I wanted to build upon my last post about the dangers of going overboard with labels by exploring lazy diagnoses. Like a cowboy with his hands drawn by his holsters, ready for some fast hip shooting, society seems equally prone to slap medical labels on everything.
Labels are popular because we like to belong. But aside the cuddly feeling of being a member of something, our penchant for slapping a label on everything takes a toll on our humanity, on our ability to empathize with others.
Artists draw their inspiration from their connection to the world. Things like “writer’s block” and other labels for being stuck are no surprise when we’ve gotten too comfortable. Too walled off or callous. Life has a way of slapping the smirk off our faces at strange times.
Staying up late to get things done costs more than we think — benefits quickly offset by surprising drawbacks borne from things we tell ourselves.
…the fact that I’ve fallen woefully out of balance with the artistic side of myself has recently been suffocating. Like many things, a discomfort we’ve gotten used to becomes invisible until it chokes the life out of us.