Imagine you’ve been writing all your life: poems, short stores, ideas, etc. Your entire life has revolved around your imagination and the words that could make it a reality. Welcome to my shoes: that’s me. Ever since I was younger, I’ve had this bug in my system that has constantly produced words from my head and made my imagination come to life on the page in front of me. Whenever I felt down or unhappy, inspired or creative, I would turn to a pen and anything I could write on, letting whatever was on my brain just kind of dance out onto the page. I have early memories of drawing pictures and telling people the story that linked all the events together. It seemed like I could talk or type for hours without running out of things to say.
Now that you kind of have an idea what I’m talking about, picture yourself in front of your laptop. Now imagine that you’ve felt the need to write all day; so many scenarios are just playing in your head like the movies on ABC family that used to play on the weekends, in the early hours when the only ones awake were the people who couldn’t sleep. Random names, features and characteristics buzz around your brain like a swarm of bees, churning out random combinations of characters. Your fingers ache with anticipation. So, your laptop is open, and the page is blank. The cursor is blinking and all you can do is just stare with your fingers fixed into position, ready to type.
But it never comes.
This has been my reality for almost a year now. The writer’s block in my brain has accumulated to the height of Rapunzel’s tower. And, being that I just cut my hair, I don’t have enough rope for someone to come up and save me. My inspiration has been about as deserted as one of those old western movies, complete with tumbleweeds and sandstorms. But I’m determined to change that.
Keeping myself happy and focused have always been some of my goals-regardless of whether or not I actually fulfill them. But as I strayed more from my comfy creative state, I drifted further into a deep hole of expressionless art and projects that never seemed to be completed. It felt like I was staring at walls for most of my day and not thinking, not feeling. And I let myself stay like that. I did not try to fight the feeling; I did not try to dig myself out from that never-ending void lacking creativity.
But not anymore. Junior year has brought so much love and comfort into my life with moving into a house with my best friends, a better outlook on life and a stronger feeling of confidence in myself. My Spotify is up and running (brookeeac if you wanna check me out) with playlists FILLED with my favorite music for all different moods I feel. Even the weather, this weird vortex into autumn that we’re currently in, is getting me more into this little ball of happiness.
I’m discovering new things about myself and new things about the world around me. I’m trying to make friends and put myself out into the space around me for anyone to come and find. This is my year, my inspiration and my time to shine.
My mental health suffered further than I should’ve let it by closing myself off to any sort of creative outlet. As I struggled to recover and nurse my being back from a hard place, I found beautiful and unique ways to appreciate this life I’m living. My experiences are my own, but if you are struggling, always remember that I’m here to help in any way possible. You’re not alone in this battle. And if ever seems too tough, just take a look around.