This is me. I am trying to write about depression. When I write, I don't like to think I am writing. I like to think I'm doing something else. This time, I like to think I am sculpting. And I decided to start by the body of the text.
To start my sculpting, I decided I wanted to listen to an incorporeal sculpture: music. Yes, I feel music is, in itself, a sculpture. It requires building, composing, throwing away. I decided then to listen to Coldplay's sculpting so I can orchestrate my post. But I can't. There are no (working) radios around to listen to.
After building frustration, I have to make do with iTunes' ambient radio.
Then the pen. I feel starting to write using a computer is distracting, so I start with pen and paper. And the torture starts again: my chisel is too dull and I can do nothing to start building my sculpture. I get another pen, and it works just too well: I see blotches on the paper all around.
Writing feels like torture now: the body of the text is disfigured.
I start to wonder: "should I break my model, like a crazy artist and start over?" I decide that if I start over, I'll start over and over again. This is already the third time I do it.
The truth is, I wanted the text of my body to look like Michelangelo's work. The second model was close to an 8-year-old's school model. This one is much better, but it isn't talking about depression as I wanted it to.
The tought that things haven't been "good enough" has haunted for over 20 years. Everything, from college to writing, doesn't seem "good enough", and it becomes a horrible torture. I know these toughts are unrealistic: some pieces of my work don't meet certain standards, some pieces of it do, and some are better than expected. But I can't help not to feel different. And the cycle goes on and on: I can't tolerate the stress of not being good enough, so I don't do my daily goals, and I feel I'm not good enough because I haven't accomplished my daily goals.
What about you, dear reader? Have you ever been through this?
To start my sculpting, I decided I wanted to listen to an incorporeal sculpture: music. Yes, I feel music is, in itself, a sculpture. It requires building, composing, throwing away. I decided then to listen to Coldplay's sculpting so I can orchestrate my post. But I can't. There are no (working) radios around to listen to.
After building frustration, I have to make do with iTunes' ambient radio.
Then the pen. I feel starting to write using a computer is distracting, so I start with pen and paper. And the torture starts again: my chisel is too dull and I can do nothing to start building my sculpture. I get another pen, and it works just too well: I see blotches on the paper all around.
Writing feels like torture now: the body of the text is disfigured.
I start to wonder: "should I break my model, like a crazy artist and start over?" I decide that if I start over, I'll start over and over again. This is already the third time I do it.
The truth is, I wanted the text of my body to look like Michelangelo's work. The second model was close to an 8-year-old's school model. This one is much better, but it isn't talking about depression as I wanted it to.
The tought that things haven't been "good enough" has haunted for over 20 years. Everything, from college to writing, doesn't seem "good enough", and it becomes a horrible torture. I know these toughts are unrealistic: some pieces of my work don't meet certain standards, some pieces of it do, and some are better than expected. But I can't help not to feel different. And the cycle goes on and on: I can't tolerate the stress of not being good enough, so I don't do my daily goals, and I feel I'm not good enough because I haven't accomplished my daily goals.
What about you, dear reader? Have you ever been through this?
Nenhum comentário:
Postar um comentário