This is more for creators, but please feel free to weigh-in if you have any feelings on this yourself: just like when you've stopped working out for a little while and it's hard (whether mentally or physically) to get back into that groove again, do you find it difficult to jump into your hustle after being away from it and/or finishing a grueling series (or more) of (overlapping) creations? This has always been a problem for me, especially when there are little odds and ends to get to (sometimes whole projects that have been put on the back-burner to prioritize more pressing creations). It's always been like this for me, overcoming the mental hurdle of knowing that - once I start something - I've made a promise to both myself and my audience to see it through: and that means possibly losing myself a little or worrying about allowing some important personal matters (other than the project) to fall to the wayside (mentally and actually). It's not like I don't love the process: who I am once I'm in the project. It's quite the opposite: It's purposeful and I find meaning in it. It's actually the other side of committing to something purposeful: missing the day-to-day, being-lost-in-the-moment that I simply love giving into (allowing yourself to do absolutely nothing, watch/binge a television show, or lose yourself to a video game) or - less spiritually - the mental shift in me that registers special moments that are unrelated to my passion as mundane, annoying, and/or obligatory (that I would normally, when not in hustle mode, register as special and important to both myself and others). That last one is the bigger bear because, of course, who doesn't relate to (the first thing of) just wanting to relax and self-care/medicate? The second thing is the one I think not many people (other than maybe creators) can understand and has plagued me from a very young age: losing the desire to care about anything other than the work. And I have really thought this through because the answer, to me, is the difference between being a hobbyist and an artist. Why I've had to really think this through is because, truly, I don't see myself as an artist. Maybe it's because I've placed too much esteem on the title or find myself unworthy of it, at present (given the lack of feedback/popularity/accolades). But isn't an artist someone who not only loses themselves to the craft but actually finds - not just satisfaction, but - fulfillment? It may appear as an (unhealthy?) obsession to most, but - to me - it's really a calling. It renders anything else meaningless, by comparison. I think that is the most difficult thing to convey to others because, to them, what could be more important than sharing key moments in their/our lives with one another? And the dark answer - that I keep to myself - is my work. I know that makes me (sound) selfish and I do feel bad about it. I feel so bad about it that I know it affects the level of commitment to my craft, too. I talk a big a game about doing my best to not be a people-pleaser and hinging my self-worth on the way others perceive me, but it's hard knowing that the people I seem to disappoint are the ones who are closest to me... the ones who want to share these moments in time that are important to both them, as individuals, and us, as friends/loved-ones. And it's moments like these where I can properly reflect on the importance of both these things - having not submerged myself into the grind just yet - where I have this clarity. It's why I maybe hesitate to jump into the love-affair meat-grinder that I enjoy so much because I do lose sight of it when I'm in the thick of it. I don't love disappointing those closest to me, but I love what I do so much. There's an emerging part of me that is quite resentful over how belittling it feels for others to perceive what I do as less-than. And I'm absolutely right to feel that way. I've learned to become more comfortable with the "hey man, go fuck yourself for saying/thinking that" over time. Other than the perception of others and my own deep feelings on the importance of my craft, I'm old/wise enough to know that losing oneself to their craft at the expense of other important life events is perilous: the things I feel, in the moment, as frivolous are - in reality- important to me. I even feel their importance once I've relented and give into them (as much as I struggle and squirm, internally, beforehand). That may be why I will never claim the title of artist, truly (because I will never fully give into the art), but it's also why it's hard getting on that horse again. All of these thoughts and feelings make it overwhelming, each and every time I'm here. It's isolating: both the feeling of being misunderstood and setting aside a part of me to achieve something purposeful. I'm putting all of this down on virtual paper in the hopes of finding others who feel the same way and can maybe even better articulate these feelings with their own, but also as an explanation to others of why I am the way I am... why, to you, I feel distant, sometimes. I hope this helps both of us.