My Creative Year, Your Creative Year
After a false start, 2024 was a rollercoaster year of creativity - in 2025 I’m going to share what I learned.
Why commit to a year of creativity?
In January last year, I committed to the idea of being an artist—not just in theory, not just dabbling, but a full-throttle, heart-deep, joyous, tear-inducing commitment. My biggest ambition, starting 2024, was to stand at the year's end and declare, confidently and without squirming, “I am an artist.” No hesitations. No awkward, downcast looks. Just a proud, joyful statement of who I am.
So, why does this matter? Well, for starters, creativity has been my lifeline, the anchor that helped me come back from the bleak, burnout-laden shores of undiagnosed autism, anxiety, and depression. After years of feeling misunderstood and somewhat disconnected from the “real world,” rediscovering creativity has been my recovery. In a world where superficial connections can leave us feeling empty, creativity brings us home to ourselves, and to others, in a way that nothing else can.
When I was young, creativity was everything to me. I lived in a world filled with myth, fairy tales, and history’s boldest figures. From Nancy Drew’s mysteries to Heidi’s alpine escapades and the grandeur of Greek mythology, I devoured stories. Yet as I grew older, life pushed creativity to the back burner. I was gently nudged (okay, shoved) towards “sensible” careers. Like many, I was told that a “real job” was essential and creativity was, well, a hobby at best. My creative spirit reluctantly took a back seat as I traveled, worked, and got on with “adulting.”
There were glimmers of creative success in my twenties, a few writing wins, but burnout caught up with me. Creativity slipped further away, and life filled up with the responsibilities of work, marriage, and motherhood. For a while, I found solace in the creative chaos of raising a young child—arts and crafts, birthday party extravaganzas, endless fairy cakes. But kids grow up, and eventually, my son had his own adventures to chase.
Around my 40s, I made tentative steps back toward art. I completed a foundation course, mulled over becoming an art therapist (because surely I couldn’t just be *an artist*, could I?), and even held my first solo exhibition. But the fairytale didn’t unfold. Life got in the way. My husband’s health struggles and the everyday hurdles of family life took precedence.
And then, there was a pivotal moment—a turning point, really—on my 48th birthday. My husband gifted me a beautiful photography book filled with striking, glamorous images of women, and I was overwhelmed. I sat there, leafing through the pages, tears streaming down my face, as I realized how far I’d drifted from the life I’d always wanted. That was the start. After years of pushing creativity to the sidelines, I knew I had to make it a priority.
Since that moment, the journey has been full of highs and lows, but I’ve committed to carving out a path for myself and others like me—those who feel a deep creative yearning but are grappling with life's practicalities, neurodivergent challenges, or societal expectations. It’s not been an easy journey, and some days it feels like I’m hacking through a jungle of self-doubt with a creativity-infused machete. But I’m here, and each step forward brings me closer to a life that feels authentically my own.
The Creative Year is my record of this adventure. It's my story of rediscovery, growth, and determination to let my creativity flourish, no matter the odds. I’ll be sharing the joy, the struggles, the evolving artistic style, and all the tiny moments that made last year’s journey worthwhile. If you’re out there, feeling that creative tug but struggling to answer it, I hope my experiences offer some encouragement. We’re in this together, machetes in hand, ready to carve out a path for our creative souls.