Sometimes after seeing a show, it will be like all of the motivation and energy is sucked out of me, like I’m sick, but without physical ailments. Maybe it’s expectation versus reality? I get this feeling more often than not when achieving any goal. Once I’ve done it, then what? Find another mountain to climb, another obstacle to overcome, or another thing to see? Sometimes it’s like seeing through someone else’s camera is more exciting.
The day after this Sabaton show, I felt depressed.
It was within my top fives shows of the year, I couldn’t have been happier, I had the day off, and yet through most of the day, I just felt bland. There was a weird sense of having seen something I had hotly-anticipated for weeks and that anything else for the foreseeable future would just not be as exciting in comparison.
This feeling happened again today.
Post-concert, with a day full of potential, where I’m finally starting to achieve some degree of success from my writing, and yet, I’ve just wanted to sleep through the day. If it weren’t for my daily writing obligation, I wouldn’t even be writing this, but without that obligation, I also wouldn’t be at the point where I’m at now – good, or, bad. I have sacrificed many hours, dollars, and opportunities to be at this precipice in my budding writing career.
Yet perhaps I’m anxious about it.
Maybe it’s not all that it’s cracked up to be? Maybe I just want to be a recluse that writes whatever he wants, rather than being guided by editors and external influences? Those don’t really bother me for the most part. Once I write a piece and let others edit it, it’s no longer mine, and I no longer feel a sense of obligation toward it. It’s not mine anymore. To expand on that, as soon as anything I do is published on the Internet, it’s no longer strictly mine. We begin to share these ideas of mine. My life’s philosophies, my characters, and my stories were mine to experience in the writing process and for you to experience in the reading process.
I’m content with that.
But it’s a different experience than life up until now. It’s like cutting out elements from your life or craft that actually help improve things, but those things are also comfortable. The days we spend doing nothing, free from the obligations of new duties and opportunities, are comfortable, but they also don’t get us anywhere. I used to abhorrently despise not feeling motivated. Now that I’m on the tail-end of a sludgy, demotivated state: it’s terrible feeling demotivated. My responsibilities lists are always looming in the background. I’ve felt guilty all day for not writing anything today, let alone all of the obligations I’ve volunteered to do, which in turn will get my name out there.
I am limited by many human ailments.
Certain days, I am a production vehicle for thousands of words.
Today, 500 was enough.
|Sources: My personal experiences.|
|Inspirations: I wanted to explore these depressive feelings I’m having right now. Maybe I just pushed myself too hard yesterday?|
|Related: Other Sober Living essays|
|Photo: My favorite “junk photography” concert shot.|
|Written On: November 14th [30 minutes]|
|Last Edited: First draft; final draft.|