Episode 39 Transcript
This summer taught me something I didn’t expect: even when you feel perfectly fine, your body might be quietly trying to tell you something important. And sometimes, the best response isn’t pushing harder—it’s slowing down, listening, and letting yourself lean on the things that keep you grounded.
I had big plans this summer—projects I was excited to dive into, ideas I wanted to experiment with, even some deadlines I had in my head.
And then… life said, “Not so fast.” Suddenly, I had to step back, slow down, and let my health take the driver’s seat. Let’s just say, my neatly lined-up plans… got shuffled into a “pile of intention” on my table. But you know what? The world didn’t end. My world slowed down—sure—but I’m slowly catching up… literally.
That pile became a haven. It let me keep my hands busy, my mind calm, and reminded me that creativity doesn’t always need to produce anything—it just needs to exist. And here’s the thing: leaning on creativity during times like this—it’s not just a hobby. It’s therapy. Sewing, fabric, a little collage, just playing with materials… it became my anchor. Not to finish anything, not to “produce,” but just to feel grounded, to breathe a little easier, to remind myself that I’m still me, still capable of joy, even while healing.
Your health—both physical and mental—comes first. Sometimes that means pausing your creative practice, and sometimes it means leaning on it harder than ever. Either way, it’s okay. It’s not just okay; it’s necessary. Creativity isn’t a reward, it’s a tool. Sometimes it’s a lifeline. And over the past few months, I’ve learned some lessons about how it can heal in ways I never expected. I’ll tell you what happened when I had to slow down, why my projects became my therapy, and the surprising ways creativity can carry you through the toughest days.
This past summer really tested me, in more ways than one. I went from feeling (what I thought was) completely fine to suddenly facing a serious health crisis that demanded immediate attention. Without warning, my carefully planned summer—launching my membership, finishing projects, reworking courses, experimenting with new ideas—all of that came to a screeching halt. I literally couldn’t do much of the work I had promised, and I had to step back in a way that felt…well… strange, frustrating, and scary all at the same time.
I won’t go into too much detail, but it was serious. I had lots of testing which resulted in 3 heart surgeries and loads of recovery. Over the course of a couple of months, everything slowed way down. I had moments where I couldn’t focus, couldn’t create, and had to rely on the support systems I’d built around me—both professionally and personally. I experienced little things out of character: intense fear, fatigue, panic, distraction, a sense of mental haze. It was confusing, and at first, I didn’t fully understand why I was feeling so off.
How it got to such a dangerous place can be chocked up to genetics and the wrong medical team, along with the standard thought process of “your too young for that” or “you don’t have the right symptoms.”
I will say this: it was a lot to process. Mentally, emotionally, even spiritually, it felt like walking through fog some days—trying to balance the desire to keep creating with the reality that my health had to come first. Like it or not - Everything else had to wait.
Now here’s where creativity, and my “work” (in air quotes) quietly saved me. Sewing, my fabric stash, and the small projects I could manage became my anchor. I’d sit at my table, play with textures, touch the fabrics, sketch or just move pieces around. It wasn’t about producing or achieving; it was about connection, grounding myself, easing anxiety, and reminding myself I was still capable, even when life felt uncertain.
That’s the core of what I want to explore today: how leaning into creativity—even imperfectly, even slowly, for no reason at all—can help us navigate serious challenges. It’s not just a hobby or a business. It’s a tool. A lifeline. It was my lifeline! Not because I wanted to finish anything, not because I was chasing results, but because the act of working with my hands and letting my mind wander creatively—helped me breathe and reminded me that I’m still me.
That’s when I started thinking differently about creativity—not only as something we produce, but something that supports us. Something that carries us when life demands we slow down, when we feel anxious, or when we’re simply not at our best. And that, in many ways, is what this episode is about: how creativity can meet you where you are, even when your life has forced you to pause.
And that’s when I realized just how grounding creativity can be. I didn’t need to finish anything. I didn’t need to meet deadlines or make something beautiful. What I needed was presence—something to keep my hands moving, my mind a little lighter, and my heart a little steadier.
Sometimes that meant sitting at my sewing machine and stitching slowly, just letting the rhythm of the machine calm my thoughts. Sometimes it meant letting a pile of fabrics, half-cut patterns, and unfinished projects sit on my table, waiting quietly for me until I felt ready to engage. The mere presence of those materials reminded me I hadn’t stopped completely, even when my energy had.
Sewing, fabric, collage—it wasn’t production that mattered; it was the act of being with them. The textures under my fingers, the colors side by side, the way a piece of fabric moved in my hands… those small moments became tiny anchors in the middle of uncertainty. Each stitch I took, each scrap I moved, each pattern I traced reminded me that I was still capable of joy, still capable of caring for myself, still capable of being me, even while my world had temporarily slowed down. There was stuff I liked doing waiting for me when I’d wake up from my much needed nap.
And here’s something I want you to hear clearly: it’s okay not to be okay. Vulnerability is not a weakness—it’s a strength. Acknowledging where you are allows healing to begin. And sometimes the most powerful way to acknowledge yourself is simply to show up, in whatever small way you can, with the things that bring you peace—your fabrics, your projects, your hands-on creativity.
