The internet is full of self-professed “creatives” complaining about a lack of motivation. Bloggers, singers, writers and YouTubers all want to put in their two cents about why they have been “under-active.” To me, this just seems like wallowing, using your lack of ideas as a idea without actually getting closer to breaking your block. However, no doubt you’ve all noticed the dichotomy of this paragraph and the title of this post.
I took a break from writing, and almost everything creative, for about two months. There are a number of reasons for this; my university exams were on, I was having a falling out with my previous housemates, I was moving house, I was badgering my last landlord for my deposit and a number of other, smaller things that don’t require listing. However, I am returned and have a few things to say.
Upon moving into my new house in July I went straight into some of the best weeks of my life. It felt, and feels, like anything that does go wrong is trivial and nothing outside my house and the friends therein really matters. However, with this it seems a side effect has come. When I am unhappy I feel like the most miserable being alive and, frankly, don’t want to live. That dark and lonely hole; sadness, only seems deepened by my joy. My mind wanders to dark places but it’s never been this bad before.It’s frustrating, more than anything, because there is so much good in my life right now.
I think if you hate your day job (maths at uni for me) then, regardless of how much fun the rest of your life is, you are going to end up unhappy. If every day you get up and have to shoehorn yourself into doing something you don’t want to do then you’re just going to end up hating being awake. It’s so easy to let yourself slip into melancholy and it’s not worth it.
Ironically I’ve had a lot of motivation specifically for maths. I’ve been storing it in my “Fuck it, let’s do it!” box for some time now, and it probably won’t see the light of day until I have exams again, but it’s there. There was a point during my exams where I was certain that I would fail. I expected at least one resit, which translates as being failure if you’re from my neck of the woods, with potentially another two in tow, but none cropped up whatsoever. I ended my year with a 2:2 which I was very pleased with, not least of all because I expected to be kicked out of uni for not meeting the grades. My grades reinforced to me that, while I’m not great at every area of maths, I have what it takes to do university. I’ve proven that first and seconds year were within my capacity, all that remains now is to do the same with my finals.
Let’s do it!