Creativity? I don't know her.
So, all my life I have twirled into conversations spouting creative whims, receiving “outstanding creativity” marks on my report cards, accepting superlatives declaring me as “most creative” throughout grade school and well beyond. From my first official job to my last official in-house 9-to-5 corporate contract, I was always the creative one on the team. The one who would come up with the copy. The one who would come up with the color scheme. The one to come up with the campaign that would elevate and celebrate whatever project I was assigned to. I was the Trojan horse of creativity in all the fields I touched — traditional marketing, digital marketing, PR, content strategy, content writing, events, and of course social media. Creativity seemed to attach itself to me, for better or for worse.
Real talk though — My second-nature, my creativity, feels different after the pandemic.
Sedona, AZ. Should I book a ticket for a sunset or two?
My brain never stops. It goes approximately 673 miles a minute. I go from thinking about why a musician would pick a font or filter for their album cover to thinking about what it would be like to Humans of New York the hell out of nearby communities who have important and historic stories to tell about the inequality of living in these neighborhoods. And then I go from thinking about copy I wrote eight weeks ago for a client and tailspin into wondering if it was sparkly enough and then quickly, my brain is back to wondering if I should block out my calendar for the rest of the day to write or if I should just maybe run away off into the desert. You know, I hear the sunset in Sedona, AZ is pretty phenomenal.
This is what happens to the people who society loves to call “movers and shakers” and, god forbid, “hustlers.” They never stop. They go and go and go and try so hard to keep up with everything. But here is what I believe in my brain going approximately 673 miles a minute — these aspirational “movers and shakers” and “hustlers” are — no matter what they say — on the cusp of burning out. I know this from experience because once upon a time, I was called all those things and while it felt good in performance reviews or on my bonus check — it was never enough, never fulfilling, and never mentally and physically worth the bubbling burnout that comes with such titles and work (and boy, was half of that work not even worth the energy if we’re talking frank).
Burnout happens in all sorts of ways. Some people have public breakdowns (truly no shame in showing emotion in public, if you ask me). Some people leave whatever it is their doing — even careers they’ve had forever — to go find something new (like something where the word hustle will never ever again be used in a sentence). Some people freeze — unsure of what is next despite having the strength to walk away from the hustle culture they were immersed in.
“If you’re alive, you’re a creative person.””
With more than 19 percent of Americans struggling with mental illness right now, the percentage increase of 1.5 million from previous years is staggering. 1.5 million. I’m one of the American’s struggling with mental illness — I have anxiety and depression. And now I’m one of those “movers and shakers” and “creative brains” struggling to find that Tinkerbell golden pixie dust creativity that once so easily swirled around me during client brainstorms and even afternoon cocktail meetings.
While I realized the pandemic has had a lot to do with how people feel about their creative endeavors, I also understand getting into a rut that gingerly chips away at your creativity until you feel depleted. I hear it from friends, family, acquaintances, Facebook group strangers with posts that overshare, and of course frenemies — creative energy levels, if not at a dead ass zero, are running on empty.
I wanted to write this and have some wisdom like “take a bubble bath, add some flower petals, and then write a sonnet and paint wildflowers nude in your sunroom because you will be miraculously healed” or “drive up the coast for the weekend and only take photos with your Polaroid to tap into creativity that isn’t so dependent on WiFi.” But let me tell you this — I have no wisdom (not even my wisdom teeth) in this area of what it means to be a living, breathing emotional human being.
What I do have are books on my bedside I haven’t read. I have a bathtub that I have started to spend a lot of time in because sometimes as the sweat from the hot water drips down my forehead, I feel that bubbling sense of creativity nearly tangible again. I have a Bluetooth speaker that plays songs that make me both happy and sad at the same time — some perfect combination for creating something out of conflicting emotions. What I have is a whisper in my ear that the creativity I’m seeking, whether it’s on a page, a canvas, or even in a multimillion-dollar presentation is never too far because if you believe in creativity, it’s going to come back. Dare I say that creativity is ours for the taking when the time arrives?
Not a day goes by where I don’t think of Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland quote, “Sometimes I believe in as many as six impossible things before breakfast.” To me, creativity means believing in impossible and unbelievable things … especially before breakfast. Believing in impossible things and letting that subtle shimmer of magic seep in is truly my secret for digging out of a ditch that isn’t creatively welcoming me home.
Let me be clear about one thing though: I’ve been disappointed in my lack of unbridled creativity throughout this pandemic, but I am acknowledging it for what it is. And I’m ready to move on. So I share this blog with you who may feel burnt out, who may never want to hear the word “hustle” again, and you who feel like you’ve lost the magic of creativity and effervescent ideas floating in and around your heart and genius brain.
Creativity is there. Grab a shovel and go find it. Play a song on repeat until your feet hurt and your mind is tired. Put bravery first and tell your worries to hit the road — “fuck ‘em” I say. Go in and find treasure ready to spill out of your beautiful pores. Do this at your own pace, but keep one thing in mind: “If you’re alive, you’re a creative person.” — Elizabeth Gilbert, Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear