(#6) Creativity in overwhelm
Grief, rage, hope, courage + compassion for our inner critics
Dear readers of The Joy Rise,
If, like me, you haven’t felt ok in the last week, I hope there’s been a break in the sky for you by the time you read this. If not, I hope the break comes soon and gives you respite, to gather and hold your heart and mind, courage and resilience.
Something I’ve found myself reflecting on for the past few days has been the reminder that, of course, none of us live in vacuums: global news and events aren’t the only challenges and crises we’re processing and trying to integrate in our lives. In every moment of every unfolding news cycle, we’re also all living in the worlds of our own individual and communal circles, constantly needing to find our way through the twists and turns in each/both.
Navigating the stressors and challenges in my day to day life, and the lives of my loved ones, along with the enormity of world events can very quickly feel like it’s too much to manage. Particularly in light of the barrage of information at our fingertips on the internet / social media / our phones. It’s a feeling that still registers so vividly in my body from the pandemic. You might feel this too. In 2021, I read a Substack post from author, podcaster, and ordained Lutheran Pastor,
. Her words have stayed with me:…I just do not think our psyches were developed to hold, feel and respond to everything coming at them right now; every tragedy, injustice, sorrow and natural disaster happening to every human across the planet, in real time every minute of the day. The human heart and spirit were developed to be able to hold, feel and respond to any tragedy, injustice, sorrow or natural disaster that was happening IN OUR VILLAGE.
Later that same year I picked up a copy of research professor, storyteller and author, Brené Brown’s book, Atlas of the Heart, in which she explores the language we use for the emotions we feel, and how language can affect our experience of those emotions. At that time, end of 2021, I was particularly struck by her exploration of overwhelm, which she defined as ‘the extreme end of stress’, and referred to a quote by author and mindfulness teacher, Professor Jon Kabat-Zinn:
Overwhelm is the all too common feeling that our lives are somehow unfolding faster than the human nervous system and psyche are able to manage.
All of this has been swirling in my mind for the past week as I recognised that I wasn’t just stressed, I was in a state of overwhelm. (Which, for me, can also include nervous-system-frying post-traumatic-stress triggers that require extra resources and management - if this happens to you too, you’re not alone.)
I also recognised that in trying to manage overwhelm and keep working - at the moment this means continuing to develop and write a new novel which is contracted for publication - my inner critic has been more worked up than usual and coming out with some particularly harsh backlash. A sample of the inner critic narratives that I’ve noticed have been blasting in my mind throughout the last week:
You’re spending your time writing FICTION right now when there’s such ongoing horror and suffering in the world? Who are you to do this? How can you think writing a novel is a good way to serve anyone right now?
When I’m overwhelmed, the first thing that my inner critic is ready to target seems to be my creativity. It particularly loves tearing down the value / purpose / meaning / place that creativity has in ‘times like these’. Which I don’t believe. This is exactly the time when we need art most. Nevertheless, this can mean that my writing and other writing-related work come under attack, but also includes any imaginative effort that I might put into cooking, dressing, grocery-shopping, house-cleaning, being open-hearted with people, connecting with friends, family and community. It remains fascinating and boring to me that creativity, the very thing that gives me the strength and resilience to stay connected to my empathy, humanity, myself and to everyone who depends on me, is the first thing my inner critic tries to extinguish in times of overwhelm, rather than, say, the obligations of my To Do list.