You’re More Than What You Do: Remembering the Creative Woman Within
You ever have one of those days where you sit down to create—write, plan, dream—and your mind just says… no?
Not a full meltdown. Not a dramatic spiral. Just… nothing. No spark. No flow. Just fog.
I’ve been in that space more times than I care to admit—where even the things that usually bring me joy start to feel heavy.
Where I’m still showing up, still doing the things, but the light behind it is flickering.
And for a long time, I didn’t realize what I was feeling had a name.
I thought maybe I was just tired or distracted. But the truth is, I was in a creative fog—and that fog wasn’t the problem. It was the signal.
I talked more about this tension between showing up and feeling disconnected in a previous post about not feeling like a coach—and the hidden grief behind still trying to perform.
Don’t Force It—Feel It
There’s this temptation, especially for high-achieving women, to treat creativity like a switch:
If I just try harder, I’ll get back in flow.
If we even recognize it at all.
Because here’s the truth—sometimes we don’t.
I didn’t recognize the fog, because I didn’t consider myself outside of what I did for a living.
I was a problem-solver, a performer, a planner. I knew how to hit deadlines, not how to sit in silence.
I had the degrees, the title, the respectable job. So when things felt off, I didn’t think burnout.
I thought maybe I was just tired… or maybe I needed to be more grateful.
But somewhere along the way, I had forgotten I was multifaceted.
That beyond being a professional, I was also a creative being.
That my ability to build and solve didn’t cancel out my need to dream and express.
That there were parts of me—quiet, colorful parts—asking to come alive again.
For years, I didn’t know I was in a fog—I just felt… disconnected.
The joy I once found in making things—journals, videos, even ideas—had dulled.
And I didn’t know what to call it until I gave myself permission to feel instead of force.
What helped me most wasn’t pushing—it was pausing.
Noticing. Naming.
Admitting, “I don’t feel like myself right now, and that’s okay.”
You don’t have to fix it right away.
But if you can feel it—really feel it—you’ve already taken the first step toward a reset.
🎥 Watch My Garden Reset
In this season of creative fog, even my garden reminded me of something deeper. I had to move some of my struggling tomato, basil and onion seedlings—not because I failed, but because they outgrew where they started.
👉 Watch the transplanting process on YouTube
Sometimes growth looks like letting go of what’s not thriving… and planting again anyway.
Gentle Creative Resets (That Don’t Involve a Screen)
Once I gave myself permission to feel instead of force, I realized I didn’t need more pressure—I needed more presence.
Not a productivity hack. Not another to-do list.
But small moments of stillness that reminded me I was human first—and creative second.
Let’s be honest, y’all…
We are living in a day and time where everything feels urgent.
It’s not just our work and families pulling on us anymore.
It’s the media. The politics. The social and spiritual injustices of the world.
They’re not just requesting our attention—they’re demanding it.
So when someone like me reaches back to a boss chick woman like you and says,
“Slow down.”
I’m not surprised by your surprise. Or your hesitation.
Because I get it.
We’ve trained ourselves to keep going, no matter what’s going on around us.
But sometimes the most radical, creative thing you can do… is stop.
Joy looks different for all of us. This season, these small things helped me remember who I was—beyond what I do.
Here are a few gentle resets that helped me come home to myself when inspiration felt far away:
Walk with No Agenda
Every day, I started going on short walks—not for steps, not for cardio, not for content.
Just to be.
To hear the birds singing in the trees. To notice the shift in the sky. To remember what the air feels like on my skin when I’m not rushing past it.
I didn’t bring a podcast. I didn’t use it as “thinking time.” I just let myself exist.
That’s it. And it was enough. Because movement, especially without expectation, is medicine.
Switch the Setting, Not the Habit
I didn’t give up journaling or my devotional time completely.
But I did stop trying to make it look like it always had.
Sometimes I wrote on the floor instead of at my desk. Sometimes I lit a candle and scribbled thoughts that made no sense. Sometimes I just sat in silence.
And in that change of setting—even when nothing “productive” came out—I found myself again.
The ritual wasn’t gone. It had just moved.
That moment reminded me of something I shared in this reflection on craving and clarity—sometimes what we reach for is just our body begging for gentleness.
Let Someone Else Speak for a While
When my own thoughts felt too loud and too tangled to untangle, I stopped trying.
I opened the Calm app. I played a guided meditation. I sat in therapy and let my counselor do the talking until I could find my own words again.
Because sometimes, the bravest thing we can do in the fog is receive.
Let someone else hold space for your healing while you rest in the quiet.
Return to Childlike Joy
You know what’s funny? A coloring book and a $5 pack of markers did more for my mental health than some of the big “reset” tools I thought I needed.
