I'm at that point again where I have a screen full of unfinished drafts in my blog queue. Time to publish something.
For me, not writing is usually a sign of overwhelm. Too many thoughts; too much to do. When I feel low on time and energy, I start to crave the abyss. I hop on the path of least resistance: dopamine chasing. Constructive activities are replaced with a strict regimen of hedonism.
In the moment, I feel entitled to it. The backslide is justified because I always seem to be working so hard. It's part of the lingering burnout from the past decade of computer science classes and tech industry jobs. Too long without a break, and now my psyche wants nothing but leisure.
Working on two STEM degrees while leading a physics club, a fraternity, a recording studio, and a rock band was rewarding. It was also hectic and stressful, especially with my student-worker income and mounting debt. In some ways my adventures in technical writing were the opposite: a stimulating endeavor that put me on firm financial footing and yet, no matter how interesting, rarely fulfilled. Staring at a screen eight hours per day for eight years didn't do much for my motivation toward creative work, either.
Anyhow, creating is just the first hurdle. Then comes the ever-present pressure to publish. Even when I manage to get my thoughts out, I take myself too seriously. I worry that my words will have negative consequences. Any reminder that someone is paying attention causes me to doubt myself and withdraw.
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| I am a snake head eating the head on the opposite side... |
This paradox is inconvenient, to say the least: I have ideas that feel important---that ARE important to me---but I fear the consequences of sharing them. Even the thought of feedback makes me freeze. It's one reason I'm awful with social media and self-promotion. I overthink it.
It's the same way with music. People have told me a song I've written has brought them to tears. I've seen it happen at performances. Folks seem interested in supporting my musical career. But historically, the process of recording and publishing my music has been one of show-stopping self-doubt. I've never released an album on my own.
And yet... Performing is easy. Maybe because there's less room for perfectionism in the final product. The preparation is the hardest part, and I get to do that alone. My job at the show is just to sound good and enjoy myself.
It's similar to editing a piece as opposed to writing it myself. The former is mostly a rote exercise, whereas the latter is a creative process. I act more efficiently with clear constraints.
Maybe that's the secret. I need to rein my ideas in. Give myself limits, boundaries... Deadlines? Fine, but too much restriction is sure to stifle the process.
Yikes. Another paradox.
A reframing might help. Paradoxes don't sound fun or productive.
Let's try it this way: A spectrum exists between insecurity and self-importance, as well as one between rigidity and openness. Every creator maintains a natural balance on both scales. Sometimes a jarring idea or event shifts that equilibrium, redefining the person's emotional needs and thus their creative output.
I think I've been on the insecure, rigid side for too long, and it hurts my soul. So... Time to publish something?