This last year of college has been my most struggling one yet. I just finished my junior year. All of my classes are now officially my major classes, and it’s getting down the the last two semesters of my college career.
In the past year, I have been dealing with a creative struggle. I have been uninspired to write anything: new, old, revised and revisited. None of it called out to me as it used to.
There has been nothing I’ve found worth writing and found myself sinking deeper into the black-hole that is my phone and social media. I used to stay up late some nights just writing through whatever scene I’d had playing out in my head all day. Or not sleeping for almost two days just to finish reading an entire book that sucked me and made me grow attached to the characters or the stories. It’s been over a year and a half since I’ve read a book for my own pleasure, or cried with happiness or sadness at the way the words on the page made me feel.
This past school year, I’ve been sucked in to a deep unmotivated mindset that stifled all creativity that entered my thoughts. I stopped myself from writing when I had free-time, and would go to my phone to get distracted with Instagram or Facebook for hours! I opted out of going outside because I was too tired from school and work. I found no joy in reading books for school, for a grade, and would only read the first few pages of the books assigned to me in class before immediately losing interest.
I got my heart broken by the same person multiple times because I was too attached to let go of what was no longer good for me. This was the heartbreak that really broke me as opposed to the other’s I’ve had before. I lost a lot of weight stressing over him and falling behind in school. I was never depressed, but my colorful sight became bland and bleak for a while.
This semester was my hardest semester yet to come. The classes I took were straining on muscles of my creative mind I hadn’t worked in so long. One class required me to work on one semester long project, and another gave me prompt after prompt for assignments. For the latter class, every assignment was a different piece of fiction. Every article reading was a new perspective on what a character is and how dialogue is written. It was this class that reignited the fire in my soul that was snuffed out for months. It was this class that reminded me why writing was everything to me in the first place.
In one year, I graduate college. I’d have my BA in English- Creative writing. I’d, hopefully, have a different job, at least an internship, one in my field, rather than still working in the same retail job I’ve had now for two years.
At the beginning of this year, I told myself that I wanted to be in a different place than I was last year. I wanted to move forward with my life and allow myself to change and grow along with it, rather than staying in one comfort zone.
Where am I now?
Finally getting to understand myself more as a person outside of a romantic relationship. I’m in no rush to date anyone new just yet. I don’t think I will be for a while. My little bubble of friends grew a bit over the last few months with people that are showing me what it’s like to live freely and unapologetically myself. The memories I’ve made with them and the moments we share are ones that make me feel like I will always have a support group. I’m going places I’d never been before, having new experiences, and realizing what it’s like to have a group of friends that you can just sit around with and just talk under the stars with.
I’ve also met new people in my life that are following the same creative path I am. These are people I think I will continue to have workshops with outside of the classes we took together. That’s something I’ve never had before.
I can’t say that I’ve gotten rid of whatever it is that’s made me not want to read or write. But I’m slowly pulling myself out of it.
Somehow, I will write.
As for this blog? No restraints. I’m going to try this a little differently this time around.
Bare with me.