My Motivation for Creating in 2020
Today I’m sharing a personal update and a big motivating factor behind the art I’ve created this year. More than ever, creating has been an escape and therapeutic outlet for me. I’ve been more consistent with sharing what I’m working on (and actually making art) than ever before, and have been exploring new and different media this year. One reason for that is because I’ve had more time to do so while staying home amidst the coronavirus pandemic. Another reason is because I’ve needed an outlet amidst one of the most difficult and painful seasons I’ve encountered: infertility.
It used to make me cringe to think of sharing this struggle publicly and I’ve been debating whether to share for a while – I even made a pros and cons list. I’m nervous about the cons, but the pros outweigh them in the end. It’s been a process to understand and accept the reality of the situation; I didn’t realize until it became my story how much grief is tied to infertility. I haven’t wanted to share sooner because I’ve needed to do a LOT of processing to get to a place where I can talk about it much at all. My faith, identity, sense of self worth and belonging, the confidence I’ve worked hard to build – they’ve all taken a turn on a wild roller coaster of ups and downs. There are a lot of lies I’ve believed without even realizing it, and hard ideas I’m wrestling with that may or may not be true. I’ve had some really ugly moments, as recently as last week. Looking back, I can see how much I’ve grown and am also confident I have a lot more processing and growth to go. One of the ways I’ve found life-giving to deal with that is through creative expression and connection. Painting, design, illustration, photography. Journaling. Music. Reading. Conversation. Prayer.
I didn’t realize until it became my story how much grief is tied to infertility.
The reason I started painting back in April was as a way to cope with the crushing discouragement and shock I felt at the diagnosis Tommy and I each received in mid-March, along with the slowing down of the testing process due to the global pandemic and the need to stay-at-home. The day before I started working from home and things started to shut down, we learned that we would each require surgery to have a shot at natural conception, and even then it might not be possible. This news hit me hard. Cue the shock, then the tears, then the questions, then the anger. Many nights after work – using all the free time I suddenly found myself with – I started painting with my noise-cancelling headphones in and worship music on. Painting that first canvas morphed into painting more canvases, painting bottles, digital illustration, and photography… accompanied by lots of questions and processing.
As I’ve cycled through the stages of grief (a lot of anger and depression), my faith has been challenged and also, maybe surprisingly, strengthened. To be honest, up til now I really haven’t been joyful in hope, patient in affliction, or faithful in prayer (Romans 12:12). Like many of the things I’ve lettered in the past, I share those words as a reminder and encouragement for myself as much as anyone else.
But, I don’t want to wait for the hard part to be over to talk about what God is doing in my life. At the end of the day, I believe he has a plan for my life, and it’s good. Whatever that means. There will be hard seasons in life, it’s never promised that there won’t be - but God does promise to be with us through them. I’ve been learning to focus on gratitude during this season and am thankful for my husband, family, close friends, and several older, wiser people in my life who have helped me process and see things through a different perspective.
Still, it feels like a big risk to share something so personal. So, why am I?
It’s sad – heartbreaking – that there’s so much shame and loneliness attached to infertility. I’m tired of holding it in like some big shameful secret. I needed space to process that for a while. But, one of the pros on my list is that I’ve felt encouraged by the honesty and vulnerability I’ve seen in others – it makes me feel less alone and reminds me there are so many more stories out there than mine. I hope that sharing my story might encourage other people in a similar space. And, I think there’s something beautiful in letting go of walls I’ve built and asking for prayer and support.
I also want to say that if you’re going through something similar (or something difficult in general), please feel free to reach out. I’m happy to listen and support and pray for you, as much as I know I need that too. 2020 has been a difficult year for many people and if you’re struggling, know that you are not alone. ❤️