Hello everybody !
I'd like to share something with you that I've been pondering
about for the past weeks.
Maybe you can relate if you're in a similar situation:
I've arrived at a point of my life where I suffer from a loss of perspective, the gradual lack of faith and the helplessness of being stuck, lacking the strength to push through. I'm disappointed by people, friends and the way they treat each other.
The old notion of "Do well, be kind and study hard, then you'll make it !" had suffered through on too many clashes
with "harsh reality" and had crumbled.
It used to keep me going and for years, I could firmly believe in it without falter or doubt.
And now, there was only a lack of faith - that and disappointment.
Even worse was the nagging feeling that I disappointed little me - the boy I once was.
You see, at some point during his life, the boy started to turn from a living being into a simple machination, an automaton when things got really ugly. It might have been the unfortunate family situation he was in, maybe it was being ostracized by his peers, the guess is anyone's. Since he apparently wasn't expected to be, he turned to mere function. The development department was closed down and the factory only focused on meeting the production quotas.
It worked, but that was all it did - it didn't give no comfort, no warmth and only false sense of fulfilment :
("I did what is expected of me, so I did well.").
Looking back, I feel incredibly sad for the little one;
he narrowed down his focus of the world so that he would be able to perform sufficiently - for the sole sake of performance, it seems. He put all the beautiful things he encountered on the back seat for
"the time when I can finally do what I want !".
Being allegedly at this point now, I feel incredibly guilty of not meeting the expectations of little me.
In regard to the many things he put on the shelf for later on and all the happiness he had sacrificed, I feel like I disappointed him.
He strived so hard to create the foundation and framework for me to make use of and I don't follow up.
I wonder why I have such a hard time lifting the veil and doing away with all the mental restrictions and halts that little me put in place in order to make himself "work".
I've been struggling to find something to hold onto for the last weeks; most of the things I used to believe in had fallen to pieces and the what was left deteriorated upon closer inspection.
I felt like people had been lying to me about life, how people treat each other and many other things.
Confronted with this bleak thoughts (call it "harsh reality", if you want to), I began to pity the little guy for giving away so much of himself for . . . well, this. I wondered how he could so firmly believe, how he managed to push through and wither all the dark clouds ?
What gave him the strength to carry on ?
Was it simply because there was no alternative ?
Because he "had" to ?
At that point, I began to envy him for his determination.
Nowadays, I have a hard time finding something to believe in.
Being an adult (oh, how much I loathe the term) it's tough to wither the storms, always hoping for the silver lining on the horizont, occasionally catching a glimpse of it, only to have a new stormfront cover it up again.
Friendly words and encouragement is hard to come by in this world, especially if you're surrounded by the wrong people.
I wished for somebody to believe in me; someone who'd tell me that I'm going to make my way, no matter the odds.
Somebody who believed that I could do, because it's me.
Backed up by that trust, I could get up and go against the storm.
Pondering these throught, I realized that there was somebody who had put all his trust in me. Someone who was so convinced of my ability and determination that he could put himself through the toughest of times without losing his faith:
He believes so firmly in me that he gave all of his hopes and dreams, all the things he put on the shelf to me for safekeeping.
He was certain that I would succeed where he couldn't and he did everything he could to support me.
Who believes in me ?
The little boy - little me - does.
He used the determination he had to create the trust I need now.
A little boy put all his hopes in me
Trusts me implicitly.
I guess that will do.
If you're struggling with your artistic self like me and are looking for answers or encouragement,
I can point you to the works of Stephen McCranie:
Of all the works on artistry and artistic strive I've seen so far, these are the ones I'd recommend.