When I was young I was innately creative, and I believed in it. I knew that I could find answers to crazy problems.
This is me. At about 18 months. I was proud. And happy. Self-satisfied. This might have been the height of my self-respect, and I am sure it was the beginning of my early creative peak.
When I was young I was innately creative, and I believed in it. I knew that I could find answers to crazy problems. I felt safe in ideation and innovation. I was an artist and the author of my future.
And then judgement crept in. From the outside. From inside of me. I began to crush my creative nature like a tin can trying to fit in. Desperate to integrate, I denied my artistic tendencies and declared myself a “smart girl”. I worked for honor roll and AP classes. I was in the top 1% of my collegiate graduating class. And I was hollow, sad, and unfulfilled.
It wasn’t easy and it was very expensive (but not as expensive as losing my soul). I rebuilt my career from the bottom up. And I was happy. I made professional connections with people who believed in me and I spoke up. I got to work with companies like Microsoft and HP at the top of their business. Eventually, I started my own brand agency. And when I was ready for another change, I knew how to lean into my innate creativity, to dig deep, and to actualize my career as a behavioral strategist, a coach, and an author.
I know that little girl again. I believe in my creativity and I know what it can do for me. I am creative – and I always will be.