Circles

      My mind runs in circles, picking up the nearest toy, and then throwing it away as I walk to the next one. Constantly moving, distracting, focusing on anything external. I used to think I was depressed, losing interest in everything so quickly. Truthfully, I just get bored with things. I try to slow it down, to tell myself that I could be so much better at things if I would just stick with it for more than a month or two.

           How much money have I wasted by becoming so sickeningly obsessed with something? Buy all the supplies you can; you love what you are doing! Maybe if you had the right tools you could keep going. No one wants to work with no supplies. You are never going to keep with it if you do not completely immerse yourself. I give myself this speech every time I pick up a new hobby. It does not stop me from becoming bored with it; it just adds a thick layer of guilt to my disappointment when I walk away.

           It started with reading. I read for hours every day as a child. I know, everyone reads less as they get older. Truthfully, reading stuck with me the longest, and it never really went away. The avidness with which I read fades and comes back, like I am on the verge of drowning, but keep managing to get my head above water for a brief second. I will fall back in love with it one day, order $150 worth of books, and it will take me eight months to read them because by the time they get delivered, I have lost interest again. The next “on” phase I have will consist of me binge reading all the books I ordered during the last phase over three to four days and burning myself out again.

Then came the earring making. I decided I was going to design my own earrings and bows and sell them at the local flea market. I ordered fifteen pounds of tiny metal earrings in various shapes (butterflies, hearts, flowers, etc.). I went to my local craft store and bought acrylic paint, brushes, little glue-on gems, ribbon, clothes pins, and tiny bows. I decorated maybe three pairs of earrings and two bows before throwing everything into a box and giving it to my mom. This is one of the few hobbies I never came back around to. The positive side of this one is my mom used almost all of the supplies I gave her, sold all of what she made, and gave me my money back for the supplies. The only thing I wasted on this particular project was time.

           Next came drawing. I decided I wanted to create beautiful pictures that people would not only love but love so much they would pay me for it. I set up an Instagram profile solely for my commissions I would (hopefully) see coming in soon. The problem is, I tried to replicate a few simple drawings, and immediately became frustrated when I could not pull of all this amazing fanart that I had in my head. It followed the same pattern as reading, just less intense. People kept buying me art supplies for Christmas, and when the day was done, I would cry. What was I going to do with all of that stuff? I could not even draw a good flower! I decided to try again. I could not let all of those beautiful supplies go to waste, and maybe having higher end supplies would make my art better. When I did not immediately become Picasso with my new pencils and pastels, I left drawing behind again. I still sketch occasionally, but it is only for me to design characters in my writing. Speaking of which…

           Writing has been my most damaging cycle, mentally. I love writing, even more so than I love to read. I was a brilliant writer when I was in middle/high school. I was a star on my creative writing club. I was the editor for the school newspaper. I know I am good at it. When I get bored or burned out or blocked, I quit. I do not touch my work again for weeks, sometimes months. My longest hiatus was three years and two months. This cycle… this one makes me hate myself. I know I am well, or at least adequate, but I still give up. I am a quitter. Stupid. Lazy. Just pick up a pencil. Open a word doc. Look at the notes for your last novel. Oh, right, you threw them away when you went into a fit last time. Quit being a child and get it done! Berating myself really does not help me feel motivated to write, but what can I do? It is not liked the voice is wrong. Harsh, sure, but not inaccurate.

           I am currently doing embroidery. I bought three embroidery starter kits. They come with the hoop, cloth with design print on it (sort of like a stencil), a couple of needles, and sixteen colors of embroidery floss. I am about halfway through my first piece, and I am trying to only work on it occasionally. Maybe if I keep it casual, I will not get bored or burn myself out. The problem is, I am already getting distracted from it. I went on Reddit to look at hints/tips/tricks for new embroiderers and saw something called cross stitch. I fell in love immediately. I have already ordered a cross stitch beginners’ kit. I am making myself wait until I finish my current work in progress to start the cross stitch. I am hoping this helps.

I am fighting to slow my brain down. I am fighting to keep myself in one spot. Have you ever been so nervous or tense that you felt like you had to bounce your leg to keep yourself from exploding? I am trying not to explode while also not bouncing my leg. I am trying to make myself hold on to the things that make me happy.

Why am I having to fight to be happy?