Grief, loneliness and other Creative Blues
A few months ago, thoughts about what it means to be a creative and how that may be contributing to my loneliness and vice versa began to brew. That led to a brief exchange with someone I admire and I truly believe is quite brilliant in his pocket of the world as a creative but somehow, his energy always felt “lonely” to me which I always thought was interesting. To me, I couldn’t understand how someone with so much experience, wit, rhythm, and allure would be or choose to be alone. One thing about me, I can admit my own ignorance and I didn’t understand choosing a thing and a thing just being what it is- was he choosing loneliness or was that just the current state of his reality? We started this conversation via Instagram responding to content I had shared. Contrary to popular belief, there is content that creates impact and catalyzes conversation like the one we were having. Shifting to blue messages in text, I shared how I was struggling with security and actualizing my dreams of being a full-time creative. I wanted to leave corporate so badly and step into this agency and other endeavors with my full self- I still do. He stated “full-time entrepreneurship ain’t no hoe..but I support it. I’m just saying balance is key cause these late nights get old sometimes.” Something I knew all too much because I’m still healing my relationship with rest in all forms. At the same time, I always felt that because a bulk of my currency of time is spent on working my “grown up job” followed by a gym schedule and other adulting woes, in the peak of the night seemed to be the only time I could be at peace and less distracted to actually create and tend to my creative business. I stated “ we got harmony but we working on balance....I’m just tryna keep the momentum up and give the same energy to my own shit as I do the job.” One of my many fears is allowing creativity to go dormant again which has always been prompted by the fight of my mental health and just surviving - niggas just tryna be alive to actually see the promise land [the arrival of a God dream(s)]. Been holding tight for so long and I’ve been in a wave of slipping. He proceeds with “These are creative hours where the rest of the world is quiet. Productivity is high, sanity is low. The loneliness is what drives the creativity unfortunately” I appreciated this perspective because I felt seen and wasn’t met with faux hyper-positivity - I be needing to hear the real shit straight up, no chaser. The mental gymnastics I was doing trying to unearth my struggle to be inspired but it then hit me, this is the loneliest I’ve ever felt in my life. I thought I was at a standstill to produce anything but my desire and yearning, the chase of innovation and craft, was prevalent and at an all-time high. The seeking, the searching, excavation, inquiring, and even the writing of this is in fact a part of my creative journey. This state of being lonely has been fueling it the entire time. The desire for connection, impact, genuinity, and originality from and with humans will always burn inside of me.
According to Merriam-Webster, two definitions of lonely is “producing a feeling of bleakness or desolation” and “not frequented by human beings”
BLEAK
“exposed and barren and often windswept”
“cold, raw”
“severely simple or austere”
This is the rawest I felt in all 29 years and not in a complimenting way. Stripped raw to the barrow marrow of all the things I thought I would be. Without these things that have been the measurement of my success, joy and content that have also been aiding in my comfort with discomfort, I have felt like a bottomless well unable to bring water to the surface. Life feels below zero and very boring. The rivers have dried and gardens are fruitless. I am toiling through the bones, tumbleweeds, and dust for any discovery of life where I can sow on furtile soil again. The sun just ain’t been the same sun for a long time but still, I remain in it’s orbit not finding others wanting to collide planets to create something cosmically beautiful whether it’s love or a vision come true. Will I be alone forever? Will there always be a gap between me and other great minds? Will my community continue to build and flourish? Will my heart rest at some point? Will the right people with longevity and loyalty find me or will I continue on as a misfit with a broken compass?
DESOLATION
“grief, sadness”
Synonyms: sadness and blues
In a way, this is the blues. A creative blues. A blues so blue it invented the color blue. A tribute to the complex life of a Black woman just trying to fulfill God’s purpose so afraid to waste the gifts. With the recent earthly transition of my uncle who was the embodiment of striving to complete the mission given to him from above, it’s been hard to not be existential and gloomy about the future for me and loved ones. One thing about death, she gives zero fucks. My relationship with her has been equally complicated and anxious. Grief has been a common space I’ve found myself in more times than I wish over the past three years taking those that didn’t make sense and those that should still be here. It has also taken many of my selves and first-loves - a death of identity, ego, and destiny. I don’t know what to do with that feeling and I don’t know what life has in store as I continue on. I am always looking over my shoulder not knowing when death will be around the corner to rob again- people, dreams, this little light of mine. I am grieving the old me or maybe I’m grieving the process of becoming this next me because I don’t know her. I am in between identities in Muddy Waters. This state of being has been crippling to my hope and optimism that once fueled my ambition. Putting language to this sadness is healing and I know where home is always. Growing up under the undertone that Black women can’t be “sad” has aided in the suffering and pain. We can’t afford to be sad or don’t have the grace to be and that reality is honestly how depression can plant its seed. But am I really depressed or aching to be validated, secure, understood, and protected?- a solo mission that has been mountains and valleys for me.
Going back to this idea of rest, this is where I’ll leave it for now. Maybe I’ll come back to reveal more or maybe I never will because the blues moved through and beyond me to a place I can continue to float in my own solitude peacefully no matter the body of water - shallow pools or uncharted oceans. Freedom and happiness for me will look like not being tethered to a person, place or thing as a source. The only source I need comes from within and above.
