I’m always starting something new. Whether it’s a drawing in one of my sketchbooks, writing a new blog post, or jotting down the first few lines of what I hope will become a poem.

Truthfully, not everything I start reaches completion. However, I’m choosing not to place any judgement on me or my rate of completion. What’s important is that when I have the mental clarity and focus to start anything at all, I do. I’m engaging with the creative practice that I established for myself to cope with my chronic illness and non-stop chronic pain.
To me, starting something, any of the things I listed, means that I’m leaning in to my creativity. Starting means giving myself permission and space to let go of the anxiety and stress tightly wrapped around being ill for so long and often being housebound. Even if it’s just for a little while, it’s a release of pent up negative energy. Similar to emotional and psychological energy, that at other times in my life I’ve been unable to let go of and paid a physical price for.
Having this understanding now is important. Years ago, creating art was a constant part of my life. Unfortunately, I didn’t recognize its significance then nor did I know why my need to create was triggered, like I do now. I understand more every day that even a brief creative engagement is beneficial to my emotional and psychological health. Ultimately, it has a positive effect on my physical health too; so, I keep starting.
Back then, I never connected consciously with the fact that I benefitted from the meditative qualities inherent to becoming lost for hours within the lines and shapes I drew, the layers of colours I applied to paper and canvases, or the words I strung together; so I allowed it to fall away from my life. In a twist of fate, becoming ill amplified the need to have an escape I could easily access and I’m grateful that I chose a creative outlet.
A few days ago, I started something new in a sketchbook with black paper. I love the way graphite from a pencil and white ink look on a black page. The graphite lines are what I consider ghostly because they register so faintly on the page, while the white ink creates a strong contrast.

I’m anxious—in a good way—to see how this page will develop as I fill in the faintly sketched graphite guide lines with bright white ink. Even though, I know I may not finish it…
I’m curious to know if you ever start something creative just for the heck of releasing some energy 🤔