On Saturday afternoon, after a nap – my son was off playing with a friend – I started writing my “morning pages.” Now I have done this type of thing for most of my life, writing in journals. Sometimes I’ve written very religiously but often my writing has been sporadic. This will serve to keep me in the habit of daily writing.
So in the process of writing on Saturday, I began thinking about the fact that if my excuse to never be able to do any of the creative things I want to do has been a lack of time, then right now that shouldn’t be the case – that I actually DO have the time right now. So I started thinking about things I could do, for fun: like work on some of the little writing projects I have started and never finished, or drawing – just sitting down and drawing, for fun. Or I could pull out my piano books and my son’s electronic keyboard and see what I can do.
And something occurred to me. As I was writing about the fact that I could actually do some of these things – things that I always felt unjustified in doing, like that it was irresponsible of me, self-indulgent – and here I had a word that I wanted, but couldn’t think of it. You know how sometimes you know there is a “perfect” word for what you want to say but you just can’t think of it – well I thought and thought and drove myself crazy. And then the word popped into my head, as it always does. And I was very startled and surprised when I knew what the word was that I’d been looking for. The word was “decadent.”
I looked it up:
CREATIVE PURSUITS ARE DECADENT??? That is absurd! No wonder I have never felt comfortable with my “art;” I didn’t want to be guilty of “MORAL TURPITUDE!” 😀
And I was just completely shocked to find that I felt this way. But then I started thinking, No Wonder. The way I was raised, the only satisfactory way to be was to conform to this little “box.” Obviously, I never did conform to being in a little box, but I honestly tried to “do the right thing.” And the confusing thing was that life skills and ethics were all mixed up with morals, and none of it was very clear. I’m sure my parents never intended to make me feel this way about my creativity; I don’t imagine they ever even gave it much thought. But it was important to me and whether it was meant or not, these feelings emerged. And the more my artistic interests were ignored (or even scorned), the more damage I sustained. It was devastating. From my earliest childhood, I somehow began to form the belief that the things I liked, the things I LOVED, the things that were important to me, were not acceptable. Sure, a little creativity was OK but it was just “fluff around the edges,” one certainly should not be so irresponsible as to put any real importance on such frivolous things. And that was especially true for a “Christian,” because our only directive was to “prepare for the coming of Christ.”
Well, I failed miserably at all of that. As much as I thought I wanted to, I was unable to believe in such “truths.” I was unable to accept that it was required to live life in a way that did not offer happiness or self-fulfillment, whatever that might mean. So I essentially felt DOOMED. And I have lived most of my life trying to combat an overwhelming, chronic case of underlying MISERY.
So, could all my years of pain and failure and serious depression be simply a case of blocked creativity – due to a subconscious belief that it was a “moral failing?” That blows my mind! I have had my fair share of “real” moral failings, and I’ve overcome those, so what’s to stop me now?
So this has been an awakening. And I will see where it leads me. Do you know that by the time I was 17, I could no longer play the piano? I was completely BLOCKED. I was 17 when I painted my last painting. I did, however, continue to write, although I was not able to write the way I wanted to, and I wrote of pain and longing instead of the stories and things I wished I could write but was unable to believe in my ability to write. But I journaled and I wrote poetry – lots of “dark,” lonely poetry. Some of it I’ve thought could be songs – if I knew how to compose the music.
Another interesting thing. When I was married and ended up joining my husband in smoking cocaine, I was aware that the drugs affected me differently than other people I observed. It seemed to remove some of my “blocks.” I suddenly found myself writing and drawing after years of not being able to. I actually wrote some things that I believe are quite good. I think the main reason that I had such difficulty stopping the drugs was because of how it affected me creatively, more than anything else. Not that I am trying to plead a case for doing drugs, it was a horrible way to live and I will never again go down that road. But I learned some things through that experience. And I know how all this relates to ADD and that ADD drugs are meant to accomplish similar results. In fact, when I was finally diagnosed with ADD and given medication, I had high hopes that it would help me in this way. There has been some improvement, but not enough to satisfy.
Anyway, yesterday I actually sat down and planned in my Planner, and had a very productive day. Today I intend to do likewise. I am feeling somewhat optimistic.