I was mindlessly scrolling through Pinterest last night when a photo stopped me cold. It was a dreamcatcher… one that I had made several years ago. Seeing it unexpectedly felt like opening a time capsule. Memories came rushing back all at once, pulling me into a season of my life I don’t often revisit – but one that shaped so much of who I am today.
That moment reminded me of a chapter in my life where creating wasn’t just a hobby—it was survival. Over this 7-part series, I want to share how each phase shaped me, one project at a time.
Finding Solace in Creation
I was newly married, a time that is supposed to feel joyful and full of possibility, but behind the scenes I was barely holding on. My partner at the time had struggles of their own, and neither of us had the tools to navigate what we were going through individually, let alone together. I felt lost… and deeply, painfully alone. I needed something, anything, to give my mind a place to rest.
Creating with my hands became that something.
Crafting Through Chaos
At that time, I was numbing myself in unhealthy ways, including relying heavily on cannabis. Combined with creating, it became a temporary escape from my thoughts and from the world around me. Music filled the room, creating a kind of distance between me and the chaos in my mind. My workspace felt like a sanctuary, covered in inspiration and overflowing with craft supplies. Inside that small creative bubble, anything felt possible.
I made dreamcatchers using beads and found willow branches. I started a paper mâché octopus that I never finished but was unbelievably proud of anyway. I colored in coloring books, doodled endlessly, painted on burlap, and sorted through supplies just to feel grounded. The projects didn’t need to be perfect or even completed. They just needed to exist.
Whatever I created was tactile and deeply personal. The simple act of using my hands felt like a quiet hug during a time when I felt disconnected from almost everything else.
Rediscovering Myself Through Hands and Heart
Eventually, those random projects led me toward discovering string art and a small but meaningful spark of confidence. Even though I still felt broken on the inside, I began uncovering parts of myself that had been buried for a long time. Creativity became a buoy, keeping me afloat in ways I didn’t fully understand at the time.
Looking back now, I can see that I was creating not just to pass time, but to survive emotionally. There was a period when all I felt toward myself was anger and disappointment. Revisiting these projects reminds me that even during my darkest seasons, I was still trying. I was still searching for connection, healing, and a sense of identity.
And when those old feelings try to creep back in today, these memories remind me that I have faced hard emotions before and found my way through them. The difference now is that I have healthier tools, stronger boundaries, and a deeper understanding of myself.
I was doing the best I could at that time with the tools I had… and that is more than enough.
Creativity didn’t fix everything during that time in my life, but it gave me enough light to keep moving forward until I could finally find myself again.
Next in the Series
In Part 2, I’ll share the paint-covered nights of my early acrylic pour years…
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