Lately, I’ve been thinking about what it means to feel nourished—not just physically,
but creatively and emotionally too. This past week, something as simple as watering my flowers or painting rocks with my daughter reminded me how much joy I can find in grounding moments. She inspires me with the way she approaches color and play so freely. Watching her reminds me that creativity doesn’t have to be polished—it just has to be honest.
I feel things deeply. And sometimes, the emotions don’t have a direct path to words—but they show up in my art. That’s where I’ve always processed the hard things, the in-between moments, and even the quiet bursts of clarity. I’ve learned that I create best not when I’m pushing myself to be productive, but when I’m present.
As someone who is neurodivergent, it hasn’t always been easy to keep that momentum going. My mind tends to move in a thousand directions at once, and for years that meant I’d start things and never finish them. But recently I’ve found more flow. I’ve learned to work with my brain instead of against it.
One unexpected tool that’s helped is ChatGPT. Not as a replacement for my voice—but as a thought partner. A way to sort through all the ideas swirling in my head. I still write from the heart—it’s just nice to have a way to organize it, keep the threads connected, and stay focused on what I really want to say. It’s helped me keep going.
I’ve also been paying more attention to how I take care of myself—especially as I move through perimenopause. I’ve been making a daily shake that supports my body and reminds me to fuel myself with intention. These little things—painting, nourishing my body, being in the garden—they’ve helped me feel more grounded. I’m listening to myself more.
It’s easy to get caught in the loop of giving and forget your own needs. But I’m trying to rewrite that. I want my future self to remember that I made space for rest, play, and joy—that I chose to nurture myself, not just keep going for the sake of it.
Even in the studio, I’m trying to shift. I’ve been layering textures, pens, and paints—letting myself play. Letting go of the idea that I need to “save” art supplies. Growing up, we didn’t have much, and I think that scarcity mindset stuck with me. But now I remind myself: this is what they’re for. To use. To explore.
And that’s what this season is for me. Rooting. Blooming. Reclaiming joy—not as a reward, but as a right.
