Rediscovering The Inner Artist

Growing up, I saw the world through the eyes of an artist.

I wrote on the walls, painted on any scrap of paper I could find, and turned my skin into a canvas.

In my mind, every inch of the world was worthy of color and shape, worthy of expression.
There was no idea that there was a “right” or “wrong” way to create.
I simply created, following an instinct that was as natural as breathing.

The act of creating was pure joy. My nails and toes were painted to bring color and magic into my day. The thought of beautifying myself for the attention others did not even cross my mind.
The quiet of a blank page or a blank wall would call to me. "Psst.. Don't we look bare? We need some life"
There was no judgment. In my scope of creation. Just pure, untainted desire to make something of my own.

But that childlike wonder was met with harsh correction. The adults around me told me I was destructive, unruly, disobedient.
My creativity was labeled a problem to be fixed. The walls I wanted to color became forbidden spaces.
My need to express became something to fear.
It became wrong and I believed that my desire was unworthy of love...

Yelling, slapping, punishments were the behaviors used to mold me into someone more acceptable.
I stopped writing on walls. I stopped doodling everywhere. I stopped painting outside the lines.
My creativity hid, afraid to be seen by the people who punished it.

Although my creative self was buried, there was a small hope that never died. That hope found ways to stay alive in the small creases of what was “allowed.”
In school art classes and music classes, in the quiet moments when no one was watching.
In those places, I could still breathe a little.
Though creating never felt quite the same.

I share this because I know I’m not alone.
So many of us were taught to silence our creative hearts. To trade our wild imaginations for the promise of approval.
But even when our creativity is crushed,
It never truly dies.
It waits for us.
It whispers, “I’m still here, if you’ll let me come alive again.”

Becoming aware of my inner artist means returning to that five-year-old who saw the world as a canvas.
Becoming aware means remembering that creativity is not about perfection or approval.
Creativity is about joy: about seeing the world with wonder and daring to leave your mark.

Today, I invite you to remember your own inner artist.

The part of you that once believed the world was yours to color.
Let them out.
Let them breathe.
Let them remind you that you are still, always, an artist.
No matter what the world said.

Here's a little practice to open your awareness..

“When I was a child, I expressed my creativity by…”
Close your eyes and remember those early moments of creating when you didn’t worry about whether it was “good enough.”

Write about what you loved to make, what materials you used, and how it felt in your body. Dive deep into the memory.
Then, reflect on what happened that made you stop. Notice the feelings that come up. Is it sadness, longing, maybe even a flicker of that early joy?
Let this be a space of gentle truth-telling, with no judgment.
Just you and your inner artist, remembering.

Looking to go deeper? 🌿
If you’re ready to reconnect with your inner child and find clarity in what you've lost, I invite you to explore my journal, Finding Your Clarity.
IYou can get your copy here.

Keep Exploring Your Creative Heart
Ready to rekindle your expression with more freedom?
I invite you to explore my Mindful Colouring book.
Explore your creative side with these adult colouring pages