Updated: Nov 13, 2018
Every person is creative and using your creativity is a necessity, whether you believe it or not. You are creative everyday even if it's through regular tasks like cooking dinner or folding laundry. Yes, folding. Ever heard of origami? Yeah, you fold that t-shirt into a crane girl. I dare you. That being said, if you allow yourself to take time to be creative, then things can really start to happen.
A little background on me: ever since I was a small child creative expression has always been my outlet, or my go-to, if you will. I have never believed myself to be much of a fine artist, who would focus and master one thing at a time, but more of a jack of all trades, too bored too quickly with the same media or subject matter day in and day out (and a rampant obsession to own every type of art making material, surface, tool, media and accessory human beings have come up with...thank you Blick Art Supplies). I graduated from Tyler School of Art at Temple University (hoot, hoot!) with an art education degree, but, for a variety of reasons, that career didn't exactly pan out for me. I spent the years after college working in museums, galleries, pottery paint shops...even a very successful auction house, as well as launching my own online store to sell my work and teaching children's classes here and there. I've always felt a little bit like a failure for not securing that art teacher career my parents wanted so badly, but now, I'm thankful for the incredible opportunities I've had in the art world because it has given me quite a well-rounded experience, as well as realistic expectations of what I can do with my art and my abilities.
I've also never been very good at the whole, "self-care" thing and it's only gotten worse since having my first child. Like so many other women, I suffered from postpartum depression after giving birth to our daughter (one of two of the best DIYs of my whole life). This time period triggered a lot of fear, worry and stress that I, unknowingly, lived with for years prior to childbirth, and now having a tiny human to care for, the symptoms went through the roof. My husband helped as he could, but as the primary breadwinner, his sleep meant more than mine, and let me tell, you, I DO NOT handle sleep deprivation well. 20 months later I had our second child and went through PPD again, and I believe at this point my brain logged away the cavernous feeling of loneliness and isolation during those long newborn nights just for the fun of flashing them to me over and over again for the next few years in the form of random anxiety attacks. My son is now almost four years old, and I have only recently started to manage my anxiousness. You'll never guess what did it...I'll give you a hint: it involves practicing self-care. Go figure!