Letting the Creative Self Rise: Reordering the Rhythm of Adulthood
For most of my adult life, my priorities have been shaped by responsibility. There’s always something to fix, to file, to pay, to plan. The to-do list never seems to end. And somewhere near the bottom—if there’s time left—sits my creative self, waiting patiently.
But I’ve realized something lately: what if that part of me deserves to go first sometimes?
This morning, while curled up on the couch with Happy and Zack, I was thinking about all the things I need to do—phone calls, errands, finances, health care tasks—and I felt a familiar heaviness. Not because I don’t want to be an adult, but because I miss the feeling of creating without pressure. I miss letting my imagination come first. I miss making just to make.
So today, I moved my Creative Spark to the top of my daily rhythm. Not because the other things don’t matter, but because this part of me has waited long enough. And I’m learning that creativity isn’t an indulgence—it’s a form of care. It nourishes me, grounds me, and helps me show up more fully in everything else I do.
I’ve started to think of my daily rhythm not as a strict list, but as a living circle. Some days, Health & Care leads. Other days, Finance & Admin. But every now and then, I rotate Creative Spark to the top—like a sun rising. That’s the only way I know to keep that part of me alive.
If you’re someone who struggles with this too—if your creativity always ends up last—here are a few gentle things I’m trying:
• Rotate your rhythm. Don’t erase the list—just let your inner artist take the lead now and then.
• Start small. Ten minutes in the shop. A few lines in a journal. A song on the piano. A sketch. A scribble. It counts.
• Build trust with yourself. Show your inner child you’re willing to make time. Not as a reward for finishing chores, but because they matter.
• Let play be enough. Not everything has to be productive. Making something silly or beautiful just because is sacred.
And maybe most importantly—let go of the guilt. You don’t have to earn your creativity. You already have it. You are it.
So today, I’m giving mine the morning light. And I hope, in your own time and way, you’ll do the same.
If any part of this stirred something in you—a sketch, a sentence, a spark—I’d love to know. No pressure, no performance. Just the joy of knowing the creative thread is still weaving. You can leave a comment, send me a note, or simply create something for yourself and smile knowing we’re in it together.