This time of year has historically been a season of pressure for me…
The pressure to create something meaningful, to hold everything together, to make it ‘special’. And for several years now I’ve been trying, quite intentionally, to let some of that go. Much like my self-proclaimed mastery of ‘convalescing when poorly’ (a highly underrated art form which I recommend), I’ve been practising the skill of making space for myself.
Last week at the Art class I attend I asked the person next to me about their plans for the weekend…
The ‘big’ clean before putting up the Christmas tree.
Ten years ago, that would absolutely have been me.
But in the last few years I’ve experimented with doing as little as possible and simply noticing what happens – and it turns out that everything is more or less the same, except I’m far less stressed.
This year, though…
I may have taken things to the extreme by booking a full heating-system replacement.
In one of the coldest months.
With all the children at home.
And one child doing mock exams.
I booked it in Summer, in a moment of complete seasonal denial and I now the only way out is through…
The engineers have been wonderful. Honestly, I’ll miss them.
Yesterday I had to give myself a little reality check, because there we were, sitting in my bathroom discussing tanks and pipework, me perched on the closed toilet lid as if this was perfectly normal. After three days of their company, a familiarity had grown, it felt right.
I’ll miss their singing, their morning greetings to the cat, “Morning, Shadow!” and the way they role-play customer conversations with each other.
I’m learning a lot from how they find tiny glimmers of joy and creativity in the problem-solving, the drilling and, quite frankly, the chaotic mess.
Which leads me to the state of my house…
Dust.
Everywhere.
Dust sheets and plastic can only do so much. Everything has a light coating of debris and absolutely no sign of the “Winter deep clean chat” at Art class.
So here I am, sitting in the cold dirtiness of it all…
It’s about two weeks away from my winter holiday period and I’m thinking about The Wild Creative and I’m thinking about Tiny Art and I’m thinking about the story of Bluebeard and I’m thinking about The Omen Days and I’m thinking how easy it would be to say that this is all a bit too much.
And perhaps it is.
But I also know that finding small pockets of creative thought, those little doorways back to myself, those little squares on my page, helps me move through the chaos.
Doorways back to myself
So, partly to remind myself and partly in case it lands somewhere helpful for you, here’s how I plan to weave creativity (which is really just ‘me time with pens’) into a season that feels busy, messy, or simply… a lot for some.
📖 One place: my journal.
🖊️ One tool: a biro.
🎒 Keep it accessible: My favourite places are by the bed or in a bag (portable). Or wherever suits you, I know someone who keeps theirs by the kettle.
✨ Not daily: Just whenever the moment opens.
❄️ Move and get outside, if possible: Something about fresh air helps my brain untangle things. This week, the sky was on fire, so I wandered outside in my pyjamas, accompanied by the cat.
☕ Drawing in shops and cafés: I’ve started taking myself out and sketching in public spaces.
✨ It’s okay not to do anything. Truly.
Creating space at this time of year – feels like an art form in itself. A skill, even. One that takes practice, gentleness, compassion and occasionally a small act of rebellion.
I hope you find your own way into that space, whatever it looks like for you, wherever you are, and whatever this season means (or doesn’t mean) in your world.
Sally x