Breakfast of champions
A few months ago on the advice of my doctor I began taking medication to alleviate some of the stress in my life. It’s been suggested for me for years, but while I don’t distrust doctors, I do have a certain mistrust for medication that affects my brain chemistry. After all, it can be argued that all we are is a complex series of neurochemical reactions. If we start adjusting those chemical balances we effectively lose our quasi-objective perspective, making it more difficult to state with any certainty the benefits or consequences of the changes.
So we are supposed to allow this fine-tuning of our psyches only under the supervision of a trained professional, someone with our best interests at heart who will keep the change from going in an undesired direction. But with the current state of the health care system this becomes a bigger act of faith than ever before. I have spent less than an hour face to face with my doctor during our entire relationship. Somehow, though, I am supposed to trust him not to allow me to slip into a bad place.
This is further complicated by my own quirks. My doctor is undoubtedly skilled in medicating people into a blissful state of happiness, reshaping me into a perfectly ordinary, middle-aged, middle-class white American consumer. Frankly, I would rather be stressed out and miserable and lose years from my life than to become that person. But with the start of this treatment I am forced to put myself into his hands, and hope he took my concerns to heart. I am not very good at this kind of trust.
Fortunately, I have friends who look out for me, and will let me know if I slip too far from my established character. There are unpleasant signs, already. It’s true that I have fewer heart palpitations, and I am more relaxed that usual. But I’ve also lost most of my drive for writing, or really creating of any sort. I spend my free time reading, or watching DVDs, or going out for drinks after work, but I just can’t find the energy or concentration needed to write, beyond what I must do to keep a roof over my cats’ heads. I have already been taken to task for allowing Hidden City to go so long without an update, and I have written literally dozens of drafts. Writing this essay is taking an enormous effort of will, and is actually pushing me toward a wholly irrational anxiety attack. But I will complete it before I get on the plane.
Yes, another plane. I am trying to break out of my routines by doing some more fiscally-irresponsible traveling, this time to New Orleans. I am going to meet some new people, and — with luck — to reset my internal calibration. I hope some new experiences and habit-smashing will let me forge some new and stress-free neural pathways, and maybe to reduce that handful of pills by a bit.
It’s just another act of faith.
{ 5 comments }
I’m familiar with the problem. I think I’ve told you about my own long battle with my brain’s chemistry.
And I know all about the drive or lack thereof. For me, the trick has proven to be just bullheadedly pushing past the disinclination, the lack of motivation or the heavy weight of inertia. Rather than letting my demons power my creativity, I have to source it from somewhere else. That’s hard. That’s really hard.
It’s worth it, though; at least I have found it such.
You might also consider making changes to your internal criteria for creativity, maybe placing lower demands for levels of perfection (which can, in themselves, discourage creativity — the demons say ‘Why put the energy into something that won’t be as perfect as you want?”). That’s your business, but I have found I get a lot more done if I worry about it less. The better I feel about it, the better the final product is, and the more of it I want to do. It’s setting up a better cycle.
Good luck, and hey, if your travel plans make room, you’re welcome to visit my little rural hole. There’s a beautiful botanical garden here that should be showing nicely in the fall.
If N’awlins can’t help bring back some creativity, then maybe you should reconsider the mix. Just remember, none of our brain chemistries work perfectly. It’s all a question of balance – and if you were having heart palpitations, then you were certainly out of balance. Cheers from Atlanta (vacation this week, business travel in less than a month). Terrible T also says, “Hi.”
Kevin, Glad to see a new post, and honestly when I was ragging on you about not posting I was just doing it out of fun and not trying to create any pressure. I have also been having a hard time with writing lately, although for different reasons. I know how it is to not “feel” it and if you dont “feel” it then to hell with it. Work on finding the joy and the creativity will come back.
*BIG HUGS*
Have fun in NoLa! I’ve always wanted to go there!
There is a time and a place for everything, buddy…This too shall pass.