]

I've had the same feeling as well, though maybe not as bad as yours. But I do understand the frustration that comes along with doing creative stuff – especially when others seem to do better than you or myself.

If it's your passion to draw, then draw.

Take a break every now and then. Don't push yourself. I have a bad habit of doing it because I don't want to lose out to others (you likely feel the same way). But taking a day off might help clear your mind for awhile.

Perhaps try old mediums again. You don't always have to go looking for new ones. Maybe return to the pencil and paper. Or in pen. Again, don't force yourself.

Bring creative sucks. And that's ok.

However, I do know a cure for frustration, and that is asking Jesus for help. I know, you're probably not religious and might be upset, but really, that's the best answer I can offer to anyone. Pfft, I dare say that anything to do with Jesus is not religious.

If you feel that depression again, just ask Jesus for help. Despite what eveybody thinks, He's very much concerned about you and me, because He was a human, died as a human, and resurrected again. So of course, He knows all about being human, and all the trash of being a human. He cares, and I care too.

If you really want to know more, feel free to DM me about it. I'm more than willing to share it with you. Take care, ya?