Peep my old WordPress accounts or my various social media pages, and you’ll find that I’ve been a prolific creator. From skits on YouTube and a daily fashion blog to Spotify albums and a modest Etsy business, I’ve done my share of amateur production. I’m a dab hand at cosplay and painting, and I’ve even tried my hand at acting and writing fan fiction. I’ve done so much, and it’s been so long since that period of my life that I am probably forgetting some interesting tidbits. Point is, I was once an artiste. So what happened?
Well, becoming a parent didn’t help, but the real culprit was 2020. Like many white folks, I had been living under a rock (and let’s be real, maybe I still am). I silenced myself so I could listen. In doing so, I found inspiration to become part of the change. I gave up my reasonably well-paying career in engineering to pursue a significantly less lucrative degree in mental health counseling. (Yes, the money matters, and not in the martyr-y way. More on that later. Maybe. Guess you’ll have to come back to find out.)
School and the uncertainty about how much of a voice I should have led me to become a consumer of content (I still mostly eschew the prospect of consuming things, with a few exceptions). In my small ways, I sought to amplify the voices of others. I downplayed what I might have to offer to the world. It took realizing how much my life experience has to offer in enabling me to connect with my clients to find my footing again as a creator. There’s also a fairly self-serving component here: I can’t do this at work. My job is all about the clients, as it absolutely should be. Even when I do see my coworkers, we’re all too busy documenting (or in need of a break from attuning to others) to spend much time socializing. Our schedules are too disjointed to indulge in common luxuries such as lunches out or happy hour. In a way, the work of a therapist involves setting aside our own humanity for 53 minute blocks at a time. Something about that doesn’t sit quite right with me. Without personal reflection and periodic feedback from my community, how will I truly engage in the experience of living and growing as a person? How will I generate such contemplation? Well. I’m glad you asked.
I will begin creating again. The hard truth of it is, whether you’re just getting started or jumping back in, it’s easier said than done. While in school, I found it difficult to maintain any significant non-academic projects. It got to the point where I could not even allow myself to do a jigsaw puzzle unless I was on a break between semesters. I had to limit my output to school assignments, and my intake to such parceled meals as TV episodes or the occasional movie. My creative muscles began to atrophy halfway through the X-Files, and settled into a nice rot during my Michael Keaton binge. Over the past few weeks, in anticipation of my upcoming graduation, I’ve taken stabs at songwriting, painting, journaling, and even learning new techniques on the banjo. Each attempt left me feeling worse than when I started. Some branches of counseling prescribe “mastery and pleasure activities” as a treatment for depression. The trouble was, I had lost what dubious mastery I might have once claimed. Even so-called pleasure activities such as playing video games left me feeling as though I had wasted my evenings away. Nevertheless, like any good workout routine, I must go on trying if I wish to see any gains. I humbly beg you to bear with me as I labor forth.