What am I supposed to do when I want to write, but can't think of what to say?
I have this urge to create things, put a part of me out into the world, but I keep running into walls in my head. I spend time throughout my day imagining what the future could look like if I just figured out how to get past these mental blocks that dog me week after week. The freedom of adulthood undeniably has its perks, but at the same time, I am shackled by unseen forces that I struggle to understand. Chalk it up to depression, anxiety, ennui, undiagnosed mental conditions, whatever you want.
When I was a teenager, I would find the time to be creative even after hours of school, extracurriculars and homework. I would make a low effort video game on Game Maker Studio for fun, or a dumb YouTube video for a few laughs. I taught myself the drums, theorized creative beats, joined a band, practiced my ass off and won Battle of the Bands. What I made wasn't always the most revolutionary or even interesting thing, but it didn't have to be. The merit of the creativity was never more important than how it made me feel.
Adults will probably cite their jobs as a main reason that creative energy wanes. You can find tons of articles about how creativity declines as you get older. I'm sure there are plenty of factors. I don't care. I'm sick of being on autopilot.
I've already made some lifestyle changes since COVID happened to try to improve my physical and mental health. I shouldn't be in a bad place, but lately I find myself having to take midday naps or drink that extra cup of coffee just to stay functional at a baseline level, never mind reach that mental state of creative flow I desperately crave.
At the end of the day, I have to learn how not to feel paralyzed by the big picture. I don't want these writings to become an overly negative pity party. Progress isn't linear, and all that. But, I am stuck feeling weighed down by all of these experiences left laying around various corners of my life, unfinished and waiting to be picked up again on some arbitrary date, yet to be even partially realized.
Are we really supposed to just go through life, letting parts of us fall away forever through inaction, and then we die, losing everything? There has to be more to this experience that I'm just not seeing yet. My soul wants to come alive but my body can't find the way.
Whatever the case, I just have to get started on something, see where it takes me. Everything else is out of my control.