Let's Talk About Healing, Recovering Joy, and Creativity [For All of Us]
Q: What do we do when a healing creative practice becomes heavy with grief, exhaustion, or disappointment? How can creativity connect us with joy?
A Note Before We Begin
If you've been with me for a while, some of what I’m about to share may sound familiar. I often return to these parts of my story because they have shaped not only who I am but also how I understand creativity, healing, and joy. For others, this may be the first time you're encountering me or these parts of my story (hi, you’re welcome here!). Either way, I invite you to join me in reading this essay—because, ultimately, it contains an invitation for you.
A Life of Deaths and Resurrections
I once pursued my dreams full of idealistic hope.1
Before graduating from high school, I applied to art school, chasing the dream of becoming an artist. But I was rejected. With those hopes dashed, I decided on a more practical route and became a biology major at the University of Illinois. But I quickly realized I wasn’t cut out for a career in the sciences (learning that just because you can be good at something doesn’t mean you should do it). I switched my major to undecided and, after a period of exploration, settled on a compromise between my artistic and practical self—an option between dreams and reality.
I returned to my love of stories and language and became an English major—with the intention of becoming an educator (like my parents and aunts before me). I thought I had made peace with weaving my artistic dreams into this more sensible path and found great joy in being of service to others as a language arts teacher.
Fast forward to starting a family, I found myself in another season of naive optimism and happily-ever-after dreaming. Grief wrecked me when my first child was born with a fatal disorder that took her life when she was one month old. I had no creative practice to turn to—no outlet for the enormity of what I was carrying other than lament.2
In time, I found my way back to writing. Not as a craft. Not as a career. Not for an audience. Just as a way to survive.
Writing became a practice that held me through unimaginable pain and helped me stay tethered to Hope.
But even as writing became a refuge and a life-giving practice, there were times when it lost its joy. When I began to pursue publishing, the internal and external pressures to write the right way or the right kind of story or to grow a platform made writing feel heavy and painful. What I had once enjoyed now felt exhausting. I had no idea how much writing—or, more specifically, the publishing journey with its rejections—would mirror past griefs and poke at wounds still tender to the touch.
People often ask me how I discovered my love of oil pastels or what led me to become an oil pastel artist. Well, this is the origin story. The answer is the same as how I found my way back to writing, too: out of necessity and a stubborn refusal to quit on myself, though at times I was tempted.
Writing wasn’t fun or life-giving anymore, so what was?
I gave myself permission to explore different creative mediums and embrace play. As I rekindled my creativity, I found the practice that broke me free from perfectionism and brought me to life once more.
In a season of deep exhaustion and anxiety, oil pastels gave me a way to express what felt too big for words in ways other mediums didn’t. I found release, flow, and renewal as I painted.3
As I returned to my art, something unexpected happened—I found my way back to writing, too. I discovered that my prose and pastels had a symbiotic relationship.4 They nourished and inspired one another—and offered creative sustainability.
One of the most uplifting, joy-filled, creative moments in my creative recovery journey is captured in the photo at the start of this essay. It’s an overhead shot of creative objects I had collected for a photoshoot. I had finally found the courage to call myself a writer and an artist. I was taking my creativity seriously—and having so much fun.
And yet, when I look at that photo now, I chuckle. There’s a wooden bowl on the right that, if you look closely, has a sad face in it—can you see it?
Sometimes, even the creative practices that once felt like sources of joy or renewal end up filling us with sadness. We burn out. We set them aside. Or we abandon them altogether—burdened by the expectations we place on ourselves, fears that our creativity doesn’t matter, or the belief that it’s a luxury we can’t afford.
Maybe you recognize yourself somewhere in this story.
Maybe there was a time when a creative practice was like a saving grace or healing path. Or maybe when one offered pure, childlike joy. Maybe for you, it’s been journaling, writing, painting, music, or movement—whatever it’s been, it’s helped you feel alive. Or maybe you, like me, have gone through seasons where your creative practice has felt heavy, exhausting, or lost beneath the weight of grief, perfectionism, or fear.
Where are you right now?
Do you feel connected to your creativity, or do you feel far from it?
What creative practice has brought you joy in the past?
What would it look like to reclaim that joy?
Let’s Talk About Recovery
Writing and creativity are healing practices—and they can also bring us joy. Creative practices have a way of (re)awakening our hearts, minds, and spirits in life-giving ways. As you now know, I know what it’s like to lose and recover my creativity and my joy—and not in a fake “flourishing” kind of way, but authentically, in a life-giving way.
If your creative practice feels like that sad face—tired, discouraged, or disconnected—I want to invite you into something new.
What if I could help you reimagine, recover, and reconnect with joy in your writing or creative life?
Coming Soon: The Spring Sessions
A 6-week journey to restore joy in your creative life.
I created the Spring Sessions—a 6-week group coaching program to help you cultivate a joy-filled creative practice this spring.5
If you’ve felt disconnected from creativity or joy—because of grief, burnout, perfectionism, or fear—this space is for you.
Together, we’ll meet for live coaching sessions once a week (April 14- May 19) to explore creative blocks, heal creative wounds, rediscover creative flow, and cultivate sustainable, life-giving creative rhythms.
What’s Included:
✔️ Live group coaching & creative support (weekly 90-minute sessions)
✔️ Guided readings, prompts, and exercises to connect with your practice
✔️ A nurturing space to create, explore, and grow
✔️ A small, intimate community (5–10 people)
✔️ A signed copy of The Artist’s Joy + a signed art print from me6
✔️ Exclusive Q&A with author Merideth Hite Estevez
Doors open early tomorrow, Tuesday, March 18th, with special early bird pricing that ends next week. Paid Substack subscribers (and subscribers to my email list) will get the link for early enrollment emailed to them first. This post is now updated with that link: https://kristinvanderlip.myflodesk.com/springsessions.
With all that being said…
If your heart is tugging at you—if you’ve been waiting for the right time to reconnect with your creativity and recover joy, I hope you’ll consider joining me!
—Kristin
Let me know what questions you might have in the comments.
Journal Invitation
If this resonates, I encourage you to explore the questions above along with these in your journal:
Have I lost my connection to joy or my passion for journaling, writing, or other creative practice? If so, what's been getting in the way?
When I think of the words joy, creativity, artist, renewal, or reawakening, what comes to my mind is…
Take some time to explore these prompts this week—and if you feel like sharing, I’d love to hear what comes up for you!
Heck, sometimes I still do. And there’s no shame or wrong here.
Lament is such a powerful, powerful, human and spiritual practice. I’m not sure one can create without first lamenting if you’re in a season of grief. Discover the journal for lament I created to support you: https://kristinvanderlip.com/rest.
Learn more about and view my art at KristinVanderlip.com/Art.
My journey also includes becoming a certified writing coach with over 5 years of experience.
Learn more about The Artist’s Joy here: https://artistsforjoy.org/book.
Thank you for this story. It was helpful. I’ve been doing some creative work and putting it out there with little acknowledgment so I’ve began questioning if the timing was right or I was doing something I shouldn’t be doing. Your post reminded me that the joy I’m getting out of this creative process is enough. Strings don’t have to be attached because there is so much more happening that isn’t seen on the outside.