The Curse of Creativity

Have you ever experienced an interest in everything? Childlike wonder for absolutely every aspect of life?
Maybe as a kid, you went through a few different stages - "I want to be an astronaut, a pirate, a doctor, a police officer" etc. Imagine, if you can, living a life where that never stops.

I question it sometimes. Is it a disorder? Am I autistic or some other such condition that I can't quite quantify? For as long as I can remember, I've always felt this way. I'm interested in everything. I want to do and experience everything. From the banal, the monotonous and mundane, to the extraordinary, spectacular and fantastical.
I want to understand what life is like for those in crippling poverty, or at the bottom of the social ladder and I want to be a great athlete, a politician or a superhero.

I'm perfectly aware that this isn't possible, of course. That's a deep and often insufferable source of frustration to me. If you always feel like an outsider, no matter how loved and welcome you may be in any given group, it can be very difficult just to muster up the courage to carry on sometimes.

Whether through ego or some other sense of self-realisation, I feel like being a creative person sets you apart from other folk. There's also a sense of destiny about it, for better or worse. That being a creative person is what you are and what you do - there's an inevitability about it. If you have the drive to be creative, you will be compelled to express yourself in your given medium(s).

I love to write, to sing, to act and perform - to express myself and to be a conduit for the words of others. It's not just that I enjoy doing so: this is a necessity for me. As fundamental as breathing. I've spent thirteen years trying to find a substitute for the fact that I'm not on stage anymore and I've had limited success. Acting was my first love. The first time I truly felt utterly alive. Empowered and impassioned like never before. My memories of my performances are my most vivid and most treasured. I adore bringing a script to life and entertaining others. Connecting with an audience is a feeling unlike any other.

So despite not having been on stage for so long, my creative drive has served as one hell of a motivator for me to do incredible things.

I've traveled the world (rather a lot, actually) and in doing so I've played the parts of an adventurer, an explorer, scientist, student, leader, chef, charity worker and so many others. I've loved them all.
I've achieved a third-degree black belt in ITF taekwon-do. Through martial arts, I've been a warrior, a tactician, an underdog and a champion. I've learned what life with injury can be like, and how valuable sheer perseverance can be. I've been humiliated, and ultimately I've been humbled.
As a snowboarder, I've climbed and conquered mountains, battled the elements, seen some of the most beautiful views our planet has to offer. I've been exhilarated and exhausted, I've become an experienced and knowledgeable instructor, and I've formed valuable friendships through shared experiences. Instructing others in extreme sports has shown me how I can help people overcome their limitations or anxieties and have them achieve something incredible, taking part in one of the most exciting and unique activities any human being can engage in.

So thirteen years without being on a stage have not been wasted. Not even remotely. But everything I do has been a means to connect more to my own sense of self, and to expand my understanding of the lives of others. By experiencing as much as possible, I've made good on trying to "do everything" - within reason, of course.

However, I can't ignore the fact that whilst all of these endeavors hold immense value to me, I still feel as though I've been pretending I'm someone I'm not. As though I haven't been true to myself.

Thirteen years of that leaves a mark in interesting ways. In my case, some the frustration I've felt from not properly expressing myself has contributed to my "moderate to severe anxiety." I've developed other health issues from bottling up my feelings over such a long period of time, and it turns out that suppressing years of stress and discomfort can really take its toll.

This has all lead me to my current position. I didn't chase my dream of acting because I took to heart the voices that told me I'd never been good enough, or that it isn't a "real job" and how it's "hugely competitive." But I've spent so long searching for anything that even remotely resembles the thing I love the most, and I still haven't truly found it. Yet writing these words for myself and for anyone reading sure comes close. 

Even with all the amazing things I've done, I still sometimes feel like I've let myself down. And that anxiety has made it really hard to complete applications for jobs in theatre, or to commit to applying for an acting course at theatre schools. Outside of that, it has held me back on so many occasions when looking for jobs elsewhere, or in changing my circumstances generally. I've spent so long building up such a huge stockpile of insecurities and self-doubt, that even with all that success behind me, I'm still utterly terrified I'd fail if I did decide to chase the dream again. The struggle to do anything and everything other than the things I need to do is a desperate one. I'll procrastinate by tricking myself into a burst of short-term productivity, neatly avoiding the fears of my long-term plans for my future. I'm doing it now by editing this blog instead of focusing on my applications to snow schools elsewhere this winter.
Friends of mine are making big changes, taking huge leaps in their lives and I can't properly express how proud of them I am or how happy I feel on their behalf. But I always leave myself until far past last. I know this is anxiety holding me back - but it's so difficult to put myself first when years of anxiety have left me struggling to see myself as worthwhile.

What if the naysayers are right? Would attempting to get back into the acting world after so long outside of it be a colossal waste of time and money, or would I finally get the closure I've been craving? Can my newfound love of writing and my passion for being creative on my snowboard override my desire to perform on stage or screen?

I won't know unless I try. But please understand, I have no problem trying new experiences - but returning to an old experience, or changing my circumstances now scares the shit out of me.

Thank you for reading.