Creativity - That’s Not a Thing!

A lesson in not having to give a reason

It’s 7:55 AM on a Monday morning following a typical, but quite intense, weekend of activities with the spawn, friends, and family ranging from multiple soccer games in the Florida heat, to new friend play dates, to floating down a spring water river to celebrate a cousin’s birthday, and to top it all off, an extended family dinner. A great weekend, it was, but it sure left us with the Monday morning scaries.

You guys know the drill. Waking children up at 7 AM to start the school week after the above may happily be substituted for a splinter removal or perhaps, our first go at a colonoscopy.

There is a crucial time period that we MUST be out of the home. If we miss it by a few minutes, I cannot drop the oldest child off at the pre-school-start program. The one we pay for, and the one that saves us approximately an hour of our time, every day, in avoiding drop off and pick up lines. Missing the cutoff time is completely unacceptable. The enneagram 1 in me falls into a fit of anger even thinking about potentially missing this drop off.

After a minor shoe catastrophe (the oldest had stepped in dog poo the night prior and his shoe, which slept outside overnight, still “smelled like it”), we miraculously made it out the door. The two oldest fought their way to school, where I happily bid farewell to my oldest.

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As I returned to the car, my middle child, angry that he had to return to school that day, made the intentional decision to turn on his birth mother.

“What do you even have to do today?”

Pause. Let’s reflect on why I felt compelled I needed to answer this accusatory question from a five year old.

“A lot of things, kiddo.” Since this would be one of my coveted days off from my “day job,” (I recently went part-time to try to maintain a little balance among the chaos), I started to rattle off chores: making dinner plans for the week, exercise, grocery store run, laundry, life coordination for all of you offspring, packing soccer bags, planning around 2 soccer practices this afternoon.

With great ambition, I added in “some reading and writing.”

He did not allow that to pass by untouched. I could feel the attack festering.

“Why do you need to do THAT?”

Again, I took the bait.

“Because… it’s my creative outlet.”

“THAT’S NOT A THING!”

The go-to emotion for an enneagram 1 is anger. I could feel myself migrate to this comfortable, albeit, unhelpful space. Breathe, I thought. He’s five.

I explain that, in fact, it is a thing. It’s a very important thing that is sometimes not recognized or appreciated in our culture. But it’s very much alive and crucial for people to live a well-balanced and peaceful existence. That yes, many adults claim to not understand it or address it, but we all have areas of our life that can feel untapped, wasted, or off kilter if we don’t practice them.

At this point, he had zoned me out and pivoted to appealing to the emotions. I listened to his feelings and we talked through it but I left that conversation with a deeper reflection wondering how we all got to be where we are today.

Yet another example—from later in the same week—of creativity without having to give a reason: I decided that I would be changing my hair at my next appointment. I would be returning to “fall red” and … gulp … would return to the bangs.

For context, the reader must be made aware that Alicia and I’s bangs (bestie- yes, I must submit her to unprovoked ridicule alongside me) are often thee topic when conversations of our pre-teen “gawky” stage are discussed. At the ages of 10 and 11 respectively, we each had cut a thick, straight bang and made a point to style said bangs into one tight curl that best resembles the shape of a mini Swiss cake roll and subsequently plaster said roll with 1/2 a can of Aquanet hairspray. Legend has it you could hang off “monkey bars” from the perfect curl shape of my bang as the hook, and the curl wouldn’t crack.

I’ve also returned to the bang a number of times in my adult years. Shockingly, I found the first year of motherhood and the first year after having my second child to be a brilliant time to bring ‘em back. Let’s complicate my life in the midst of chaos, shall we?!

However, it’s now been a minute since I’ve rocked the bang (four years or so) because one would think I’ve learned my lesson. But you know what? I wanted the creative shift of a new coif. And boy, did I want that forehead accessory back!

I arrived to my goddess of a hair colorist, sat down in her chair, and explained I wanted the bangs.

She took a moment, then, the experienced and thoughtful response:

“Are we going through something in our lives?” as she calmly placed her hands on my shoulders. Hair stylists truly have heard it all. They should double-major as a therapist and bill for two unique, but combined, visits.

I belly-laughed. Aren’t we always?! I mean, I dropped a butter knife from the top of the fridge onto my middle toe that morning. It had its own pulse that day and was swelling by the minute. I do have three children and had just spent the better part of a “hurricane day” with them as a highly sensitive individual who is easily  overstimulated. But not going through anything world-rocking at the moment.

“Not that I know of... Oh! I did go through something. Something positive. I went to Taylor Swift’s The Eras Tour!”

“Ahhhhh…” she responds as she plays with my half-head-of-hair (another lovely side effect of post-child bearing stage).

The wizard that she is, my colorist walks me through her recommended version of the change that I wanted. She explains that the T. Swift straight, thick bang would revert me back to the awkward pre-teen Swiss cake roll look due to something called my facial structure. I didn’t really see the problem with this, as truth be told, I still think those bangs had an ass that wouldn’t quit. She told me I was going for “Cowboy Copper” red tones, and showed me a picture of the red and a calmer version of the T. Swift fringe.

Perfect, I thought. I’ve known this woman long enough to trust her creative decisions on my behalf. She takes the unrealistic madness that I ramble off and weaves it into locks of gold every. Single. Time.

Foil, shears, gloss come out. A couple hours later I have been transformed from this:

To this:

(If you feel the before was better than the after, welp, please refrain from commenting, and also, kindly leave)

It’s fun to return home with a new ‘do ever since my husband heard Elizabeth Gilbert mention (and I’m paraphrasing here): “If your woman comes home with a totally new hairdo, be prepared, because you’re about to be dumped!” With one swift change (see what I did there?), I can usually evoke some emotion from the equanimities of his personality. And that’s just plain fun!

In all seriousness, the willingness to change hair style, color, cut up is, for me, a piece of the formula that creates an interesting and curious life. It’s a nudge to the individual to branch out, to get unstuck from the routine. It’s a reminder, every time we look in the mirror, that we can be change-makers and also, simply playful again.

What were the activities that you did, or dreamed about, as a child that you may no longer do? In between twice daily sessions in front of the bathroom mirror with the curling iron on level 10 for optimal bang rollage, I remember walking around my house in California with a notebook, begging my mom to critique my “Advanced Reader Copy” of the first few chapters of my book (which, from memory, was an amateur version of “The Babysitter’s Club” series). I could also be found observing the behaviors of our neighbor boy across the street with my little sister, and documenting my findings in a journal. There are a plethora of unfinished diaries lying about, ranging from age eight to now, describing in painful detail, the events of band practice. Writing/observing has clearly been a natural draw for me.

What is it for you?  And does it make you feel good to carve out the time and energy to contribute to your creative cause? Or, do you feel guilty based on some societal “standard” or expectation that you should be producing, doing, developing something else? Do you feel you need to justify your artistic hobby or career?

Do we think we should combine our creative efforts with the concept of work? How messy can it be to marry the two? Or, is it best, as Liz Gilbert has told us, to maintain a separate job from our passion?

Let us know in the comments!

Speaking of creativity and doing things for the pure joy of it, we are loving Sandra Ann Miller ’s A Sassy Little Substack. She covers all topics surrounding this space with great humor and honesty. Check out her work!

P.S. After referencing Elizabeth Gilbert twice in the above article, I received a notification that she is joining the Substack community! How exciting! Welcome Liz

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