On Creative Anxiety
I’m going to start with a tangent before jumping headfirst into this. I’ve named this “On Creative Anxiety”, and one of my least favorite words is in there — “creative”. I got some weird baggage with that word, especially when it’s used as a noun, such as “You need to meet my friend Chaz! He’s a creative, too!” And apologies to anyone named Chaz; I don’t believe I know anyone by that name, so it was an easy choice.
However, I’m really fond of the word creative when it’s used in its intended form as an adjective, which modifies or attributes a noun (looking at you, Chaz). A creative thought or action is imaginative, usually drawing from originality and self-expression. And that’s an awesome thing. As an illustrator and as an animator, some of the my favorite memories are tied to times when I’ve made things. This undoubtedly is a result of years spent with my head half-submerged in a bucket of LEGOS as a kid.
And as the story goes, that kid grew up, went to a liberal arts university, got a communication degree, and found ways to create things and (eventually!) get paid for it. He became a freelancer, made a Twitter account, exposed himself to other creators, copied their styles just enough to not get caught (but did this one time anyway, whoops), and developed a forward-facing identity around his work. So what does this have to do with anxiety? A lot, I believe.
Full disclosure: I’ve come to the realization in recent years that I’m a bit of an anxious person, and I don’t think we need a tally of raised hands to know this can be a common feeling among people who create things, either commercially as a job, or solely as an art. I’d go further and suggest you can compound that anxiety if you’re a freelancer or entrepreneur. Double points if you’re an introvert, too. It’s taken me some time, but I can now both recognize and understand that having an identity wrapped too tightly around a creative profession has robbed me of some joy. The thought pattern goes like this: Since I can always get better at this skill, it’s quite possible I’m not good enough right now, and maybe I’ll never be good enough. Left unchecked, this type of thinking spills over into how you view yourself, which is scary territory.
One of the hardest lessons I’ve had to learn is that I’m more than what I do for a living. I need to remind myself of this truth daily, and often times I get lax and need an encouraging word from a friend. The mindset of having a self-worth greater than my abilities is a habit I’ve had to develop, the same as eating healthy, getting proper sleep, and leaning on faith and reason instead of my emotions and imagination — which as an anxious person, are nearly always in flux. This is a daily practice, and I’m just a novice.
This brings me to what I really want to talk about here, and that is ways to healthily combat creative anxiety — or maybe any anxiety for that matter. I’m far from a blogger, and I’m sure not qualified to be an inspirational speaker, but I’ve wanted to put pen to paper and do this for some time now, because this subject is important to me. To the best of my knowledge, nearly every anxiety I feel can be attributed to one of two things:
- Anxiety Over My Limitations
- Anxiety Over The Actions Of Others
Anxiety Over My Limitations
We can’t do it all. You might try, and you may even do an okay job for a while, but I’d wager there will be a moment when the weight of relying on your own strength and understanding becomes too much, and you wake up feeling bankrupt. My view here is a Christian one. I’ve chosen to not talk much about my faith online in order to separate it from my work and professional interactions. I often think that’s a good practice; dialogues about faith are more meaningful in smaller forums, such as a candid conversation between two people. That’s my opinion at least. But for the sake of my reasoning that anxiety falls into two camps, I must bring God into the picture now. So here goes.
The anxiety I feel when I look at myself or at my work and think that neither is good enough is in part a result of losing faith in God’s omnipotence and provision. Now, you could attribute this to low self-esteem, or the proverbial “war of art”, or many other things, but I personally believe it all returns to having put too much stock in my own abilities, and not ultimately leaving things to faith. Creative work and running a freelance business are great accomplishments, however I’ve noticed they can unfortunately put an inhuman weight on one’s shoulders, especially if self-criticism sinks in.
Not to over generalize, but nearly every talented designer, artist, or writer I’ve gotten to know has said the following sentence to me in some variety: I’m my own worst critic. And this often times gets a positive spin, if it’s not a humble brag in disguise, that is. Saying you’re a harsh critic of your own work says you’re aware you can always be improving, which I believe is a healthy thought. But in my experience there is a slippery slope that follows if this train of thought goes unchecked. It leads straight down to self-criticism.
And I tend to justify the anxiety that follows. I’ll tell myself statements like: If I’m not going to worry about this, then who will? or I have to be THIS good, or else everything will fall apart, and I’ll just be mediocre! Thoughts like this have gotten me into trouble. Most noticeably, they’ve strained relationships. And over time, these thoughts have allowed high levels of anxiety to feel like the new norm. It’s something I’m not proud of, but I imagine I’m not alone in this. However, in my work and in my personal life, I’ve experienced great relief when I’ve chosen to surrender these notions of inadequacy and powerlessness. The good news is I don’t have to carry that inhuman weight, but I do have to want to lay it down first. And that may be the hardest part. The Serenity Prayer says this:
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.
