It is past midnight and I just finished reading your post. I’ve asked this question so many times and seldom come up with a solution to this constant feeling of being stuck in melancholy. You’ve worded this ‘sucky’ feeling so perfectly. Thank you! ♥️
This was so beautiful and honest, I loved it! Thank you for sharing! I went through this a while ago, when I got into my first healthy relationship after only dating toxic men (because I thought it would make for better writing). I wrote a poem in which I worried “what happens to the artist when the art is all dried up?”
It was a musing of why we need to feel tethered to suffering to feel worthy of having something to say. But lately I’ve traded my Charles Bukowski’s Love is a Dog from hell for Mary Oliver’s Devotions and I’ve found myself writing the most beautiful poems about gratitude and nature and the kindness that exists in the simplest of things.
Allow yourself permission to explore the light too.
After all, isn’t it Leonard Cohen that said “There’s a crack in everything, that’s how the light seeps in” 💗
Every word of this is so real. I've had a hard time writing over the past few years because I'm in an "in between" place - between winter and spring, if we're going to stick with the seasons here. I started realizing a few years ago how damaging it can be to live in the artsy, detached, "witness to life happening" position, without ever actually putting my heart on the line, giving love my all, and living in the present. The way I used to write - very melancholy, very literary - now feels insincere to me. Yet, when I write from this other place, I'm battling preachiness, cheesiness, and cliches. It's new territory, and overthinking it is doing me no favours lol. I have to keep reminding myself to stay light, to stay playful. I have to keep turning to great writers I admire, who manage to write both with tenderness/hope/humour AND clear-sighted genius, like Ali Smith and George Saunders. Or poets like Ada Limon, Mary Oliver, Bob Hicok - you know, the ones whose relentless love for life oozes from every word. It's nice to know I'm not alone!
This is me, thank you for writing this. I've journaled about this a lot, my inability to write raw and genuinely unless I'm bleeding from somewhere. My output is generally much less when I'm happy, but I'm actively trying to change that. Do you just let it be, or do you attempt to churn out stuff when you're on a high?
I enjoyed reading this, thanks. In response to your opening quote, I have been writing about how our experiences, situations, events, etc, is not our life. It's just an experience, event or situation. My life and your life is indeed magical. How a bunch of atoms, which is what I call my body, can communicate with a bunch of atoms, which you call you, is indeed mindblowing. The big bang, the universe cooled, stars formed, stars exploded, planets formed, and eventually, bang, here I am sending you a message. Friggin amazing if you ask me. I have been writing about how I think people use the word "life" incorrectly. Life is a mystery. Yes, events, situations, and experiences may be difficult, hurtful and painful, but that is not our life. Anyway, I could go on and on, but I would just like to say I enjoyed reading your piece. thx again.
idk about others but seeing your life in like a 'good for the plot' way is a decent coping mechanism when you're life is really shitty and painful and there are no short term easy solutions. romanticizing and writing about suffering is much better than just suffering in silence, writing my inner thoughts out is rly calming for me. now that my life is finally getting better though, i still have too much to say so maybe i'm just a yapper lol
I don't want to sound too psychoanalytic here, but the article touches on the very foundation of how we are made or brainwashed to see life, and how we adopt behaviours based upon, not only what we experience as children, but what society projects onto us with unyielding force. We actually can become these archetypes, and this can be very scary and dangerous.
The spring and summer fill us with happiness, while autumn and winter seem to take that happiness away, which obviously is not the case, but this is the feeling that's created psychologically. And maybe for some of us, this can be the best time to write, but as mentioned in the article, it is actually?
This may create a negative habit within us, and leads us to believe that we can only create in such times!
i've always felt that sadness was somehow more valid, more literary. that to write well, I had to bleed a little.
i often feel a strange guilt when i’m happy, like the words don’t come to me as easily anymore.
but what you said toward the end about unlearning, about writing from presence- felt like something inside me unclenching. maybe joy doesn’t dull us. maybe it just asks us to listen differently. hopefully, someday it won't be this difficult.
this perfectly articulated something i didn’t even realize i needed put into words.
What a high compliment. Thank you so much for reading!
It is past midnight and I just finished reading your post. I’ve asked this question so many times and seldom come up with a solution to this constant feeling of being stuck in melancholy. You’ve worded this ‘sucky’ feeling so perfectly. Thank you! ♥️
Thank you thank you!
