I have this fear, the fear of just letting loose with my creativity. I read about and watch people – documentaries or real life artists who are just going for it and doing their thing. They are following their heart and not budging and embracing their skill, talent, and thing that makes them unique. I dream of doing this but I am so fucking scared.
I worry about money. I worry about failing. I worry that I am not cut out for that kind of gutsy way of doing things. I worry that I will just spend my life worrying. I worry that I won’t have any friends because I’ll be too wrapped up in my own creative world, trying to make ends meet. I worry that I won’t ever quite ‘make it’. I worry that I won’t have anything to say. I worry that I’m not actually any good.
In a nutshell, I WORRY. And I’m scared. And I reckon that is pretty bloody natural, and any artist, writer, or human being, feels this way at times, or a lot, too. But I’m also torn because in my heart I just know I have the ability to either make friends with the fear and carry on regardless, or kick it in the nuts and carry on, or both. I know this is innately within me and has been all my life, fear and suppression by myself and others just has often gotten in the way. Not always though – not always, at all. It just feels like it now.
I am filled with envy, jealousy, admiration and inspiration when I read or hear of stories of people who have just gone for their dream, sacrificed things, lived in a shed to make ends meet but all in the name of passion…and then they make it. Okay, I’m not jealous of the shed bit but I’m jealous that they can be in love with something that much and have made friends with the fear enough to do that, leaves me in admiration. I’m not saying that’s easy, at all. I’m just saying I reckon there has to be a certain level of fear friendship that goes on to enable individuals to just bury their head in their creative passion, and then enable them to come out the other side beaming.
Maybe the freedom and the freespirited-ness in my writing and my creativity and my confidence to get this shit out there, will come. I hope so. And I think I know so. I just wonder whether I’m able enough? Able enough to just GO FOR IT.
The fear could aid creativity and creative expression. It could be there as something that empowers me, kicks me up the ass to get up and GO and just SAY IT, whatever ‘it’ is. In the moments and days I don’t surrender to it, and carry on regardless, it could bring a fire and a inspiration to me because of this.
I don’t believe we can ever get rid of fear, and I definitely think it can serve us well. But it can also take a fucking hike at times too. Just the thought of attempting to become a writer fills me with dread. The initial thought fills me with excitement but then when I get to the nitty and gritty, I could almost vom at the thought of it all. The potential things that could go wrong, the risks, the potential for complete failure and wasting and all my other potential that would be put on the side to try and make this happen.
But what about the excitement? The thought of being paid to WRITE. The thought of having my voice out there, in the world, being read and seen and heard. That’s the thing I think – I care too much. Well, not too much, but just a LOT. Caring is all gravy but I notice it overwhelms me and I buckle at the knees because I just want to give it my all. See, there’s a positivity behind the fear, it just comes out in twisted self-sabbotaging ways. The fecker.
I hope that the fear settles and I work out what it is hear to teach me. Or I hope that I just learn how to kick it in the nuts and let it inspire and motivate me, rather than demoralise and deflate me. There is, after all, a thousand ways we can live our dream and do the thing we love – being a writer doesn’t necessarily mean doing it full time. Maybe this brings too much fear and doesn’t hit the spot, anyway. Maybe I use my writing in a job or work for a organisation or a project where writing is the main role. Maybe I’ll learn to be free and learn to let go and learn to just not give as much of a shit.
And, maybe I don’t need to decide right now. I dream of being able to just throw myself at the thing I love, but maybe if I give myself credit and notice what I’m doing, I’m doing just that. I’m just doing it gently and I’m doing it without the living in a shed bit.