Some days you just have to do something.
Doing something, rather than thinking about it. I’m talking about the creative side of you.
The writer, the painter, the sculptor, whatever it may be.
What is an artist anyway?
I write about painting miniatures when I don’t have the time or motivation to get some brush work done.
It’s silly that I write so much.
I’m not a huge fan of writing. I enjoy writing things, ideas and notes most of the time. But, it’s not a passion. Words are a tool. Simple as that. I use words.
They can be beautiful in certain forms, but I’m not a poet. I don’t like poetry, in fact.
But, the work is endless.
I’m the kind of person that instinctually feels the compulsion to stay busy. I’m not sure why, it’s just that wiring up there.
But, I’ve learned a lot being this way. Busy.
I know I’ve learned a lot, because I’ve tried and failed a lot.
Here’s a thing I learned.
Sometimes, the mood, or lack thereof, hits you.
Slaps you numb in the face.
No internal drive, just fumes. The will to move has burned out of you. A literal drain of spirit.
Who knows why it happens to some people? Everyone!
It must happen all the time!
To me, to you, likely.
As a fitness guru might say, cliche, “when you’re feeling like you need to stop, that’s when you work harder”.
Or something like that.
Snap out of it!
You need to act; then, the passion follows.
Today was one of those days where I woke up and felt—
I just felt like lying there in bed and staying there.
But, I knew that it would only leave me less excited, more dead.
The entire day would slip away.
Then, I hear my twin boys crying in a distant room.
Maybe, it’s because I lack sleep.
I’ve got kids now and they have an energy that comes from somewhere.
And, it goes on and on.
Weird though. They barely eat anything.
They’re two weeks old.
The mornings are hard because you start from scratch. You need to manage to regather all that strength you’ve left behind from the day before.
Have you hoped somehow that the bedsheets would return that warmth and peace to you?
Doesn’t happen. There is no distraction, no trigger point to jerk you back awake and going again.
The coffee helps, but on days like today it was merely placebo. It was hard.
Then, for those 10 seconds after my eyes open again, I remember.
Sometimes, you need to get up first.
Lessons in the small fights. The small jabs of life tickle you back to reality.
I’m not a natural quitter.
Perseverance. It bugs the crap out of people when I don’t back down from fights I’ve probably and already lost.
See, I have a hard time admitting failure.
“I’m awake, I’m awake!”
Then, the reason you’re awake and alive comes back to you.
The pain you feel getting up is that gentle reminder.
You have a job to do, and there’s a lot of diapers to change.