Survival Mode Has No Room for Poetry

When Words Fall Quiet

Sometimes life gets so loud — 

not loud in the way that noises pierce your ears

but loud in the way that you drive home from work and don’t remember the route you took 

or what you saw. 

Loud in the way your weekends are filled with gymnastics classes and grocery store runs . 

Life gets loud in the way that you’re always cooking dinner but you never remember the taste of the food on your tongue.

Life gets loud in the way you rush out of bed in the mornings and numb your fatigue with the next big thing on Netflix. 

In the loudness my creativity dissipates. As my creativity dissipates my emotions become hidden in tasks laid out for me by everyone but myself. When my creativity dissipates my eyes dull and my thoughts become clouded in a mind bound by the unspoken rules of adulthood.

My creativity comes in waves of writing, of poetry, and strokes of paint from a new box of acrylics. My creativity comes in the sway of turns with arms floating past living room windows as I dance with my daughter. My creativity comes in the form of too many photos taking up space on my phone, decorating a lonely corner of my home, and planning another holiday display.

Sometimes my creativity goes quiet, my words fall silent, and my passion fades amongst the chores and 10 am Zoom meetings. When the creativity fades from my mind, my lips lock and my fingertips become stiff, and I need another round of Botox for the number 11’s between my eyes. It is then that I know I’m in that dark, quiet season of survival mode, where the cycles of fatigue and disinterest win; where my temper is shortened. It is then that I know I’m in that dark, quiet season of survival mode — where fatigue and disinterest win. It’s the season when caring for others takes precedence over the parts of me longing to be expressed on paper or set free while dancing to Whitney Houston. If half a dozen of half-filled note books with jotted down verses gather dust I know that its time to gently turn away from normalizing the loudness of daily life and return to my creative expression. It is then that I know it is time to not just survive the regularity of daily life but to dip my brushes in forgotten paints and listen to the wind breathe so I can describe it on paper.

The Price of Staying Disconnected from our Voice

Women were meant to give life — to rooms, to environments to anything they touch. Whatever that means to you, it matters. Disconnection from that creative flow can result from tension, fatigue, burnout, or comfort in the repeating pattern of life’s responsibilities. Being disconnected from that creativity can result tension, fatigue, sadness, and becoming lost in the repetitive patterns that make up the boxes in a 12 month calendar. I know for myself if I’m not creating, if I’m disconnected from creating, it’s mirroring self-disconnection. If I’m not creating, I feel further away from myself.

So I invite you to return. What is something your younger self loved to do? Where are you holding something that you want to say? What inspires you? What makes you curious? Let that curiosity lead. Creativity is life, it’s healing, it’s a dream and a road. Creativity helps to regulate your nervous system; it increases clarity and reduces anxiety. Use your emotions as a doorway to unleash whatever is alive in you.