Old news, but I have bad anxiety, and it affects me quite deeply. But it isn’t me.
If you can’t tell, the second drawing is not much more than scribbles. I don’t have much depth perception. I don’t have good control over my hands. Granted, I drew the second in 1 hour and the first in 8 hours, but is what drawing without anxiety looks like in 2 hrs; I’ve only drawn a small more detailed portion rather than rushing to finish an entire piece. Two different people might as well have drawn these two drawings.
It’s even worse with writing; I lose sense of sentence structure and grammar and write as far from my conscious as I can get; ie, I write in colloquial language that has no art. I hold the choice to be with or without anxiety by being adequately prepared (sleep, food, company, habits) but living with anxiety for so long means thinking without anxiety is hard. It’s a choice but it often doesn’t feel that way. I’ve allowed myself to cope with inadequate mechanisms so long I consider them the obvious step. Another thing is that creating something is an escape mechanism itself, except it’s a positive one when disciplined. No. It’s expression in its freest form.
It’s surprising I finished a drawing in a day but I’ve got lots of things to run and hide from, such a potential failure in university. I’ve got 3 weeks left to finish outstanding work in 3 courses; an innumerable amount of books to read and essays to write; 21 days. Sounds impossible? No. Sounds hard? No way. I love English. I love the fine arts. It would be a privilege to immerse myself in it for 3 weeks straight and emerge transformed. I can do this. I will do this.