Turning 30: Remembering My Inner Artist

Last week I turned 30 years old. Hot diggity dog. I know I’m not alone when it comes to being utterly reflective around your birthday. These past few weeks have been accompanied by a constant stream of reflection, turning inwards, and pondering the passage of time. In many ways I felt as though I was somehow too okay with the thought of turning 30. Each time I was asked my emotions surrounding this milestone, I felt that I should have more concrete thoughts about what it meant to me.

I slowly unraveled this pondering, allowing the lessons of nature to reveal themselves to me. This past year has been marked by the most internal transformation of my life. One year and three weeks ago I was in a mountain biking accident that would ultimately change my life in more than one way. For the first few months my world was consumed by the physical and emotional trauma of the accident, along with physical limitations that upended my daily life. With the loss of movement also came the loss of my once fragile identity; my ‘outdoorsyness’ and by extension, my career as a writer. And with this death came new life. By the time winter arrived I was able to gain back some of my autonomy, giving me a sense of freedom and motivation to return to my old life.

But I quickly realized that something had changed within me. Not only was my body weak, but my mind and soul had also shifted. Now, six months later, I finally feel able to put words to these emotions.

While journaling about the one year anniversary since my accident, I noticed a little green caterpillar slowly climbing up my leg. What a symbolic moment to beautifully represent this transformation. I’ve come to look at big life challenges and changes, whether they are planned or thrust upon me, as a cocoon. After my accident I was symbolically in a cocoon, dreaming of what life had looked like before I entered this wintering. At times it felt as if I would never return to ‘normal’, and in some ways I was right. When I began to feel like myself again, I was unaware that I had exited the cocoon. I thought that I could, would, and should return to life as if nothing had happened, unaware that I had grown wings and with them a new perspective on life.

Throughout my life I have had the pleasure of many individuals telling me how creative I am. I would politely thank them saying “Oh, I’m just crafty”, quietly thinking that I was no true artist. The ‘just’ poignantly reminding myself that my creativity was not something worth celebrating.

But once I exited my figurative cocoon, I began to listen to my heart, my soul, my inner child. I reconnected with childhood hobbies, buying soccer shoes, playing on my Nintendo DS, and finally purchasing the art supplies I had unknowingly been denying myself. With each creative project I became more sure of myself and my abilities; recognizing what this part of me was, an artist.

I have long avoided ever identifying as an artist, feeling that it was too cringe to say out loud. But for the past year I have slowly begun taking my art more seriously. I at last saw how neglected my inner child, my inner artist, had been. I nurtured her and now give her the patience, love, and freedom she craves. And with this support I was finally able to explore this part of myself that I had once forgotten.

My office began transforming into an artist studio, and I started giving myself permission to simply create. I let go of overly worrying about how it looked and instead I began to focus on how it felt. When I surrendered to the present moment, and accepted that I had changed during this past year, I found myself, my soul, my inner artist

I realized that no one would magically come into my life and force me to take my art seriously. That sort of action had to come from within, and with time, it slowly has. For so long I had an idealized artist version of myself in mind: how I would dress, speak, create, what my art would look like, and a whole slew of other ideas, always just out of reach. But this vision was simply made of pieces I saw in others, perhaps as a form of admiration or unknowingly trying to emulate their artistic energy.

On my 30th birthday I wrote the following words:

I feel more myself than ever before - with each passing year comes more wisdom, more surety in who I am and what I believe in. The influence of others and being perceived, once a tight grip has become slack, allowing for true authenticity to shine through. With this knowledge comes strength, strength that has always been there, only now I can see it, recognize it, and celebrate it.

Through true rest I noticed and remembered what I had long forgotten, true art comes from within. My confidence in myself and my abilities has never been stronger than when I turned 30 years old. I am unafraid to uncover the truest version of my ever-evolving inner artist, how I relate to this world, and to share these thoughts, feelings, and emotions through a medium, all the while having the courage to be disliked and misunderstood.

How I want to share my art has been its own process, one that I am still figuring out. I am reminded that artistic creativity does not need to be shared with anyone, nor does it have to fit into a certain box. As of now, I am working on illustrations for a children’s book I am publishing and continually allowing myself the artistic freedom I had long forgotten.

As I enter this new decade, may I continue to try and not be swayed by the potentiality of failure. May I never take life too seriously and never stop creating.

A final note, from my inner child to yours:

For she will always be a part of me, may she lie within me and find a soft and mossy place to rest, express and experience life. May I always ensure she is safe within the cocoon of artistic freedom and unconditional love.