Being lost in the fog, and how to come back
A post about getting lost, and the things that light the way back to our creative selves.
Something’s been going on with me for a while, and I’ve only just been able to articulate it - at least, a little. I’ve felt in a fog of not being off-track, with an unreliable compass, not sure how to navigate my way back to alignment.
I went back to work in February, following a year of maternity leave with my son. I live in the UK and was very lucky indeed to have this time with him. I was paid by the corporate company where I work in Marketing for three months, and then by the government (a bit) for another six. We made it work financially, and I got to see my son grow from a tiny, frog-legged, close-eyed baby to a giggly, opinionated, wild-haired toddler who has enough energy to power a small village.
I felt so all consumed by, and therefore connected to, caring for him during that year that upon my return to work I didn’t recognise the person who’d walked out of the office the previous year. But suddenly I was back, slap-bang in the middle of one of the busiest, most chaotic periods the company has ever faced. I liked being busy. It softened the pangs of missing my son, the close friendships I’d made and routines I’d grown accustomed to. And really, the busyness let me hide.
Six months later, I still don’t recognise the person who went on maternity leave - belly almost exploding at 40 weeks pregnant. But I don’t really recognise the person I am today either. Maybe I’m just not quite there yet, not fully formed. Becoming a Mum has been the source of many shifts and lots of reprioritisation, and has also taught me that things can and do change. But my younger selves have been calling back to me, reminding me of where we planned to go, and all the things we wanted to do.
Maybe it’s ok to not really know how I’m going to figure out a move into a life with more space to create in it? We can never really know what’s going to happen. I suppose I just need to pull up the anchor and set sail.
My lighthouses in this period of massive change and self-doubt have been:
Drawing in my sketchbook
As I talk about so often, drawing in my sketchbook is one of the best ways for me to centre and reconnect. But of course, I’ve been avoiding it. Why is it that the more we need something, the more we put it off? I did a drawing today while we were out, rather than go home for naptime, and immediately felt lighter.
Listening to music
Music transports us back in time, to what was happening when we first heard particular songs or albums. I’ve been listening to music that reminds me of my teenage years and twenties, to remember a time when I didn’t put limits on my creative life.
Walks in nature
Yes it’s a bit cheesy, but God does it work. If like me you live in a City, fear not - a park definitely counts. I think I’d have gone mad without our local park in lockdown (we didn’t have a garden at the time, like lots of people in London) and I am definitely someone who breathes a little easier when I can see some green and a patch of sky.
Time alone
I don’t really get this anymore with a toddler around. He even follows me into the loo! So now I try and take a snatch of time alone each week, where it’s just me in the house and I can hear myself a little more clearly.
Reading old journals
I have books of old notes about creative projects, things I studied, morning pages, bits of disconnected writing - all sorts. I found more in my old childhood bedroom - including an old diary from uni - and it was nostalgic and reaffirming to read what I was occupied with then was similar to now in terms of what I wanted to make. Sometimes I think about getting rid of some of them, but I’m glad I haven’t.
Time with friends
There are some friends who can make us feel so at ease that we can see ourselves almost more clearly after spending time together. A long walk or a meandering conversation with a good friend is a real tonic.
The sea
Has the eternal power to reset me even in the darkest of moods.
Right, I’m setting sail. I’ll let you know what I find on my journey, and hope I’ve packed enough teabags to last me until I reach shore again.
What do you do to reconnect during times of turbulence, change or doubt? I’d love to hear more in the comments.
Things I’m enjoying:
‘The Green Road’ by Anne Enright - evocative story of family set in Ireland and New York
‘Waiting for Froggo’ by Alice Courtley - my son finds it hilarious, as do I as someone who studied Drama at Uni
Other places you can find my work:
If you’re based in London, I’ll be at Maple Road Market in Penge on the 27th Septmeber. Come along for printed goods and live portraits
As always you can also support my work through my online shop. I’ll soon be releasing 2026 calendars - keep your eyes peeled!
My portfolio and past work is on my website if you want to have a nosey