I’ve been ruminating a lot on how to express myself creatively, and whether or not it’s worth the effort of this expression.

Sometimes I think I’d love to write; I’d love to publish something and share my thoughts with the world*. And then I question whether my writing is enjoyable, whether I actually have something worth saying or something anyone else might want to hear. I question my authority, my voice and the necessity of it at every step.

I’m not particularly talented, and for so long, I feel that I – indeed, we – have been inundated with messages that tell us that it’s only worth doing something if we can make money from it. Your time is only worth how much you can grind, your identity is primarily constructed by what you do for a living, your value as a person is intertwined with what you have chosen to do for a career.

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I recently started working towards rejecting that notion. I’ve been creating something regularly – be it an abstract finger painting, a photograph of something I’ve noticed, a journal, a doodle, a clay figure, or a short paragraph of writing. I haven’t been doing it with the intention of making money from it, or even being good, but rather just for the sheer enjoyment.

I have started to engage with the process of creation, rather than the product. My paintings may be a horrendous mess when they’re finished, but I have fun playing with paint, watching it move across the canvas and getting myself covered in it. My pottery may fall apart as soon as it is dried, but I achieve sensory bliss whilst I’m moulding and manipulation the clay. My writing might not say anything profound, but it helps me process my thoughts and understand myself. My photography probably won’t win any awards or be featured on any photo lists, but love getting up close and personal with plants and rocks and having an excuse to crawl around in the dirt.

Despite not being particularly good at any of these things – not to say that I’m necessarily terrible at them all, either – I truly enjoy the process of creation. As frustrating as it can be that I don’t always know how (or have the talent) to translate my ideas and visions into something on a page or in a document, I’ve been thoroughly enjoying engaging with different processes. I’ve been appreciating the art of other people more, too, and finding myself investigating how people have managed to achieve such wonderful feats in their work. I’m still perplexed by the sheer talent of some people and feel like I can appreciate the work that goes into a piece more than I ever could before; I can appreciate the journey the artist may have gone on and feel more encouraged to look for the ideas they might be expressing.

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I’ve spent so many years battling a sense of imposter syndrome and not being able to recognise that I’m doing an okay job in general and I think I’m over it. Not in the sense that it is gone, but in the sense that I’m fed up with it and no longer wish to give it the time of day. It doesn’t serve any purpose in my life; it is not enriching, endearing, or entertaining. Whilst I can appreciate the value in being aware of your pitfalls and using that to improve, I think it’s also important to address why I care(d). When I searched for the answer, I couldn’t find one.

The imposter syndrome is important in my professional work, but when it comes to my personal growth, my creative expression and my leisure time – who cares that I’m not the superlative version of something? Why do I have to be the best at any given art? Why do I have to be the best dancer? Why do I have to be the top fan? The answer – an incredibly simple and painfully obvious one – took so long for me to grasp: you don’t. It doesn’t matter.

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I’m starting to think that, really, nothing matters. Not in a grey and dismal sense, but in the sense of, if I’m making myself happy, and not harming others, why do I care what others view me as? Why shouldn’t I throw paint at paper, claw my way through clay or photograph my way through fairyland adventures? It can still be disheartening when others don’t seem to like your projects, but what has become more important for me recently is that I like what I’m creating.

I recently made a small digital collage, compromised of photographs I had taken, and got no traction. For a moment, I was incredibly disappointed that few friends or family had commented or even liked my posts. I had spent hours on it! I had done all of the work! And nobody liked it? And then I realised – I didn’t make it for other people. I made it because I liked the look of it! I enjoyed the process of creating it. I wanted to share that enjoyment with other people, but it didn’t resonate with them. Oh well. I still like it.

I’d love to make a living from doing something I enjoy this much, that I find so freeing and fulfilling; perhaps I’d even enjoy the attention and the little dopamine boosts from social media engagements when I post a creation. But just because that might not happen, doesn’t mean it isn’t worth doing.

I just can’t believe it took me thirty-two years to reach this conclusion and just how much happier I’ve been.

*So I went with a blog.

How have you embraced your creative side recently? Let me know in the comments!