When did my creativity die?
I used to make things all the time. I was always crafting. I had huge containers full of supplies, scraps and tools to create with. At any given time, I was in the middle of a project or making a gift for someone I knew. Hell, even on vacation at the shore, I’d bring my small box with “craft necessities” with me to do things while relaxing.
I can’t even remember when the last time was that I made something. I couldn’t tell you the last time I actually finished a project that I’d started.
|one of the candles I made|
Something about my marriage ending killed my craftiness. The last time I was really crafty and creative was when I was candle making. I was so into it I had a short-lived business venture of it. I would have never “started a business” at all if it weren’t for the rules of the town’s craft fair stating that you must be licensed as a business in order to participate in the craft fair. That was my goal, to be in a craft fair, even just once, just to know that I could do it and people would buy my wares. I worked so hard for two months every day making candles that looked like cupcakes up until the night before of the craft fair. I was proud of myself.
|some of my candles on display at the craft fair|
|me at the craft fair|
Then, that was it. I just was done. I realized I didn’t want to do that as a business because it took up so much of my time to try to make a profit, and I’d stopped enjoying what I was doing. After that, things just dried up, creatively. Months after the craft fair, my husband and I separated. After he moved out, I threw out a lot of things. I threw out my craft supplies because I never used them.
When I read “Bag of Bones” by Stephen King, and the main character had a problem with writer’s block, I identified with that because I feel as though I’ve been through some sort of “crafter’s block” or “artist’s block.” I used to love making things for people. Now I don’t feel like anyone even wants my gifts. I’m even pretty sure that my boyfriend wouldn’t like anything I made. You know the way when you get a card and you go oh that’s nice, you look at it for a few days, but eventually you just throw it out? That’s what I feel like anything that I make is. Everyone’s just looking at it like some kid’s stupid art project.
I see things. I want to make things. I don’t know how to start again. I’d literally have to start from the beginning by getting supplies again. I used to have a whole box full of different paints and brushes. I don’t even have one now. Sigh.