I don’t know a single writer in fiction who doesn’t use their work to process their own shit, the same way I don’t know painters & musicians who don’t. And I know a whole helluva lot of them. Hundreds on a personal level, thousands on an acquaintanceship level, probably 10x that just by experiencing their art.
Which doesn’t mean that artists have to have lived pain to create art that speaks to people. All kinds of things create great art, that truly evokes emotions in others. But pain? Is a pretty durn common one. As is trauma. Whether a person develops PTSD from it, or not.
So it’s a very real “thing” in and of itself. Just by being human, and having even a half assed imagination, much less a good, or great one.
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Conversely? Similarly?
The stories we tell ourselves? Create our reality. Whether you’re an artist, or not. It doesn’t matter how amazing your parents are, if you cast them as villains. It doesn’t matter how terrible they are, if you cast them as benevolent gods. Ditto every other possible area of life. Friends, family, school, work, Tuesday, etc. The way we see ourselves and others? Is always in our own minds. Which doesn’t make it “not” real. It just means that perception is one of the most powerful forces out there.
It’s stupid common to imagine friends who rescued us, breaking down the doors and regulating, when in reality someone just banged on the wall and shouted to STFU… when we’re screaming for our lives. And 10,000 other variations.
You’re totally normal.