Grieving the loss of my inner world

I cannot be creative in the same way as before my illness turned severe. While I have found ways to be creative without using too much brainpower, I grieve the loss of my inner world.

When I was at my worst from 2019 to 2020, I couldn’t close my eyes, because if I did I would be inundated by flashing lights and broken random images (like pink elephants in tutus) zooming in and out of consciousness. It was painful to close my eyes and in order to sleep I would lie awake until my eyes closed on their own. This didn’t always happen.

Photo by David Clode on Unsplash

Without access to my mind I felt I had been cut off from my intuition and my soul or higher self. My intuition speaks to me in images, sensations and quiet voices, but my brain had turned into one big noisy rave. This was an eerie feeling, like I was just a piece of meat with simple thoughts. I felt cut off from the world, and especially from myself. 

I was (and still am) seeing an ME specialist and he put me on new medication. It helped. I could close my eyes without the noisy rave turning on and I could begin to see images again. 

But something had changed. I don’t know if it is because of the lack of energy in my body, but I can only (barely) create images on demand, which means I’m cut off from my usual creative process. 

A lot of the lyrics for my upcoming album were written by closing my eyes and simply looking at the pictures my mind was creating or noticing what images my mind was producing throughout the day. I’ve seen witches being burned at the stake, eagles flying over St Petersburg, worms eating clowns, empty shoes beneath windows, and swimming into murky caves looking for rainbows. 

I’ve started writing songs again, but I’m finding that something is missing. I don’t get as many mental images as I used to. I’m trying to be ok with that and I tell myself that I am in a different phase of creating — it’s neither better or worse. But it is an odd (empty even) sensation being creative without that extra faculty. 

I also don’t feel emotions like I used to — they are there, but they don’t fully form. There is simply not enough energy in my body in order to produce these wonderful things and I can’t cry out loud because it makes me sick and I crash. I feel a sense of emptiness inside, not from repressed emotions, but because my body can’t produce them. I always have a sense that something important is missing, like walking outside without underwear on. 

I grieve this part of me. I have always had a vivid and lively inner world (I’m an INFJ afterall), but it has become gray and misty. 

Right now I’m in the process of trying out new medication. I hope it works and that I’ll get more internal images back.

In the meantime, I practice doing word dumps, where I take one text (a poem, an article or something like that) and find one word that stands out. I then go on to another text and find another word and so on. Eventually, I have enough words that mean a lot to me on the page and I can begin to put them together and find new words to fit and I eventually have the lyrics for a song. This doesn’t require too much brainpower.

The most recent song that I wrote starts out like this:

“Tiger-striped fish in my dreams last night / I am a storyless tale”

And goes on to talk about “haunted goals and dreams” and how I’m “scared of taking my last breath alone” (I won’t divulge the hook/chorus). 

While it is possible to find creative ways to bypass lack of energy and brainpower, I do miss my old and more chaotic ways of creating where I could sit in flow for a longer period of time. Now, I have to chop everything up into five minute increments on good days. It’s doable (and slow as a dead snail), but not as satisfying. 

It was only when I let go of the capitalist idea that we are what we produce and that our creativity is valued by our quantity of output that I was able to find value in my tiny creative acts and still see myself as an artist even though I’m not as prolific as my able bodied peers. One of the key lessons I have learnt from feminism is the innate value of inclusion and diversity and the importance to the world of a wide range of perspectives and ideas that challenge dominant narratives and oppressive power structures. In other words, I learnt that my tiny voice matters.

Over to you…

What creative projects (big or small or even tiny) are you working on right now?

How do you work around your physical or mental limitations to stay creative?

What’s your favourite creative exercise you want to share with the rest of us?