We need to talk you and I. Like many casual, non- commercial bloggers who get no monetary gain from the words blasted onto the web, I sit here repeatedly staring at the empty box where my words are supposed to go. No sentences, no words appearing. Where’d they all go?
I feel they are all gone, all my words stripped from me.
Except, I am nearly bursting with words.
You see, I have “been a writer” since I was small; poetry and short stories mostly. Then my poetry evolved into lyrics when music became my creative vehicle. Real writing though, lived only in the pages of my journals. I battled my darkness, pain, hope, and fear with a pen day in and out and like any journal warrior, bleeding on those pages saved me. Literally saved me.
I have never taken my writing seriously but if anything has been burning my soul lately - this is it. In general I feel as though I am withering away for this lack of any creative output in my life. Life happens and lately I find myself in the longest stretch of time where I have not had a steady creative outlet. There has been no photography, no writing (not even journal war), no painting, no guitar plucking, no film, no poetry, no piano.
Not only is it time we talk about this, but furthermore it’s time I start explaining why there’s been this creative aversion in my world.
Are you ready?
I’m not.
A few of you may know me from some past adventure we shared. Perhaps we went to college together, youth events, summer programs, or in some way our worlds met and you are still poking around.
If this is the case you might know that up until about 8 years ago I identified as a faith fueled Christian. You would have found me half way through my MA in Spiritual Theology, further ruminating on a previous BA in Biblical Studies, and I had spent most of the time previous to that doing missions, youth outreaches and trying to live life along those faith pathways.
Having grown up in the church, around the church, with church people and doing church things - my art (through any medium) has always been connected with “faith”. I was always in those fringe circles of the church where connecting faith and art was paramount and often not understood. Art came to embody all the internal struggles I had during those years. It was the building that housed my doubts about faith, my fears for the future, my sexuality, and my past demons - all those pieces you don’t want to admit to yourself and don’t have words for.
So when 2014 rolled around and I - officially and tangibly - made my exit from “the church” after a gruesome 4 yr internal war that no one knew about. I walked away from literally my whole world. Networks of people I had existed in throughout my life - gone. Friendships and conversations all changed if not disappeared because they were no longer “faith” focused. Most poignantly though I ended up leaving all the art and creative mediums in my life because they were intertwined with expressing my faith.
Faith and Art were such oxygen in my life. I was the weird fringe Christian always at the edges of the pack because I appreciated things Christians “weren’t supposed” appreciate - i.e. Quentin Tarantino films (gasp), rock music, and artistic expression even if it was raw. Art was the focus of why I was studying Spiritual Theology; Christian history is full of theologians and common folk expressing their faith through art in one way or another.
So there I was - walking away from 8 years of Theological schooling, a network of Christians across the globe, and into a reality that was entirely stripped of any and all framework of understanding. At the time the one piece I thought ran deeper than the faith framework of my upbringing - art - ended up a pile of broken pieces when
all was said and done.
I feel like a toddler holding a marker for the first time trying to draw within lines. I can see the lines but somehow I can’t control my hand the way I want. This creative outpouring is something so familiar but it feels awkward and frustrating.
It’s a matter of life and death though for my soul right now- the urgency to find a way to separate my past from my art so that I can move freely again is paramount. There is anger that - even still - I am fighting to be free from that past and what I feel it took from me. Such time was lost, such opportunities missed - and yet it is a part of me which I have to accept.
What an impossible thing to reconcile.