Frozen

I’ve had conversations lately about art, creativity. I like the idea of creating something, expressing, but previous attempts have been unfulfilling, frustrating. Since I discovered I have aphantasia, the difficulties make more sense. So I’ve been courting the idea of trying again. Of using my complete lack of understanding of the concepts of art and design to my advantage. Of not giving up just because it doesn’t come easily & I’m afraid of sucking at it. I’m mulling, slowly, cautiously, as is my way. But then that familiar dread, that knot, that utter fucking paralysis.

No, you can’t do something purely because it might be therapeutic or nurturing or enjoyable.

 If it’s not self-improvement via achievement, it’s not happening. And this is how it’s always been, a truth that I never had words for before (not that I’m sure these are the right ones, at all). I can tell it’s terror, I know it so well, the vice-like grip.. and I know I’m powerless to move against it.

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