For me, living in isolation is a double-edged sword. On one side there is the familiar security of living in my own space and the comfort of a simple routine, then on the other side there is the neglectful behaviour, where I don’t tend to my needs and when depressed I keep digging a hole deeper and deeper into the endless abyss instead of making a better effort to pull myself out, by getting out into the world. This presents a dilemma, because tearing away from the isolation gets more challenging the longer I’m in it and what is considering healthy gets lost. Yet, can I transform my way of life to be less of a hermit, or is that who I am meant to be?
I’m taking the time to get myself out at least one day a week and then to work on my writing. Hopefully, over time, I can stretch that to more days until I can try and break the cycle. I’m not sure if this will be the solution, but it’s the only idea I have right now. Usually I wait for inspiration to turn up when it comes to writing, but I’m aware it helps to be disciplined if there’s ever a chance of developing it further, so using that as the reason to get outside is a worthy incentive. However, sometimes it requires breaking through a thick wall to get to the point of doing anything creative. Today I find myself dragging the words out of me, but I continue to type anyway.
Using the turmoil and the dismay that we contain within ourselves can be a useful catalyst for creativity, yet how far can that really take us? Does it depend on the drive behind that, or for as long as it beats at us, is that good enough? It’ll be a another test to see if that can keep propelling me forward. Time will tell if it’s successful or not.