I'm Unmotivated
I want to be creative, but I'm finding it difficult
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¡Hola Papi!
These past few years have been difficult, but in the past six months or so, I've gone downhill fast. I don't see the point in trying anything. I used to write and create things, but that stopped after my mom died in 2018.
Since then, the state of the world has gotten worse and worse. I'm going to be 35 soon and I'm feeling like I've wasted all my time. What's the point in creating anything now? I lack all drive or motivation. I want to create, but it seems pointless. I can't make myself start, and if I do, I don't continue for more than a few days or weeks if I'm lucky.
I saw your tweets about some panels you're drawing. I'm impressed that you do so much. You really put in the time and the effort. I wanted to write to you to ask your opinion on finding motivation when all your creativity, drive, and hope seem to have disappeared. It feels gone, but maybe it's just buried. I don't know how to get it back.
Signed,
Burnt Out
Hey there, Burnt!
Social media can distort the reality of things. If I look productive online, then I assure you it’s all smoke and mirrors. I’m in my flop era, I’ll have you know.
Indeed, I think we might be in similar ruts. Lately, whenever I start something, I’m confronted with a massive wall of, “Why?” Sure, I’ve had writer’s block before, but it feels different these days. It’s starting to feel like less of a block and more of a condition. Maybe we can brainstorm together on why that is.
It seems a malaise has settled over multiple disciplines and industries. There’s a gray film over everything, or at least it feels like that to me. Sensation has been dulled, passions muted. I’m lazier, clumsier, less driven. Effort feels… more effortful. Chores, maintenance, hygiene, all cost more energy than they did before. I keep being told to allow myself some grace, to be patient and kind with myself, to acknowledge that a lot of people feel this way right now.
But truthfully, I’m over that. I just want to be able to do things again. And, to be blunt, I don’t live in a society that rewards “grace.” I live in a society where rent is due and I have certain obligations I have to meet if I want to keep things moving along.
So, yes, I “do.” I push, and push, and push—writing, drawing, invoicing, and so on, even if it feels like walking on a broken leg. It’s true that this is a pretty common sentiment at the moment. These past few years have changed us, and I don’t think we’ve been able to take a collective breath and acknowledge that.
Wounds have gone untreated, loss has gone unmourned, and we have been asked to keep going as we always have, even if the beams and the mechanical guts have been exposed and we now know the machine is on the fritz, that it’s not working the way it should. Push, push, push.