Something I’ve given a fair bit of thought to this year is my relationship with creativity. A few years ago began what was one of the most difficult periods of my life, when several terrible events all crashed down at the same time. For the first time in my life, I found myself utterly speechless. I was in such a low place that I found writing and art to be almost insulting—nothing could possibly come close to expressing the fractures I was feeling in my bedrock. It was then that I realized how, for almost a decade, I used poetry and collaging as an outlet for my feelings of sadness, loneliness, or just as a tool to process any emotions.
In what became several years of this creative near-silence, I found myself completely at a loss for what had kept me creating. I‘ve felt frustrated and burnt out, mainly from work, but also from the pressure to make a name for myself as a creative, to prove myself worthy of being in those spaces, and to do something that would make me proud of myself. During my darker moments, I felt like I had not only shattered pieces of my life to make sense of but a crippled creative spark dragging behind me. I was mourning the loss of something that brought me joy and I relied on for new perspectives on the world. Only the scary, unknown, and impenetrable darkness before Creation was left behind.
My current reality is I’m very much still in this place: uncertain of my “why” or even how I can express my creativity now that it’s no longer bound to my pain. In some ways it’s felt like a leash snapping—the connection is broken and I am set free from using my creative pursuits as my homegrown therapy. But where I’m at now, drifting, collecting moments and memories, I often feel aimless and let down by myself, knowing all the goals and grand ideas I had for my creative pursuits.
That said, the more generous parts of myself know the truth: my creativity manifests in different ways these days.
It manifested in planning a wedding, creating a vision for flowers, venue, table placecards, playlists; styling myself head to toe; and investing in the small details to match my internal vision. The day ended up being even better than I could have dreamed.
In crafting a relaxing, cozy home that reflects the personalities of both me and my spouse.
In diving deep into videos about Christian fundamentalism, letting go of many elements of my faith and finding new bedrock to explore.
In traveling to the most beautiful places, including Panama, Hawaii, Cape Cod, Florida, and the place I think is most incredible: the North Shore of Boston where I call home.
In doing my best to support and love my friends and family wherever they’re at in life, and relishing the love and joy I find in them.
In enjoying countless movies (namely Studio Ghibli and Cartoon Saloon) and hours of vibing to my Piano playlist (Joe Hisaishi, Ludovico Einaudi, and Colm Mac Con Iomaire are my Real Ones).
In reading more books in 2023 than I’ve read in years.
In styling colorful and fun outfits that make me feel confident and like myself.
In accepting a new job for the first time in 8 years, adjusting to very different workplace culture, and managing new levels of insecurity and self-assurance.
In obsessively devouring videos about hammerhead sharks, Egyptian archeology, dinosaurs, spooky lakes, tectonic plates, outer space, the prison system, and infinite more…
My life is filled with creativity. It might not look like the way I wanted or hoped it would, but I’m slowly learning to see that as a good thing. In investing in new parts of myself, I’ve discovered new roads to go down that might someday result in expressions of creativity, or at least continue to untether me from the reasons I felt I needed to be creative before.
I know it sounds like I’m saying I’m giving up poetry or art, but what I’m really trying to say is when I look up at the stars I imagine God sitting in the darkness for eons before they created anything. Maybe they didn’t know where to start. Maybe they didn’t know who they were yet. Then somehow they found the spark.