Sometimes the silence is worse than the noise.

Ever since starting therapy and taking medication on a regular basis, I’ve found a lot of ways to cope with and address the old insecurities I used to get hung up on. At the same time, I’ve also noticed a drop off in the passion I once had in creating. I don’t know if it was healthy to make several trips in a day to various craft stores and work into the late hours of the night trying to craft a mix c.d. to perfectly express my feelings, but it was exhilarating. There is a certain zest, an indescribable feeling of being alive that comes with that passion, though I am not sure now if it was an artistic drive or just a general sense of anxiety mixed with being in my early twenties that caused me to think and act the way I did. It wasn’t always a bad thing, but it definitely wasn’t something I could have kept up with without completely burning out.

Recently, with my journal comics, I’ve been working on trying to find the balance of allowing myself to explore and express those feelings, to take a mini-vacation with them while I create, without allowing myself to be consumed by them.