My whole life I’ve never believed I was creative. My mother and brother were creative. I was the intellectual one. They picked up a pen and out came an actual picture. They sat down at the piano and out came actual music; but me? Me not so much.
I thought, for a long time, that writing was my thing. My space to be creative. That thing that came naturally, that made me happy, that gave me an outlet. But I finally realized that it’s not that thing. That thing that pulls something unexpected out of you. That thing that truly makes your soul sing. You know, that thing.
I’ve “crafted” in some way or another all through my adulthood. I think it began with the nesting instincts that came along with the birth of my daughter. Even though I “crafted,” and my family believed me “crafty,” I never quite found anything I felt comfortable with. Nothing that made me feel as if I were expressing myself creatively. But then, I never gave myself permission to actually believe that I could go beyond basic crafting to be creative.
Recently something changed within me. Don’t ask me to define it. I don’t know exactly when it happened or what caused the shift; but I finally gave in and thought that I could be creative. I gave myself permission to try new things to find a creative outlet. Explore new mediums, experiment, fail and hopefully to ultimately succeed.
And thus this blog was born. I hope you’ll find me, and my journey, interesting enough to follow along.