UNINSPIRED AF

Anyone else in a drought creatively? Am I all alone on my muse-less island? I felt a sinking sensation as the fall season hit. Fall felt a little delayed with all the energy around Lou’s luau themed birthday party reaching its climactic peak at the end of September. Then, about a week into my return-to-work, the post-luau-lull hit. I became consumed with re-learning how to do my career, and even more consumed with just being “mom” every second I wasn’t teaching. Plus, being tethered to a computer for 6+ hours a day (not including prep or marking, ya feel me teacher friends?) doesn’t exactly incite a spark inside oneself to sit back down at the computer and blog. My mind was mush by 3:30pm. I felt like what was left of my creative juices was the equivalent to the liquid left in a towel after being repeatedly rung out. I sat down at my computer a couple times, clicked my pen a few thousand times and started a few lacklustre sentences, but always ended up walking away from a blank page.

It sucked. Being new to the blogging world, this feeling felt like a major failure. I don’t want to force anything. I know I have to set goals to be successful, but I struggle with being disingenuous. I felt like I didn’t have anything to say then I didn’t have anything to blog.

So I walked away from it for a bit. Life got busy, and stressful, and I felt a sliver of depression set in. The thought of another winter with no travel was daunting. I became frustrated with how limited I was at doing my job well, the way I know how. I absolutely hate being away from Lou, even though she’s in the very best hands with my parents. Nevertheless a little bout of sleep regression had my mom-guilt soaring. My blog, my career, my parenting were all a major WTF. I became irritable, negative, disengaging... all the personality traits that I don’t wear well (does anyone?). 

Randomly one night I decided to have a bath before bed. I don’t bath often but when I do I always question why I don’t? They’re just so healthy; a full body Enya experience, if you will. I haven’t treated myself to a bath since my nightly sitz soaks while nursing my postpartum vagina back to life, so I decided it was time. The night was young, I had to wash my hair... what the hell. I even tossed in a Saje tranquility bomb that I briefly considered saving for Chris (it’s the thought that counts). It was the whipped cream on my self-care latte, and with that little gesture towards my mental health the words just started coming to me. I felt inspired to share about my struggles with inspiration, to put that emotion out into the world and find a commonality with society. This hamster wheel that we’ve been on of “doing our part” by doing nothing may be honourable, but it’s an inspirational buzz kill. I took a pause from blogging to catch my breath, and realized I’d forgot to breathe. I punished my creative mind by overwhelming it with the day-to-day. Maybe it was a defence mechanism to not have to face the reality that this new normal feels a little bit like you’re trapped? My wanderlust nature shut down like a young Vada Sultenfuss trying to sing “do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do” louder than her thoughts. 

Mental health advocates will tell you to say your feelings it loud, give them a name. Call yourself out on your bullshit, and by acknowledging our emotions we accept their existence. You never try to solve a problem about something you’ve convinced yourself isn’t real; if I tell myself it isn’t happening then I don’t need to fix it. Soaking in the bath and taking my opportunity to breathe, allowed me the second I needed to find clarity. I was the one creating imbalance in my life. I’ve been so scared of being told that I can’t have the experiences and passions that make me feel alive, that I focused all my energy on the things that carry no weight in my heart. I gave all my attention to my shortcomings and my fears, and with that I lost my creativity.

I went to step out of the tub and there it was, a literal sign stuck to the back of my calf. Turns out Saje bath bombs leave little fortunes behind after your serenity dissolves. It read “Be stubborn about your goals but flexible about your methods” and they were the perfect words at the perfect time. It was everything the mental health fairy on my shoulder had been trying to whisper in my ear while the depression demon was busy making too much noise. It’s the end goals that drive us, the big picture. There is no roadmap that’s right or wrong and we need to liberate ourselves of the pressure to do everything in our life the way we’ve pictured it in our mind. I even ripped the Saje fortune in half trying to peel it off my leg and read it, how ironically poetic.

Stick to what drives you, but forgive yourself if you need to detour. If it truly holds weight in your heart, then you never really go off course.