on slow days and taking breaks

It’s been weeks and I’ve been trying my best to write this feeling down in words but I fail each time, if only more miserably than the previous time. I’m torn between taking a break and forcing myself to work. But it’s not easy.

If I take a break, I spend days and weeks consuming art when I should be working on mine and the guilt eats me up because it takes me time to return to my work after watching a show or reading a good book. If I don’t take a break and force myself to work, I waste my days neither consuming any art nor creating any.

Is there such a thing as a work-life balance that people actually achieve in reality? If they do, then I’m a stranger to the concept and would love some tips.

I can’t remember the last time I didn’t hate myself for taking a break and not working. Even if I’m not working, I want to do something with my time. I want to utilize that free time to read, draw, journal, try that new skincare product I bought months ago, learn a new hobby, go out and have fun, or travel somewhere, and do everything I couldn’t do while working.
But is it even a break if I’m not resting?

I keep seeing people talk about their progress on the internet and I wonder if I’m not pushing myself enough, if maybe I’m just not good enough.

After the year I’ve had, my peaceful state of mind and lack of words should be justifiable. In reality, it only makes me mad. Out of six, I’ve spent two months actually writing and four months crying about not writing.

I keep reminding myself that not everybody lives the same life. I shouldn’t compare myself to them. Yet I do. I watch others and doubt myself. Why can’t I write a thousand words like them in a day? Why do I keep taking these breaks? Why are they never exhausted? They have got their jobs and lives too. What do I lack?

Even though I’ve had days when I’m writing five thousand words easily, on bad days all I can think about are the days when getting even five words out of my tight grip is like a death sentence.

All I’ve got in my palms are questions which go unanswered. All I can do to deal with those questions is write.

But on some days, no matter what you do, your voice will turn against you, your art won’t listen to you and you’ll feel anger flowing in your blood, you will feel helpless from the pit of your stomach, your sad heart will sit with its knees folded over the pool of your tears, your eyes will stare blankly at your walls and the unfinished manuscripts that you promised to finish this year and your empty journals that beg you to decorate them but you’ll be too tired to get up and move your hands.

Some might call you lazy and choose to be unkind to you but don’t forget it’s your job to be kind to yourself before anyone else does the same.

Taking a break may look like being lazy, procrastinating, or being a coward for letting lethargy win but a break is eminent to the betterment of your soul, art, and heart. You can’t create if you’re not feeling like you’re giving your best. If you hate your art or the act of creating it, then it’s going to backfire. It’s your time, your sign to take a step back and relax.

Don’t complain that nobody is being kind to you when you yourself haven’t been kind to yourself in the first place. If you know you should take some time off work, then you should listen to your inner voice and take a break to enjoy other forms of art and creation.

On days like these, I watch the phone screen light up with the caller ID displaying on it. I’ll tell myself and others that I missed the call but my screen time will prove otherwise. I like to go into hiding, too mentally exhausted to respond to any texts or pick up the calls that go unanswered for the third time in a day. It bothers people but it is what it is.

Usually I turn to writing when the blues hijack my sunny skies but sometimes it gets so worse that I can taste my tongue dry and naked without all those words I always feel sitting there, waiting to pour on the sheets.

I could either cry it out or write it down if I had something to say but there’s nothing left.

There was a time when I was still studying so I could lie to myself and say that it’s for the better. Not writing enough or not writing at all means I’m feeling better, I’m healing. I’m getting better. I turn to words when my life is bad. Not writing means my life is better. It’s good.

But not anymore.

Now, I’m a full time writer who needs words more than air.

This year has been mentally draining and I have written a lot of poems. Now, I don’t have any words left. I know my words will come back as will more pain in my life. I know I will turn to words again when it gets bad. I know that by the time I learn not to beat myself up and just enjoy this time off work, my words would be barging in without a knock or a letter to announce their arrival.

Yet I hate myself for not writing.

I used to enjoy writing. I still do. I just don’t enjoy the days when I’m not doing it. I miss it and I crave it. I love writing. It’s my savior.

I know I write when it gets bad and not writing is a good sign but how can I see it as a good sign when writing is all I’ve ever known? I miss my words so much. I miss them and I want them back, even though I know it shows it’s getting bad again. I still want them.

God, I don’t know what I’m trying to achieve here. I just miss my words. I want them back.

I don’t know when they’ll return.

I hope they are doing fine.

I’m not doing fine without them.

I sound like a mad artist but I really need my words.

I hope they come soon.