The wise Nora Ephron once said everything is copy. Life, and often times the hard parts of life, can give us a spark of inspiration. For Nora Ephron it certainly seemed to be true, she transformed her divorce into a work of fiction in her book Heartburn.
As I’ve been navigating this break-up, I’ve also been harboring this odd guilt. Why am I not compelled to write more? Why am I not using this pain as content? Okay sure, I’ve written about the break-up a little bit here. And the night of the break up I couldn’t stop frantically typing words into my Notes app on my iPhone. I wandered around Union Square not knowing what the fuck to do with myself, but I just kept writing the thoughts overflowing in my overwhelmed brain.
As a theater major in college, I struggled a lot to call myself an artist. The identity never felt fitting. I didn’t study theater because I felt like a tortured artist. I majored in theater because I fell in love with big, flashy, broadway musicals. Because listening to my favorite musicals on repeat made me feel less tortured if anything.
When I got to college I felt way out of my league. I was surrounded by people who relished to declare I. Am. An. Artist.
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In one assignment freshman year of college, I was literally asked to turn pain from my life into theater. The assignment was to perform a monologue about a pivotal moment in our life. Trying to find a pivotal at age 18 felt nearly impossible. Sure I had experienced some heartbreak, disappointment, and rejection by that point in life. But a pivotal moment? I couldn’t think of one. I can’t even tell you the moment I decided to major in theater. It just felt like such a given for most of my life.
The students with the most “succesful” monologues told the story of their beloved grandma died. Or a horrifying, embarrassing moment they still think about.
Looking back now, I am suddenly realizing, Holy shit! My teacher basically wanted me to dig up some deep-rooted trauma from my life. That’s fucked up!
In college halfway through every semester, we met one-on-one with each of our teachers to discuss our progress. This teacher, in particular, mentioned I struggled with vulnerability. I am sorry I didn’t have a particularly interesting, traumatic, pivotal moment in my life to share…
But now, here it is! A pivotal moment! Breaking up with my boyfriend of 8 years at age 29. Because he wants kids. And I don’t.
This is the fuel creative-types dream of! So. much. emotional turmoil to unpack. There’s gotta be a novel, a memoir, a one-woman show lurking in the darkness. If I learned anything from theater school (and Nora Ephron) it would certainly be that.
But yet I feel so not creative these days. I feel tired. And then I feel guilty about feeling tired. And guilty about not using this pain as creative fuel to write write write. It becomes this vicious guilt cycle.
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There is a part of me that is craving a new creative project to tackle. That spark of excitement, not unlike the beginning of a new relationship or developing a new crush. The thing is, I don’t know what that new creative project is. A podcast? A different blog? Launching a new business endeavor? And hello, Kayla, you have a creative outlet. It’s called this blog.
Just like all aspects of this doozy of a break-up I am doing my best to lead with kindness + compassion towards myself. It’s okay to not feel 100% okay. And I keep reminding myself that it’s okay to not feel creatively charged by this. And it’s also totes cool if that’s how some people do feel when they’re going through something similar 💗
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