The Creative Flow Disappeared…So I Wrote About it Anyway
The Blah Days
Right now, I feel…blah.
I usually only want to write when creativity is flowing through me - that effortless, inspired, almost magical state where the words spill out faster than I can type them.
But today isn’t one of those days.
Today, I feel stuck. Flat. Uninspired. And really, I’d rather do anything but write.
Honestly, I don’t really feel like doing anything. But definitely not writing.
But here I am. Because creativity isn’t always about feeling inspired.
Sometimes, it’s like going to the gym on a day you really don’t want to. You drag yourself there, dreading every second, but somewhere in the middle, you find a rhythm. And by the end, you’re so glad you showed up.
(It’s actually been a while since I’ve been to the gym, but I’m sure the point still stands.)
Do I Push Through or Sit With It?
Lately, I’ve been stressed. I’ve been sleeping terribly. And I miss that creative flow - the kind where everything feels effortless.
And when something feels gone, it’s hard to believe it will ever come back. And that makes it worse.
I start spiraling (as I normally do when I’m stressed): Is this a block? What if the creativity never returns?
And here’s where I get stuck:
Do I push myself out of this feeling and “fake it till I make it”?
Or do I let myself sit in the blah and just… feel it?
It’s hard. I believe in feeling your feelings. (My husband loves it when I tell him this.) But right now, I really don’t want to feel blah. I want to feel inspired.
(Btw… I totally think they should add the feeling “blah” to the feelings wheel... I checked, and it’s not there.)
Why This Feels So Uncomfortable
I’ve always been someone who goes deep. I don’t do small talk - it’s just not who I am.
A boyfriend once told me, “Everything doesn’t have to be so serious, Riley.” He thought it was exhausting that I always wanted to dive into life’s big questions instead of just chatting about the weather.
(Come on…does anyone really want to talk about the weather?)
But that’s me. I’m a deep thinker, a deep feeler, and I love deep conversations.
Like recently, at a party, I met someone - a girl I'd known for about five minutes - and within moments, I was asking her about her relationship, her break from her boyfriend, and how she was really feeling.
Thankfully, I think she was slightly tipsy and didn’t mind this complete stranger diving into her inner depths.
But this is just me.
I don’t tiptoe around the surface. I dive straight into the ocean.
And I think that’s why this feeling - this blahness - is so uncomfortable. It feels like… small talk with myself. Shallow. Empty. I don’t want to swim here. I want depth. I want flow.
The Romanticized Struggle
And this whole thing reminds me of something I used to do when I was drinking.
I used to romanticize the tortured artist - the ones who found their inspiration in the depths of struggle. Think Edgar Allen Poe. The brooding poet, drowning his pain in whiskey, writing his best work in the haze of heartbreak.
And I wanted that.
I would sit at bars by myself, drink in one hand, journal in the other, convinced that my best writing would come from this place. The dim lights, the quiet hum of conversations around me - it felt poetic.
Although writing this now makes me realize, no, that actually sounds quite…pathetic.
But at the time, I thought I was more inspired, more creative, more in touch with myself when I was struggling.
But when I look back, I wasn’t actually writing my best work. It actually just was some stream of consciousness gobbledegook.
I was just waiting - waiting for inspiration, waiting for some perfect mix of emotions to hit me.
I thought creativity had to come to me, not from me.
Now, here I am, years later, fully sober and sitting in the discomfort of feeling uninspired. And maybe the lesson isn’t in the inspiration at all.
Maybe it’s in the showing up.
The Wisdom in Sitting With It
As I sit here - writing anyway - I realize something:
I’ve spent my whole life trying to push past feelings like this.
If I wasn’t inspired, I’d chase inspiration. If I felt uncomfortable, I’d try to fix it. If I wasn’t in flow, I’d convince myself something was wrong.
But maybe this feeling isn’t a problem. Maybe it’s an invitation.
It reminds me of one of my favorite poems by Rumi - one that I come back to over and over again whenever I’m experiencing feelings that aren’t my favorite. If you’re a friend, I’ve probably sent it to you if you’ve been going through a hard time, but alas, here it is:
The Guest House
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.
Be grateful for whatever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
I love that poem because it reminds me that every feeling belongs - even the ones I want to rush through. Even the blah.
I came here wanting to push past this feeling. But now I wonder: What if the blah isn’t a block - what if it’s part of the process?
Maybe this is creativity.
The Lesson in Showing Up
I think this is what I’m learning:
Creativity isn’t something I have to chase - it’s something I meet by being here.
The blah days aren’t interruptions to creativity - they’re part of it.
And the flow I miss? It’s not gone. It’s just waiting for me on the other side of showing up.
So, If You’re Feeling Stuck…
So, if you’re feeling stuck, too - whether it’s in your writing, your work, or your life - maybe don’t wait for inspiration to strike.
Try meeting it here, in the blah.
Who knows?
It might be clearing you out for some new delight.
