It has been a few years of forgetting, then remembering.

Falling out of balance, then coming back into it.

Finding the middle way.

Finding, again and again in new ways, my creative identity.

Identifying with my creative practice in new ways.
Dissolving old hurts, patterns, wounds, and stories.
Making way for something new.

Quite honestly, I burned myself out.

I spent so many hours giving so much to others to nurture their creative momentum that I fell out of balance with my own practice.

Between 2020 and 2024, I worked on a beautiful handful of my own projects and managed to produce more than 5 published books.

But then slowly over time from 2024 to 2026, I shifted to hosting writing groups, creating space for private clients in coaching sessions, and completing a lot of editing projects that…

I wasn’t making time for my own art.

I wasn’t feeling inspired.

I felt lost.

As much as I told myself, quit checking your email so much, don’t do so many sales calls, take a break…I couldn’t resist being a workaholic and that rush of adrenaline and dopamine when you post and someone likes it.

But what I’ve needed to come back to is just creating for the fun of it, writing shit that no one else is going to see, scribbling nonsense in my own notebooks, and not putting so much pressure on getting a draft right the first time.

Only wrote a paragraph today? Great.

Felt tired but sketched one list of fun ideas I could write later? Yes.

Celebrating the tiniest glimmers has been a healing balm to my creative heart.

For much of 2025 and 2026, in my creative writing life I felt… lost, tuned out, unfocused, numb.

But you know what? I’ve realized telling myself “I’ve lost my practice” is also just a story. And it’s not really a true one.

We don’t ever really “lose” ourselves… I mean, I’m still right here. In my body, in this present moment. I’m not “lost” and needing to be found… there’s nothing wrong with me.

I’ve just shifted. I’ve used my time differently. I’ve needed to learn a lesson by taking a detour, maybe.

Metaphor aside, I’ve slowly been building new creative sparks into my life.

I’ve been writing things with no real goal in mind. No plan to publish. No goal for how many readers will like, comment, and re-share. No monetization behind the creation.

It feels good! It feels freeing!

To be creative and rebellious and to trust myself instead of second guess myself.

I’m writing this down so that a year from now, five, ten, twenty… I can remember. I’m writing this down for any other creatives out there who feel lost, but really aren’t.

We can come home to ourselves, our bodies, and our purposeful work at any time. We don’t have to beat ourselves up about what we’ve done or not done this year.

We can love ourselves one tiny creative moment at a time.

Much love.

Alive in the Fire