Creativity and mental health

 As someone who has struggled with mental illness for much of my life, I've learned that finding healthy ways to cope and manage my symptoms is crucial. For me, one of the most effective forms of self-care has been turning to art and music.

Experimenting with different mediums and styles has been a way for me to express myself and process my thoughts and emotions. Whether it's drawing, painting, writing songs, or playing an instrument, creating something from scratch has always had a therapeutic effect on me.

I've found that the process of creating something – whether it's a finished piece of art or a rough draft – can be incredibly cathartic. It allows me to channel my energy and focus on the present moment, rather than getting lost in my own negative thoughts.

In addition to the personal benefits, I've also found that sharing my art and music with others can be a powerful way to connect and find community. Whether it's through social media or live performances, sharing my creations with others has helped me to feel less alone in my struggles.

If you're someone who is struggling with mental health issues, I highly recommend giving art and music a try. You don't have to be an expert or have any particular talent – the important thing is to find something that brings you joy and helps you to feel more grounded. Who knows, it might just become your go-to form of self-care.

A very short story I wrote a few years ago

 I've been doing some rearranging of my possessions and stumbled across some forgotten notebooks filled with mostly unfinished work. Most of it is embarrassingly bad but I did find this short story. I genuinely can't remember if I ever planned on continuing the story or if it was always going to be this brief, but I do recall it was inspired by a writing prompt I saw on Facebook. 

It doesn't seem to have ever been given a title so I'll just call it Untitled Short Story circa 2018.

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The sun beat down on the dusty road as I trudged forward, my backpack heavy on my shoulders. Sweat dripped down my face and I longed for the cool relief of the river that flowed just out of sight. I had been walking for hours and my feet ached, but I knew I couldn't stop. I had to get to the next town before nightfall. As I walked, my thoughts turned to Maria. I could still see her face, her dark eyes filled with tears as I left. I knew I was breaking her heart by going, but I had to do it. I had to see the world, to feel the wind in my hair and the sun on my face. I had to know that there was more out there than the small village we had grown up in. Finally, as the sun began to sink below the horizon, I saw the glint of water in the distance. I quickened my pace, my thirst and fatigue forgotten. As I reached the river, I collapsed to my knees and plunged my face into the cool, clear water. It was the most refreshing thing I had ever tasted. As I sat there, drinking my fill, I knew that I had made the right decision. I had left everything I knew behind, but it was worth it for this moment of pure, unadulterated freedom. I knew that no matter what the future held, I would always carry this moment with me, a reminder of the endless possibilities that lay ahead.