Living between art and multiple sclerosis
There is something about having a space that feels like ours. It doesn’t have to be a room or be beautifully arranged. It doesn’t even have to be a permanent place.
Sometimes, it is simply a chair by a window. A corner of a table with a notebook beside a cup of coffee. A few art supplies gathered together. A quiet place where, for a little while, no one is asking anything of us.
And perhaps what makes that space special isn’t really the space itself. Perhaps it’s how we feel when we’re there.
What makes a space feel like yours?
We often think about creative spaces in very visual terms. A beautiful studio. A well-organized desk. Shelves filled with materials. Natural light. Everything in its place.
And there is nothing wrong with any of that.
But a creative space doesn’t have to look a certain way to become meaningful. It can be a small corner of your home. It can be the kitchen table after everyone else has gone to bed. It can be a sketchbook you keep in your bag. Or even a few minutes in your day when you give yourself permission to make something without worrying about whether it is good.
Because perhaps a creative space isn’t defined by what surrounds us. Perhaps it is defined by what becomes possible inside us when we enter it.
A place where you don’t have to perform
I think this is one of the reasons creativity feels so personal to me.
When we create, there isn’t always a right answer. A painting doesn’t have to explain itself or be beautiful. A color doesn’t have to make sense. A first attempt doesn’t have to become a finished piece.
There can simply be room to explore. And that kind of freedom matters.
Especially when so much of everyday life asks us to perform in one way or another. To be productive. To be capable. To have answers. To keep going.
A creative moment can offer something different. A place where you don’t have to prove anything.
You can simply be curious. You can try. You can change your mind and begin again.
The little things matter
Sometimes, what makes a creative moment feel special isn’t the activity itself. It’s the details around it. A favorite pen. A particular cup. A scent that makes you feel at home. A piece of music playing quietly in the background. The feeling of paper beneath your hand. A color you always seem to reach for. Something beautiful nearby.
These things may seem small.
And yet, they can change the way we enter a moment. They can tell us, quietly:
You can stay here for a while.
And maybe that’s what we’re really creating. Not just a physical space. But permission.
Permission to slow down and listen. To notice. To make something. To simply be.
Making room for yourself
I’ve learned that creating doesn’t always begin with knowing what I want to make. Sometimes, it begins by making room. Room on the table. Room in my thoughts. Room for an idea that hasn’t fully formed yet. Room for something unexpected.
That’s part of what I recognize in Becoming Through Courage.
When I look at her, I don’t see a woman trying to become someone else. I see someone who has made room for who she is now, while still allowing something new to emerge. There is a quiet sense of being present in herself. Not because everything has been figured out. Not because the journey has been easy.
But because she no longer needs to wait for everything to make sense before allowing herself to take up space. And perhaps that is what a creative space can offer us, too.
Not a place where we have to become someone different. A place where we can meet ourselves as we are.
What would make a creative moment feel special to you?
Maybe it’s having the right materials nearby. Maybe it’s music. Maybe it’s a beautiful object. Maybe it’s writing something by hand. Maybe it’s having a few minutes without interruptions. Maybe it’s receiving something that gives you an idea to explore. Or maybe it’s something I haven’t thought of at all.
There is no right answer.
What makes a moment meaningful will be different for each of us.
And that’s exactly what makes the question interesting.
A small invitation
This week, I want to invite you to think about your own creative space.
It doesn’t have to be a studio. It doesn’t have to be permanent. It doesn’t even have to exist yet.
Just imagine it for a moment.
What would be there?
What would you see?
What would you hear?
What would you hold in your hands?
What would make you want to stay?
And most importantly:
What would make that moment feel like it belongs to you?
You don’t have to create the whole space today.
Maybe simply noticing what you would want is enough.
Because sometimes, creating a space for ourselves begins long before we move a single chair.
It begins when we recognize that we deserve a place where we can simply be.
If you want to keep exploring
The Blooming Through Change Toolkit is another invitation to create a little space for yourself: a space to pause, reflect, and listen to what may be asking for your attention.
You don’t need to arrive with answers. You can simply begin where you are.
And I’d love to hear from you:
