The Creativity Is What Fuels Me

The trouble with being a creative person is the creativity is what fuels me… in a world that doesn’t allow much time for creativity.

In my world, there is time for laundry and dishes, for packing lunches and for snuggles on the couch. There is time for cooking dinner and making the 15th taco/quesadilla/some other something consisting of cheese and carbs for picky children that week. There is time for telling stories and time for baths. There is time for counting my blessings and laughing with my family. There is time for a lot of really lovely, ordinary, everyday things that I am immensely grateful for.

There are never enough hours in the day to create.

There is time to lay awake at night, dreaming of all the things I want to create, of all the books I want to write, of the pictures I want to take, of the stories I want to tell.

In the morning, there is only time to be regretful of staying up so late with my dreams and plans. There is time to answer emails and send out invoices. There is time to pay bills and mess with code. There is sometimes time to get started on a draft, an outline, a rough sketch of something, but there is never enough time to finish it.

Because my life is interrupted by one of the millions of little things I am, truly, immensely grateful for. The things I know that won’t always be here. The things that will grow up and leave someday, leaving me with all the time in the world to create.

But the trouble with being a creative person is the creativity is what fuels me.

And yes, creating life, well that’s some kind of amazing right there. I won’t argue that. But, I’m never happy with creating just one kind of thing. I want to create life (and nourish those little lives, and wipe those little noses, and watch them play), but I also want to create other bits of lovely in this world that give me the fuel I need to pour all of my happy spirit into those little lives.

And somedays it just feels like I’m running on fumes of creativity. And I get so overwhelmed by the everyday and the ordinary, and I look at all the creative things I haven’t done, all the dreams I haven’t brought to life, and I feel tired. Sure, probably tired from the whole incubating a fetus thing, and the 2 year old still waking 3-4 times a night thing.

But mostly tired because the creativity is what fuels me.

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