This was so beautiful and honest, I loved it! Thank you for sharing! I went through this a while ago, when I got into my first healthy relationship after only dating toxic men (because I thought it would make for better writing). I wrote a poem in which I worried “what happens to the artist when the art is all dried up?”
It was a musing of why we need to feel tethered to suffering to feel worthy of having something to say. But lately I’ve traded my Charles Bukowski’s Love is a Dog from hell for Mary Oliver’s Devotions and I’ve found myself writing the most beautiful poems about gratitude and nature and the kindness that exists in the simplest of things.
Allow yourself permission to explore the light too.
After all, isn’t it Leonard Cohen that said “There’s a crack in everything, that’s how the light seeps in” 💗
Loved this post, keep them coming ☺️
Every word of this is so real. I've had a hard time writing over the past few years because I'm in an "in between" place - between winter and spring, if we're going to stick with the seasons here. I started realizing a few years ago how damaging it can be to live in the artsy, detached, "witness to life happening" position, without ever actually putting my heart on the line, giving love my all, and living in the present. The way I used to write - very melancholy, very literary - now feels insincere to me. Yet, when I write from this other place, I'm battling preachiness, cheesiness, and cliches. It's new territory, and overthinking it is doing me no favours lol. I have to keep reminding myself to stay light, to stay playful. I have to keep turning to great writers I admire, who manage to write both with tenderness/hope/humour AND clear-sighted genius, like Ali Smith and George Saunders. Or poets like Ada Limon, Mary Oliver, Bob Hicok - you know, the ones whose relentless love for life oozes from every word. It's nice to know I'm not alone!
This is me, thank you for writing this. I've journaled about this a lot, my inability to write raw and genuinely unless I'm bleeding from somewhere. My output is generally much less when I'm happy, but I'm actively trying to change that. Do you just let it be, or do you attempt to churn out stuff when you're on a high?
I enjoyed reading this, thanks. In response to your opening quote, I have been writing about how our experiences, situations, events, etc, is not our life. It's just an experience, event or situation. My life and your life is indeed magical. How a bunch of atoms, which is what I call my body, can communicate with a bunch of atoms, which you call you, is indeed mindblowing. The big bang, the universe cooled, stars formed, stars exploded, planets formed, and eventually, bang, here I am sending you a message. Friggin amazing if you ask me. I have been writing about how I think people use the word "life" incorrectly. Life is a mystery. Yes, events, situations, and experiences may be difficult, hurtful and painful, but that is not our life. Anyway, I could go on and on, but I would just like to say I enjoyed reading your piece. thx again.
idk about others but seeing your life in like a 'good for the plot' way is a decent coping mechanism when you're life is really shitty and painful and there are no short term easy solutions. romanticizing and writing about suffering is much better than just suffering in silence, writing my inner thoughts out is rly calming for me. now that my life is finally getting better though, i still have too much to say so maybe i'm just a yapper lol
So good i cried every word
Felt this cause I’ve never been creative without some form of suffering😔.
You write so well ❤️
This is so beautiful to read. I enjoyed every bit and I can relate so much.
uff felt this – sadness is a blessing
These words are the feelings buried within me and you just effortlessly unearthed them like u were me 😭✨🤍
I don't want to sound too psychoanalytic here, but the article touches on the very foundation of how we are made or brainwashed to see life, and how we adopt behaviours based upon, not only what we experience as children, but what society projects onto us with unyielding force. We actually can become these archetypes, and this can be very scary and dangerous.
The spring and summer fill us with happiness, while autumn and winter seem to take that happiness away, which obviously is not the case, but this is the feeling that's created psychologically. And maybe for some of us, this can be the best time to write, but as mentioned in the article, it is actually?
This may create a negative habit within us, and leads us to believe that we can only create in such times!
I felt this in my bones, thank you for laying it bare
i've always felt that sadness was somehow more valid, more literary. that to write well, I had to bleed a little.
i often feel a strange guilt when i’m happy, like the words don’t come to me as easily anymore.
but what you said toward the end about unlearning, about writing from presence- felt like something inside me unclenching. maybe joy doesn’t dull us. maybe it just asks us to listen differently. hopefully, someday it won't be this difficult.
beautiful piece.