I'm gonna make a little vague reply to the anon who was really going through it the other day and vented a bit to me. I'll be vague and unfortunately, I'll be making connections to myself in the naive hope that it creates a kindred bond of understanding despite my experiences paling in comparison. Ultimately, I will never really understand how hard things are, but I can care enough and feel something mirrored in our common human experience so much as to have the audacity to talk about it like it'll help with something in some way....
So I think the word is burnout. It's very closely tied to depression. A branch or a root to the overwhelming and overpowering malaise. There's a line where it's normal. Natural. An experience everyone struggles through. And there's a line where it's an inhumane form of waterboarding that makes a spiritual person go into warfare with faith. As artists we can't create or we find ourselves a frustrating accomplice to our expectations. We start to hate company. We find no comfort in the day-to-day. Our remedies become our poisons.
So everyone's first instinct is to find some kind of strength out of thin air and weather through it. But, yeah, it's not that simple. I've had these moments myself. Even my buffet of options creatively and socially find my nose turned up like some spoiled brat, while the unease itches at me almost physically like insects under the skin. People are exhausting. My outlets are dry. I can feel my foundation tipping forward and the vertigo is terrifying.
So I make the feeling small with a mundane title; "burnout" is so trendy. Artists talk to about it like the common cold, not a death sentence. I can use that. And then I take a step back in those moments of intense irritation and annoyance and discomfort. I say it aloud. "That email from my new boss is getting to me." "I might be jealous of all the traveling that acquaintance is doing." "I'm not anxious, I'm disappointed." There is always a ring leader to the overwhelming feeling. I respond in turn. A literal out-loud pep talk. Or permission to distract with non-productive tactics. (Permission to exist is a big one for me. I always need to be productive, it seems.) And then I read the malaise for what it really it. My body is telling me something is wrong. I am not where I need to be. I am not supposed to hate everyone. I am not supposed to be antsy and irritated and alone. I like people, I like my art. Something needs to change.
Hate to state the hard part out loud but yeah. Something's got to change. Life is demanding a paradigm shift and it's never the easiest way out. But it's not always the most straightforward. I can speak to all my ways of replying to a fraction of that looming depression and in most every instance, I never regretted taking the leap toward quitting that job or moving back home or taking that medical leave. It's not easy and it adds stress, but it reminds me who I am and gives me strength from the sheer external discomfort.
Anyway, I'm done. I'm thinking of you anon. Feel free to share, I might not always reply but I'm happy to be a sounding board. Hope I wasn't too presumptuous. Just another human experience, knocking heads against another.
