Back when we had a spare bedroom, I asked my husband to move my desk to the window. Covid had just started and my part time job switched to working from home. I needed the desk to do some work and have privacy while everyone else was home. It was a simple change.

The window overlooked the yard and had great views of the tops of some trees. This is perfect I thought. But it was more than that. For some reason I made the connection between that desk, the view, and me finally saying yes to my writing dreams.

Like many creatives, there are many thoughts swirling around why we cannot do our creative work. One common misconception is “I need to have a dedicated space.” This is not true.
You don’t have to have a private office to write. You don’t need an art studio to paint. In fact, I enjoy moving around and changing my work stations.

But back then, I was doing very little writing and had always craved “the space” to do it.

I remember sitting there with my files that I had taken from work. Note pads, laptop, pens and exhaling. I felt like I had somehow graduated. There was an excitement in my belly that was whispering, it’s finally happening.

A few months later that same position let me go due to the pandemic, I was in my second trimester with my second child. The desk remained. I’d more often find myself napping in bed than writing, but I knew that I was inching my way closer to something bigger, I wasn’t sure exactly what it was.

Turns out it wasn’t bigger but TRUER.

Truer Version
Writing for work had come naturally. It was a way of marketing my coaching practice and sharing stories of growth and healing. It was not a straight line but over the years I learned more and my writing got better.

My true stories of facing fears, discovering challenges as blessings in disguise, and tools for living as a highly sensitive person were reaching more people.

At that time my writing was doing something for me. It was therapeutic and meaningful. It led to connections and new clients. I became more consistent and was able to get published numerous times on the Tiny Buddha blog.

I met the most amazing women from around the world and got to hear about their lives. Such a gift. Yet, there was still something missing.

I wanted something that didn’t have an agenda. I wanted to allow more freedom, flow and creativity to come through. The only problem was, it was incredibly hard and uncomfortable to say YES to something that didn’t have an agenda.
My ego wanted a return on investment. It wanted my creative pursuits to be worth it and make sense. And then there were the constant internal questions, what else would I even write? I succeeded in one area – personal essay, but was there another avenue for me?

Taking A Pause
Aka a really really long break
After having my first child and struggling with postpartum, my second felt like a breeze. Making it through the crazy negativity of the pandemic was tough but I felt like I had it under control.

Then more terrible news and challenges made me hit a hard stop. I was burned out galore. I spoke to an astrologer who offered “take three months off” and my initial response, huge resistance. A few months then became two years.

To be fair, I was writing for most of my “time off” – the only difference became the most important one. I started writing for myself. There was no clear agenda. Just stories and creative dreams started to come to the surface and being that I was taking a break from everything – I gave myself permission to go with it.

I kept hearing the head noise – what are you writing for? This is a waste of time and energy. Make a decision already. But, I didn’t listen. I just kept exploring and dedicating energy to creative pursuits.

And in that time, I filled a notebook with poetry (even shared some), wrote my first short story – a fiction about a professor remembering she believes in magic, jumped into art journaling, and began drafting a book about the creative process for sensitives struggling to see their gifts.

All of the above included one common denominator – I did it for me. Just because. I did it because I loved writing and as a sensitive creative person, I had been taking in a lot more than I had been expressing. I started when I wanted, stopped when I felt it was time. Took breaks from it all. Got curious, then paused again.

I probably should have mentioned this earlier but, I DO NOT LIKE PAUSES. I don’t like being slow. I don’t like not knowing where the creative process is heading. But, I stuck with it and that process taught me that my creative fears were not only emotional (more on that later); they were process based.

I Hate the Process
I honestly do. Not jumping into creative dreams earlier in life, had to do with fears of not believing in myself, facing perfectionism, and being vulnerable. These are common and you CAN work through them as I did. I will share more about working through these! The one I hadn’t realized was my serious disdain of a process.

The process is messy. The process is unclear. It makes no sense and then it kind of makes sense and then it doesn’t again. There are no promises in it. It takes as long as it takes and that is the whole point.

The process is leading you somewhere beautiful. It might be a simple awareness about your worth. It might be a painting you sell or a program you fill. It might be a wound you have been avoiding that starts to heal.

Something will be gained and it takes a tremendous amount of trust to keep moving forward when you have everything I just mentioned hanging around your head. The process is something I have become curious and a bit obsessed with.

I looked back and saw that my resistance to the process was familiar in almost every area of my life. The time it took to learn new things, begin friendships, get healthy, start projects, and the up and down experiences of life had left me hating the unknowns with more doubt than belief.

When I kept showing up to write regardless of my resistance to the process, I started to feel bright. I knew I was doing it for me – because I loved it. The stress of the process began to lighten and I found pure joy in it.

In fact, not knowing where it was all going made it easier. It quieted my mind and the constant judgment that came up. My relationship with the process began to shift.

Without an agenda, my perspective changed… the process became this fun ride that I genuinely said YES too.

With love and light,
Orly