Rebellion: When the Creative Self Fights Back
Some days I can breathe in my creativity. I sit down, write, paint, make music, and feel deeply alive. And then there are days like today.
Days filled with organizational to-dos: emails, bills, appointments, social plans. Days that feel so over-structured I can hardly stand it.
On those days, I feel unbearably ‘fremdbestimmt’:
… as if I’m living on other people’s schedules, meeting obligations that might be good investments for relationships, but feel like another stone in the wall of my calendar.
There’s no room to breathe.
I feel like I’m only reacting … to obligations, expectations, structures. And my only solution, in moments like this, is to withdraw. To retreat into my own world, where I can finally be the sole ruler of my time.
Creativity needs focus. And when I’m constantly interrupted … by others, or by my own guilty conscience whispering, “you should be tackling your to-do list instead of painting or writing” … it feels almost impossible to sink into that creative state. The stream of demands never ends, and instead of flowing, I feel swallowed.
At home, alone, I can sometimes tune this out. But when I’m around others, it gets harder. Then, on top of my own guilt, I add relationship expectations. Am I giving enough attention? Am I being selfish?
And the truth is: I feel like I owe everyone my partner, my friends, even my dog, more than I can give.
And so, instead of creating, I spend my energy being the people-pleaser, the good partner, the responsible daughter. I give my time away. And at the end of the day, when I’ve created nothing, … no painting, no song, … the frustration is unbearable.
The Anger
That’s when the anger comes.
The sheer rage that my creative time, the one thing that makes life meaningful, was stolen from me. I find myself furious, almost ready to scream, because what I wanted most … to create! was pushed aside again.
Yes, sometimes life circumstances are exceptional. For example when we have family members in need of our support. But that doesn’t erase the feeling of being robbed.
And usually, this is where the entry point to the depressive cycle lies: bitterness, followed by resignation, leading into depression
… all guided by the quiet story that I’m just here to function, not to create.
That the needs of my deeply creative, expressive inner child, will always come last.
But today was different. Today, before the bitterness could swallow me,
… anger came first.
The Rebellion
This anger feels like rebellion.
It’s the voice of my creative self saying: “Enough. You’ve neglected me for too long. I will not disappear into numbness again!”
And for once, I see it for what it is: not destruction, but protection. A healthy aggression that refuses to let me collapse into resignation. A force that draws a boundary and says: this far, and no further.
My creative self is rebelling against being endlessly sacrificed to all my other roles: partner, daughter, dog caretaker, organizer, friend,… And I’m starting to believe that this rebellion is necessary.
Because without it, I’d keep letting my creativity be swallowed whole by daily life. Without it, I’d keep abandoning the part of me that makes everything else worth living.
Listening to the Signal
So I’m learning to listen. To see my anger not as an enemy, but as a signal.
Maybe you know this feeling too: the rage or frustration that bubbles up when your creativity is pushed aside by obligations. What if that feeling isn’t something to fight, but something to honor?
Maybe your creative self is fighting for its life.
And maybe the rebellion you feel inside is exactly what you need to protect your art, your voice, your freedom.
Working With the Anger
By the end of this day, I can see my anger differently. It’s not just destructive. It’s not blaming the people I love and the commitments I care for as the culprits of the situation. It’s a reminder that my creative self matters deeply to me
… so much so that when I neglect it, something inside rises up in protest.
That protest is uncomfortable, yes. But it’s also sacred. It’s a call back to myself.
Instead of numbing it or directing it against others, I can learn to channel it: onto the page, into paint, into sound.
To let it become fuel for expression rather than poison for my relationships.
So after a long day, I sat down, way too late in the evening (sorry biorhythm!), journaled and painted a watercolor of what I was feeling. Not as an exact representation of what was happening, but a visual attempt of giving that radiating anger inside of me, some kind of form.
And maybe this is something you can try too. Next time you feel the weight of obligations smothering your art, notice the frustration that builds. Notice the anger. Some questions you might like to contemplate on:
What is my inner creative self trying to protect right now?
What boundaries is it asking me to draw?
How can I turn this energy into expression instead of repression?
It doesn’t have to be grand. It can be a messy journal entry, a furious sketch, or even a silent inner scream. What matters isn’t perfection, but giving that inner rebellion a voice, a channel, a place to breathe.
Because when we learn to honor our anger, we also learn to honor our art.
And in that moment, the rebellion becomes not destruction, but creation.