Though it’s somewhat popularized, I just recently read this for the first time, and chose to commit it to memory. It’s a transformative prayer for one’s personal life, but I believe it’s amazingly applicable for one’s work — since aren’t our labors part of life? I believe they absolutely are.
Anxiety Over The Actions Of Others
I’ll begin describing this second camp of anxiety by admitting much of it is similar to the first — similar in that other people’s actions are outside of your control, and therefore really shouldn’t be worried about, especially when the actions have nothing to do with you. Easier said than done. When looked at through the lens of a creative career, this quickly brings up comparison. And boy, can we struggle with comparison. I partly blame the thin black rectangle I carry in my pocket, and all the apps I’ve joined and accounts I’ve made to feign relevancy and connection. The fear of missing out is a very real thing, and again, I’m one to believe being a freelancer or entrepreneur can intensify this emotion. It sure has for me, and I’ve had conversations with other freelance animators who’ve said that constant comparison is killing them. Figurative or not, that’s a heavy statement. From a limited (and anxious) perspective, it’s easy to think every other freelancer I know is working with great brands and with the most relevant studios. Sure, they might be, but do you really know? And does this directly affect you in any way? Probably not.
Being exhausted by this anxiety lead me to what I’m calling an obvious epiphany, which is this: Worrying, and even speculating, about what other people are doing and experiencing leads to nowhere. I say that it’s obvious here because once I finally committed to relying on reason instead of my ever-changing moods, it all seemed like common sense. Other’s people’s actions don’t need to have this much control over me, and they sure shouldn’t dictate my happiness. Again, there’s a relief that comes from accepting that there are things outside your control, and in this case, it’s namely the actions of other people. But what you can control is how you respond.
If you don’t know who Viktor Frankl is, please spend a few minutes on Wikipedia and learn his story, and if you’re interested, pick up his book Man’s Search for Meaning. It’s fantastic. This is arguably the most famous line he ever wrote:
Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms — to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.
People can do anything to you, but you’re able to choose your attitude. Now, I’ve heard different varieties of Frankl’s quote countless times — often times by people trying to put some sense in my head — but being the stubborn person I am, I can be resistant to believing this truth when I feel anxious about work and personal life. Over time, attitudes become habitual, be it good or bad. I think the best practice here it to strive to be proactive rather than reactive. Being proactive, much like discussed above, is understanding what things are in your control and focusing on how you can change the situation. It also means accepting the things that you can’t control. But a reactive lifestyle means you see each event as a wave you must brace for and ride out — anxiously wishing it won’t be as bad as it looks. It means you make a habit out of expecting the worst so that you might be surprised if things turn out okay. In other words, a glass half-empty mentality.
Again, this is applicable in every area of life, which includes one’s work, but I want to give special attention here to creative professions. Fostering a healthy attitude towards how and why you create is just as important as improving on your skills. In fact, I would say that in the long term it’ll matter more. The actions of others on the periphery shouldn’t fit into the how and why. If you work in a creative profession and truly want to enjoy that lifestyle, I believe you are required to make a habit out of not letting the actions and opinions of others weigh on you. Instead we must be proactive in our actions and thoughts.
In my experience, this looks like self care and humility. I have to consciously decide to detach myself from my work at the end of the day to focus on the necessities: sleeping, eating, and community. Sleeping and eating, though simple, can be tricky things. As I’ve gotten older, and as my metabolism has changed, I can absolutely feel the effect of making sure I eat enough and get appropriate sleep. The result is lower anxiety, not to mention some physical health and more energy to approach my work in the right way. And then there’s community. It’s at the end of the list of three, but it might as well be first. Regardless of introvert versus extrovert arguments — which are usually overgeneralized and unhelpful — everyone needs community. In fact, we’re built for it. But while designed for community, it doesn’t always come easy for us. I could blame changing times, millennials, and the South, but that would be some pretty reactive thinking, wouldn’t it? A proactive approach would be to focus on the community you’re already residing in and search for ways to contribute, reconcile, and honestly — just enjoy the gift of friendship and being known.
There’s no wrap up section to this! That’s all I got for now. Thanks for your time, and I hope you found my thoughts on work, faith, and anxiety helpful in some way.
B
