The problem with being attracted to artistic pursuits is that I feel the need to try them all. Like those much-desired holographic Pokemon cards, I feel a deep sense of restlessness and even disappointment in myself if I don’t collect every type of artistic skill in existence. And it’s exhausting.

So then I end up juggling my interests like an octopus waiting tables. I want to act in the theatre. I want to play piano and perfect that Beethoven sonata I like so much. I want to paint a watercolor masterpiece. I want to play the architect and refurbish my apartment. I want to color in my coloring book. I want to draw pencil portraits of grim-faced Victorians. I want to try new film strategies for my Vlog.

And my writing? Ha. Well. That’s just another pursuit I have. Of course, it’s at the tippy-top of the tier as far as importance, but do I dedicate the majority of time to it? No way.

So what’s a writer to do? Can I even call myself a “writer” if most of time I’m doing something else?

I guess a lot of people who have a passion in life struggle to find the balance. I just thought this year, 2017, would go a lot more smoothly. I had big plans, wanted to do great things.

And since the start of the year, I haven’t written a single poem, or gone much further in my novel. My mind is topsy-turvy with guilt, because if I can’t finish a writing project, then I’m not worth much. At least that’s what my anxiety tells me. My loved ones are so convinced I’ll be a great writer one day that I feel an immense pressure to prove them–and myself–right.

One of the problems I have is just saying “no”. Saying no to people I like, saying no to people I love, saying no to my cat… it’s so difficult. I feel guilty for asking for what I want. I feel guilty for wasting the time I allot for writing on some other ridiculous task, like probing the internet for a dream laptop that I absolutely cannot afford (Dell XPS 13 in Rose Gold, I will get you, one day).

Sometimes I imagine I’m a character on the Sims, going about my day fulfilling each desire so that they remain in the green. Eat, sleep, socialize. Build skills. Write a novel. I even make my Sims sit at a computer for 12 hours so that they finish a writing project on their computer and self-publish it the very same day.

If I’m so hardcore with fictional pixel-based people, why am I not with myself?

It’s a struggle I’ll always content with. It’s a battle I’ll always fight.

But if I can succeed, even in a small way, every bruise and drop of sweat will be worth it.