I'm Tired of Being the Creative One

Especially when the creativity is gone.

Ambitious. Determined. Smart. Unique. Creative.

It sounds like one of the answers to a multiple choice question of how your friends would describe you to find out which Frappuccino is most like you.

But recently, sadly, I’m tired of being the creative one.

Not in a dramatic, throw it all away kind of way (or maybe I am). Just in that worn-down, tapped-out, “I’ve given everything and I’m still expected and want to give more” kind of way.

If that makes sense?

For most of my life, I’ve been that person. I’ve been the one with the ideas. The one who makes things. The one people turn to when something needs a spark or to work out their own creative ideas.

It’s not that I hate it. Actually, I really don’t hate it. It’s actually a part of me I’ve always loved. But what people don’t talk about is how exhausting it is to be expected to be that creative person all the time and not be able to describe myself as anything else, because the creative one is all I’ve ever wanted to be as well.

And right now? I haven’t been writing.

I haven’t been creating the way I want to.

I haven’t felt like myself.

I’ve tried everything the internet and my constant inner critic suggests I do in hopes of a fix. I’ve gone on walks, attempted to explore journaling, brain dumps, creative rituals, morning pages, letting myself write or attempt to write bad first drafts, rest, podcasts, caffeine, no caffeine, even digital detoxes that have hurt the promotion of my other books.

Everything.

Seriously, you name it.

I keep looking for the switch that will turn the light back on. But it’s not a light switch sadly. And it’s more than a little terrifying, because when your creativity is a core part of your identity, a rut doesn’t feel like a break.

It feels like a failure.

People don’t always get it. If you’re “the creative one,” the “writer,” they assume the ideas just flow. They don’t see how heavy it gets. They don’t see how much pressure lives behind the things we make. They don’t see the invisible guilt of not producing, or the shame spiral that starts when every fix fails.

I’m tired. Yet I’m still here. Still trying and hating it the whole way along which makes me even more upset about it all.

If you’re here too. If you’re burnt out, creatively blocked, or just feeling completely done— you’re not alone.

Promise.

Sometimes showing up and being honest is the most creative thing we can do.

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If you’re also stuck in the creative mud, here are a few weird little writing exercises that might shake something loose both from me and from others.

No guarantees, but they’re more fun than another round of “You feel like you can’t write? Just write anyway!”