Embracing Your Creativity: A Release for Big Emotions

For a long time, I never thought of myself as a creative person. I always assumed creativity belonged to art—painting, drawing, sculpting, crafting. I was never good at those things. I was the girl who would end up with paste all over my hands just so I could peel it off. A soothing stim, I now realize. Even then, that was more interesting to me than the actual art projects themselves.

Looking back, I think I already knew I experienced things differently. I just didn’t have the language for it yet.

I could barely cut a straight line. I couldn’t draw anything other than a couple of mountains. I couldn’t even fold construction paper as well as others. Everything was messy, off-center, and never felt like something worth praising. It made me question whether I had any talent at all.

For a long time, I believed I was talentless. I couldn’t see anything in myself because I saw others being so effortlessly good at things. I kept thinking, “Why can’t I just have one thing that I’m good at?”

Sure, I was great at baseball, soccer, and basketball—but those were sports. I wanted something more than physical ability. I wanted something that felt like expression. Something that felt like me.

My self-doubt has always held me back. I tend to put myself down in areas where I see others excel. It’s hard not to feel that way when your strengths don’t look like everyone else’s.

But there was always one thing I came back to: writing.

I remember being in 2nd grade, writing a short creative story in class. My teacher pulled me aside afterward and told me how good it was—and that I should consider becoming a writer. That moment meant something to me. It meant I was seen as someone other than the shy girl in class. It stayed with me in a way I didn’t fully understand at the time, but it mattered.

Even as I continued through school, I had teachers recommending me for higher writing programs. It wasn’t just encouragement—it felt like they saw something in me that I couldn’t yet see in myself. Something worthy of being noticed. And in many ways, those moments helped guide me toward a career in journalism.

I remember being excited to write essays and stories for class. It was where I felt most comfortable, because speaking wasn’t my forte—writing was.

I’ve also used writing as an outlet my entire life. It has truly been the only way I know how to release all the pent-up emotions I carry.

Recently, I turned to my blog to express my feelings about friendships. I was navigating something sensitive and hard to put into words out loud. I would have been open to a conversation to clear the air, but I was met with judgment instead. A friend criticized me for expressing my feelings online, and it hurt more than I expected. Not only was I rejected, I felt dismissed.

Even when I’ve been judged or misunderstood for it, I’ve kept going. Because this is mine. And I refuse to let anyone take that away from me for their own comfort.

I also have big emotions. I have a sensitive heart, and I’m often inside my head overthinking everything—replaying moments, analyzing conversations, feeling everything deeply and all at once. Even small things can sit with me longer than they should, building up in my mind until they feel heavier than they looked on the surface.

I’ve learned that writing is where all of that goes. It becomes an outlet—a place to release what builds up before it becomes too heavy to hold. It’s not about being “artsy.” It’s about expression—making sense of what lives inside me when it feels like too much to keep in.

Creativity, to me, is awareness, intuition, depth, and the ability to translate complex emotions into something real. Those are things I’ve learned to value in myself.

At the end of the day, I don’t create because I’m trying to be good at something. I create because my feelings are too big to keep inside.

When your emotions feel too big to hold inside, what helps you release them in a way that feels safe, honest, and true to you?

“Feelings are much like waves, we can’t stop them from coming but we can choose which ones to surf.” — Jonatan Mårtensson