Creative Frustrations

Architects, Gardeners, and the Struggle to Create

Frustration has been killing me lately. I’ve been struggling creatively. And I didn’t want to accept that perhaps some rest was needed. I also didn’t want to take imperfect action, so I chose to stay angry instead.

“Are you okay?” My partner Peter asks, his voice soft and cautious, afraid of making things worse.
“No, I’m not.” I keep it short because short has a dramatic effect.
“Can I help you somehow?” He tries again.
“No, you can’t.” I just want to sit in my victimhood. I don’t say it out loud, but that’s what I mean.

I’m angry. I haven’t slept for five days. I’m exhausted. And I haven’t been able to write anything. Because you can’t think when you are that tired. And then, my body succumbs. I get sick.

“You are not sick-sick, it’s just the flu,” Peter says.
“What do you mean, just the flu?”
It’s better if he stays quiet for his own sake.