The creative crevice conundrum
- Lauren Rebekah Jones
- May 25
- 3 min read
“The last time you found yourself in a hole, how did you claw your way out?”
I asked myself this very question today. I’ve been in my fair share of “holes.” Production holes… and depression holes, too.
Depression isn’t exactly known for sneak attacks. It creeps up, slowly. Then it matches your pace, just on the other side of the wall as you both walk down parallel hallways that will inevitably converge. Then bam. Right in the schnozzer.
Thankfully, I haven’t fallen completely in the hole this time. It’s more like I was walking with purpose in a clear direction and then WHAM my leg got swallowed by a trick stair or a divet in the ground that was camouflaged. It’s like I’m Elmer Fudd and Bugs Bunny got me again.
What has been made extra apparent though, is this: I am dealing with a very specific type of depression with a clear catalyst, and it plays out as follows:
I throw myself into a huge work project
The project ends (usually with thunderous applause and a standing ovation)
But my energy is depleted and it takes a while to get my mojo back
Then I get frustrated I’m not creating for me
The lack of energy and creative fulfillment basically chews up my brain and spits it back out a month or so later.
So…. what’s up, doc?
Today, I deeply considered the process of “getting out of the hole” and realized a couple of things. What stands out isn’t the how. Or even the when. It’s that I only realize I’m out of it after it’s already happened.
Alternatively, sometimes the process of working through it is really something else entirely. It can look like intentional, forced efforts that lead the way back to being human. Like making yourself shower, eat, clean, etc.
But more often than not, it looks like this: All of a sudden I realize I’m no longer in that place. I’m not exactly sure when or how it happened, but it did.
It’s quite literally soul-crushing to be a creator who is always creating things that don’t feed your soul or fuel your passion. And while my personal projects are gaining some movement (slowly, but surely), impatience is an ugly monster — and one that only causes more angst.
The silver lining? The fact that I have identified this sad little pattern of mine gives me the leg-up next time. I can brace myself for the crash, and — more importantly — give myself all the extra TLC while in post-production, knowing that in a few weeks I will likely be binge-eating Ben & Jerry’s in my pajamas. And it’s ok.
Go with the flow. Literally.
Here's the most important thing: I’m not even going to waste my time or energy trying to prevent it from happening. I’m starting to finally embrace that all the highs and lows are inevitable. I'm going to go into a production hole again (and soon). I'm going to succeed. I'm going to crash after. Then, I'll pick myself right back up.
That’s the thing about patterns. The only way to break them is to go through them. Sitting with the discomfort. Forcing yourself to work through all the layers. And sometimes, the point isn’t even to break the damn thing.
It’s to become familiar with the “ouch” factor, and not shy away from it. That way, when it creeps back in, you can say, “Ah. This again. I’ve been here before. And I did find my way out.”
The work will come and go. The personal projects will, too. The highs will become lows. The lows will transform back into highs. So, when the rip tide flows back around... this time, I'm wearing my swimmies.
Steady-as-we-go. All the way through it... and back.
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