Anxiety Vs. Writing

For as long as I could remember, writing was a part of my life. I fell in love with writing in the first grade. It was my sanctuary as it gave me space to create what I wanted without judgment. I could bask in the limitless worlds of fantasy, magic, and creating different characters in my control. I breathed in these stories as if I was in the shoes of the people I created. As a kid, I was less worried about how well it would be received. It was mainly for the love of it.

As I approached adolescence, that feeling of passion started to subside.

A string of thoughts started to flood through my mind.

I began worrying about other writers, established or not. I worried about them being better than me in terms of skill and that nobody would bat an eyelash at my work. That I would never be good enough for any publisher. This does include all the list of requirements big-name companies expected of writers or if my work was even valuable enough.

I didn’t want anyone to think I was chasing after something impossible. It even more difficult when the people in my life were even doubting me. I was being told that it was hard, to begin with, or an unrealistic goal. To some, it only mattered if I was actively working a well-paying job. One particular comment from my teacher really stuck out to me. I remember them telling me to consider another career path or that the road ahead wasn’t going to go smoothly. It was a way to discourage me. The fear of their student becoming a starving artist in a world uncaring.

It became a battle between my passion for writing and my anxious state of mind. Some days I would procrastinate and let the fear consume me entirely; laying on the bed and staring blankly at the ceiling. It seemed much easier than facing the deadlines ahead. Especially after a big writing project, my energy would decrease. Afterward, I felt as if I was a failure to everyone around me and they would hate me for it. I couldn’t break that thought of being rejected and told passive-aggressively it was horrible. It sounds quite cruel to think that about yourself.

But this is my reality.

I am not my mental illness; I know that for sure. However, it doesn’t change the fact that it is an imperfect side of me. It’s complicated when you choose a field in the arts and watch as everyone around you succeeds faster than you. Sometimes I ought to wonder if this was really the right choice. It worried me that I am in fact faking all the achievements I worked hard to rightfully own.

One of the most painful thought processes is staring vacantly at a word document.

I’m wholeheartedly expecting the ideas to flow through my brain. The motivation slowly turns to dust as whatever I start to type gets deleted several times. I second guess everything that is written.

Too cliché.

What kind of character speaks this way?

This idea feels as if I have stolen it.

None of this makes any sense.

I’d email a friend telling them in detail why this story or poem is a horrible idea to begin with. I would make sure my computer was out of sight. The thought of it in view made me believe the ideas would only become worse. I’d have a mourning period where I thought I could never craft a new piece together. I was possibly wasting every minute of my life not writing. Even if I took time to rest, reflect and spend time with my loved ones.

Then I learned that taking time is just as important as the writing itself. Sounds crazy to beginners. When in this situation, I must treat writing as if it’s a snake plant for example. As I own one myself, I must not overly water nor give it a lot of sunlight, as it takes a few days for the plant to absorb what it needs. If I tend to it every day, it will feel the effects of being overstimulated and grow poorly. Same with writing or any other kind of art.

Allow yourself to take breaks and the quality of your work will improve. Resting doesn’t mean you are lazy and having an anxious mind makes the process feel like a chore. Rest is necessary and I can’t stress it enough, even as creatives. It will be much easier to create all those spectacular things you dream of.

Anxiety is normal. But know that it isn’t forever. Even in my own dark space, it is temporary. As always, I made it on the other side. I promise you the view is beautiful.