RE: The Urge to Delete Everything
This urge comes at the worst, and best, times. Doesn’t it? Right on time. At the end/beginning of each and every year. *sigh*
Have you ever felt the urge to delete everything you’ve ever written or created in one fell swoop, in an attempt to ‘start over again’ or ‘save face’? (Is there a German word for this? I feel like the Germans should have at least one good word to describe this sentiment for some reason. Or maybe the French do? If so, let me know.)
For example, last night, if I were living in the 1800s, I would have collected all my frayed journals and loose papers and manuscripts and thrown them directly into the all-consuming fire, if I had a fireplace, without a second thought. And I don’t think I would have regretted it either… until this morning anyway. In fact, I would have celebrated such destruction.
“Burn it all! Good riddance! Nevermore!” I would have chanted, brandy in hand, staring at the flames as they cast my shadow, as years of hard work transformed into ash. (Because in this imagining, I would have been a wealthy, male, aristocrat with a library, I suppose?)
There is, however, no ‘delete all forever’ button in this segment of the twenty-first century, or any other digital equivalent to the all-consuming yet controlled fire mentioned above. At least not one we can all access within seconds anyway. (Luckily?)
I think I heard or read somewhere that nothing you share on the internet can ever be fully and truly erased forever. But even if that’s not entirely true, I have shared too much content across too many platforms over the past several years, making it impossible to erase or evade its permanence or shareability (regurgitability?), even if I can’t erase it all in one fell swoop.
So, where does this knowledge and annihilatory flight of fancy leave me, besides in a temporary state of deep reflection?
Am I simply to accept that there is no such thing as ‘starting over’ as a writer in the twenty-first century then, and that I can’t truly annihilate anything, let alone everything, I’ve written and created? Or do I attempt to grapple with this urge to annihilate anything, possibly everything, I’ve ever written and created?
I mean, why would I want to destroy everything I’ve ever written or created in one fell swoop anyway? What could possibly drive such an urge? Perfectionism? Shame? Humility? Boredom? Self-sabotage? Emptiness? Loneliness? Anxiety? Over-stimulation? Over-exposure? Independence? Exhaustion? Apathy? Confusion? Ennui?
Maybe it’s a mixture of all those things.
Maybe it’s none of those things.
Maybe this urge to destroy everything I’ve ever written or created is connected to the thanatos drive, the ‘death drive’, a concept introduced and popularized by Sigmund Freud— the drive toward death, self-destruction, and aggression. Though following this line of inquiry seems too abstract and bleak for such a cheery time of year, doesn’t it?
So, what is it then, this urge to delete everything? Is it an intuitive or subconscious impulse to start over and enjoy new beginnings, or is it an indication that everything is going well with my creative process after all?
What do you think? Have you ever experienced this before?
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