I'd rather be alone than something I'm not
When people say they are too much in their heads and describe the narratives they have with themselves, I do recognise that on some level. But it is not the same for me. Thoughts jump front and centre, interesting ones and less interesting ones. And when I want to engage, the thought is gone before I can even complete it, because another one jumps on stage in rapid succession. But those thoughts are not really gone; they still hold space inside my head, making it feel too full. They create a chaos that cannot move or flow freely, like too many fish in too small a fish tank.
Sometimes it feels like static, white noise. And sometimes it feels like being on a stage; The lights in your face blinding you from seeing the people in the audience. You know they are there, you feel them, you’re aware of them, but you don’t see them.
Winter is coming, and I must say this period of the year in the Netherlands is my least favourite. I’ve noticed that I do much better in spring and summer. It feels easier then to let go of these thoughts, as if I become a bigger fish tank. Sure, I do have these moments of a “full head,” but I notice I’m more accepting that it is what it is. Ideas come and go, and when the weather is good, it feels much easier to go with it. Just jump on that surfboard and ride the wave. While now, I’m struggling even to recognise a wave, let alone get on the board.
Why is that? Is it only the lack of sunlight? I also feel the pressure to be productive. For WHOM, for god’s sake?! Why don’t I feel okay with the fact that it is perfectly alright to have a down season? I am my own boss; I should be okay with “doing nothing is doing something too.”
Instead, I want to work on my project. I want to prepare as much as possible. I want to learn and do more video. I want to grow as a person and as a photographer, and I want to reach out and grow my business. Is that it? Is it the fact that I feel responsible for my future business? Is it the urgency to become a professional photographer? Am I still not okay with the idea of finding a part‑time job that is not creative, even if it is just to support my household?
No. Apparently not. Because I know that is a pitfall for me. When I work, I want to do it to the best of my abilities, and that means there is a danger that I become too attached to the job. The job that was meant to support my creative work. The fear that, before I even realise it, I value my side job more than my creative work.
I don’t want that anymore. I need to create because it is who I am. It is how I process the world, my feelings, my thoughts. It fuels me and gives me energy. It makes me whole.
Oh, and then I hear in the back of my head all those people who repeat the same old condescending phrases: “Well, sometimes you need to do what you don’t like. I don’t like my work either,” or “You can do it as a hobby while finding a real job.” To them all; FUCK YOU! Get out of my head! You don’t understand me, you never have and never will. I know the world doesn’t work the way I want it to. Let me fight my own fight and find my way to hold on to myself while trying to navigate this weird world. I refuse to believe that I am here to suffer, make money to survive, and then die. If that is the case, then I have no purpose in this world, and it’s best to just stop living at all. That is not the story I want to tell. I don't want that to be my story.
So, what story do I want to tell? I want to tell my story of becoming. The woman who found her own way to navigate this wild world and has found her tribe. Her tribe of like‑minded people, who lift her up, who give constructive feedback, who let her just be who she is—without judgement, because all members of that tribe walk a similar path.
And sometimes that means that not all people I’ll meet or have met are contributing to that story. Even if they are close to me. I have to stop seeking their approval or valuing their opinion of me and my work too much. I know who I am deep down inside. I know what is best for me. And that is not always the conventional way.
That also means accepting loneliness. Not being seen, understood, or accepted in the way I truly am. But it is worth it. I would rather be lonely than mould myself into something I am not.
So, I don’t need to be productive 24/7, even if it is my own work. I am a chaotic person; my head often feels too full. My social battery is often depleted, and I cannot keep track of all the things I want or need to do. And that is okay—as long as I can keep in touch with myself. Just being me.