It is equally important to take rest when you need it. Pushing through is not a power move. Pushing through is not a sign of strength, or fortitude, or will. Letting your body heal on its own time is a sign of knowing who you are and how you work.
It’s not about making something perfect. It’s not about finishing. It’s about giving yourself permission to be present, to move, to create—just because it grounds you. Sometimes the therapy isn’t in the final product—it’s in the quiet act itself, the gentle return to what you love, the small reminders that life, even in slow motion, still holds moments of joy.
So if you’ve ever felt like you should be producing, or that taking a pause means falling behind, I want you to hear this: leaning into your creativity during a pause isn’t slacking. Not being able to create at the pace you used to isn’t failing. It’s healing. It’s necessary. And it will carry you forward, piece by piece, until you’re ready to reengage fully.
Sometimes the hardest permission to give yourself isn’t about picking up a project—it’s about putting one down. Life, deadlines, expectations, even your own inner drive can make it feel like you have to create every day, every week, or else you’re falling behind. I want you to hear me and own this as well: that’s not true.
I opened up about my health scare to illustrate that very point. It’s not true.
Giving yourself permission to rest, to pause, to step away from your projects, to change your plans temporarily—it’s not giving up. It’s recalibrating. It’s honoring your mental and physical health. Your creative work doesn’t always need to be productive. Right now, its purpose might simply be to let you breathe, to help you reconnect with yourself, to help you keep your mind from going crazy.
This perspective shift isn’t just feel-good advice—it’s a mental health strategy. Anxiety, overwhelm, and stress often sneak in when we push too hard, when we ignore the signs that we need to slow down, when we push ourselves to do when we know we cannot do. Creativity, when approached with awareness, becomes a tool to notice those signs, not just a task to check off.
And here’s the thing about perspective: it changes everything. You’re not behind because you’re resting. You’re not failing because you’re taking time for yourself. You’re simply aligning with your health, with your rhythm, with the reality that we’re all human—and humans need recovery, reflection, and self-care.
So as you move through your week, notice the moments when your energy is low, or your mind is racing, or you feel tension creeping in. Give yourself explicit permission to step back, even if it’s just for an hour. If you need more than that – take it! And when you do, pay attention to what you feel when you return—more centered, more calm, more able to engage fully with your creative work, without guilt or without pressure.
One of the things I realized during my recovery is that I didn’t just endure because I leaned on creativity—I endured because I had systems in place that let me step back without spiraling into guilt or panic. Not to say that I didn’t try, but still.
For years, I’ve used tools like the Full Focus Planner to manage my days and expectations. And one of the biggest lessons from that - Up to three things per day is enough. That’s it. When your health or circumstances demand that you slow down, focusing on the essentials keeps everything from falling apart—and gives you the mental space to heal.
I also rely on a simple quadrant system for priorities—Do, Delay, Delegate, Discard. When push came to shove, I had to prioritize health appointments and critical responsibilities, like paying bills. Everything else—fun, projects, tasks, even experiments—had to wait. And that’s okay.
Even little things mattered. Take Cosmo, my special needs feline for example. He’s not exactly a fan of strangers. I worried constantly about whether he’d take his meds, or even be okay while I was away. The pet sitter gave up entirely, but as soon as my sister walked in, he ran to her, rolled over, and buried his head in her overnight bag. He trusted her instantly. He took all his meds on schedule, slept with her a night or two, and was perfectly content. That little episode reminded me—some systems work perfectly, some still need tweaking. But having a plan in place, even one that isn’t quite flawless yet, made all the difference.
These systems aren’t about being rigid. They’re about creating space—space to heal, to breathe, to lean into creativity without pressure, and to know that even when life runs you over, the important things don’t fall through the cracks.
The takeaway? When you have clear structures, even in your creative or business life, stepping back doesn’t feel like failing. It feels like strategy. It feels like self-care. And it frees you to let your creativity be exactly what it needs to be—sometimes a lifeline, sometimes a calm companion, sometimes just a way to keep your hands busy while your mind catches up.
One thing this summer really reinforced for me is how important it is to listen to your own intuition. Those little nudges, the tiny signals something’s off—they matter. Your health matters. Your mental health matters. Listen to yourself. Pay attention. Those small inner signals can alert you when something isn’t right.
Acting on them can protect you, physically and emotionally.
And I want you to remember: It’s okay not to be okay. Slowing down to heal isn’t a failure—it’s essential. And it’s okay if your creative practice takes a backseat sometimes. You don’t have to create every day to be creative; your worth isn’t measured by productivity.
At the same time, balance your creative needs. Sometimes you create to distract, sometimes for pure joy, and sometimes you can’t create at all—and all of that is valid. Creativity can be your anchor. Sewing, playing with fabrics, moving your hands—it’s not always about finishing. Sometimes it’s just about presence. Creativity isn’t a reward; it’s a tool. Sometimes it’s a lifeline.
So as you move through this week, think about a way to reconnect with your creative self—a small plan, a little corner of time, a project just for you. No pressure, no expectations—just a gentle step toward grounding yourself, finding your center, and giving your hands and heart some joy.
Take care of yourself. Honor yourself. And remember, creativity can heal, even when life asks you to slow down.