I bought a plant. I sang along to 2000s R&B while doing dishes. I rode a bike in a random neighborhood just because.
None of it had a deadline. None of it had to be posted.
It just felt good. And that was the point
Read (or Listen) Differently
I love books, but in this season? They were collecting dust.
I didn’t have the capacity to sit still and focus.
So I let go of the guilt and picked up audiobooks.
I listened while folding laundry or brushing my teeth.
And I gave myself credit for that. Because rest doesn’t always look like a weekend away. Sometimes it looks like letting the words come to you instead of chasing them.
These small acts reminded me of who I was before I became so obsessed with being useful all the time.
None of these were magic. But taken together, they created the space I needed to breathe again.
To see again.
To feel again.
And slowly… to believe that maybe the fog was lifting.
✨ Want to try this for yourself?
Download my free Foggy Days Journal Prompts—a gentle guide with 7 days of reflection to help you name the fog, reconnect with your joy, and breathe again.
Reconnecting with Your Why
One of the clearest signs I was coming out of the fog was that I started to remember why I ever wanted to create in the first place.
Not for content.
Not for engagement.
Not even for a business or a brand.
But for legacy.
For joy.
For healing.
For the version of me who used to doodle in the margins of her notebook, turning boredom into beauty.
For the little girl who loved arts and crafts—who lived for glue sticks, glitter pens, and puzzles spread across the floor.
The one who didn’t need a reason to create—just time, space, and a spark of curiosity.
And this isn’t just about “creative work” in the traditional sense.
This is for the woman who leads meetings all day and wonders where her voice went.
The one who’s built a beautiful life—and still feels like something’s missing.
The one who can’t remember the last time she did something for herself without explaining why she deserved it.
The one who checked every box and is just now realizing: I never actually asked myself what I wanted.
The fog had me so consumed with what I needed to do, I forgot why I signed up for this life in the first place.
And when I started reconnecting with that “why”—not the one that looked good on paper, but the one that lived deep in my bones—something shifted.
The weight didn’t disappear, but it started to feel lighter.
I stopped striving. I started listening.
And little by little, my spark returned.
Sometimes, reclaiming your why doesn’t look like a vision board or a perfect morning routine.
Sometimes it looks like driving in silence.
Or crying in the shower.
Or texting a friend, “I don’t know who I am outside of this job.”
It’s okay if you’re there.
It’s okay if your “why” feels buried beneath layers of obligation, exhaustion, and performance.
Because it’s not gone.
It’s just resting.
And when you’re ready, it will rise again.
You’re Still a Creator—Even in the Pause
There’s this lie that floats around in our culture—subtle, but loud:
If you’re not producing, you’re not progressing.
But I want you to know something that took me a long time to believe:
You’re still a creator, even when you’re not creating.
You are still worthy when your planner is blank.
You are still powerful when your output slows down.
And you are still you—even when all you can manage is one deep breath at a time.
This season may feel unproductive. But it’s actually incredibly sacred.
Because this is the space where you remember.
Where the noise fades. Where striving surrenders. Where you get to ask:
What if I could build a life that feeds me, not just one I have to keep feeding?
I wrote this because I needed the reminder, too.
That fog isn’t failure.
That stillness isn’t weakness.
And that healing your relationship with creativity is a radical act of self-love.
So if you’re in that space now—tired, foggy, unsure—I hope you’ll pause with me.
Final Reflection
So, if you're in the fog right now—feeling a little lost, a little muted—I want to leave you with this:
💭 Journal Prompt:
What part of me have I quieted in order to keep performing—and what would it look like to give her space again?
📥Ready to go deeper? Download the Foggy Days Journal Prompts—a free 7-day tool to help you gently reconnect with your voice, your vision, and your spark.
Hey girl, Hey
If you’re reading this and quietly nodding, maybe you’ve been carrying more than you realized. Maybe your spark didn’t disappear—it just got buried under everything you’ve been holding.
This post isn’t here to tell you to hustle your way back to creativity. It’s here to remind you:
You are more than your output.
You are more than your role.
You are still a creative being—even in the pause.
Take the walk. Light the candle. Pull out the glue stick and color again.
Not to produce—but to feel. To heal. To remember who you are underneath it all.
The fog will lift.
And when it does, you’ll be ready—not because you pushed, but because you gave yourself permission to rest.
Author’s Note
This piece is part of the Creative Self-Care series inside The Life More Journal.
It’s written for the woman who’s tired of performing and ready to reconnect—with her joy, her spark, and her deeper self.
If this resonated with you, you might also enjoy the story behind why I started this blog in the first place—it’s all part of my journey to reconnect with purpose, joy, and healing.
Want support as you reawaken your creativity and your health?
🌿 Let’s stay connected at: lifemorecoach.com
