With the time to reflect, my weekend and the days leading up to it were more than a little stressful, despite the small respite of my 22nd birthday on Thursday. Unfortunately, this entry slipped to the bottom of my to-do list, which feels like a great shame as I usually consider myself to be a very creative person.
Between the general air of worry in this pandemic, managing a flare in my anxiety levels (which exist on a good day at a low hum in any case), various personal issues and some self-imposed pressure to create lovely, beautiful, functional lockdown lessons, it was not far wrong to have this meme sent in my direction:
But the evening before this meme appeared in my WhatsApp inbox (and I feel the need to point out that it was sent in jest by someone who has been prone to feeling the same, so it was not a joke at my expense!) when I stared at an empty page in my blogging notebook and eventually gave up on the theme I felt I should know so much more about, I did what I do best. I picked up my journal instead, and spilled a long, rambly internal monolgue instead. It served its purpose perfectly. It cleared my head somewhat, and actually helped produce something that perfectly fits this theme of creativity and what I often use it for.
I know this route too well. The sky is that forboding inky shade between gunmetal grey and navy blue as I make my way home from the hospital, alone, again. It was anoher beautiful day again today but the balmy evening feels suffocating: I turn up the fans in my car and point them at my face, half-opening a window for good measure. It may be late evening and I may feel my mind drifting but I will not allow myself to zone out while driving.
Every glance in my rearview mirror leads to a moment of temporary blindness thanks to the piercing LED headlights driving far too close for comfort. It is an affront to the senses too many. My spotify playlist is already turned down low because I’m awkwardly between wanting quiet and not wanting to be left alone with my thoughts.
I can measure my moods on my desire to sing in the car. Tonight, the words aren’t even washing over me. They are swirling emptily around the car without my usual appreciation to absorb them.
For so many people, myself included, a moment of creativity can act as therapy, a much-needed reprieve from mental chatter that can make even the simplest of tasks feel difficult. It’s no surprise to me, to see so many people find new passions in knitting, paint-by-number, cross stitch, colouring, and even blogging… Now more than ever, the world needs the release that creativity can bring.