Growing up, I was told I was ‘gifted’ in everyday creativity for highly sensitive people through art. It felt like something to live up to—a badge of honor that I didn’t quite know what to do with. Objectively, sure, I could draw or paint pretty well, and I even won a scholarship to a local art college. But deep down, something about it never felt like mine.
Let me tell you about the piece that won me that scholarship. It was a linoleum block print—a technique where you carve into a piece of linoleum, ink it, and then press it onto paper. I decided to carve out a musical staff, carefully etching each line and note into the block. But I forgot one crucial detail: when you print something from a block, the image gets reversed. My musical staff came out backward.
In a panic, I decided to call the piece Behind the Music, turning my mistake into something that seemed intentional. People thought it was clever, even profound. But here’s the thing—it wasn’t. It was an accident, a moment of making do with what I had. Everyone praised me for my creative genius, but I didn’t feel like a genius. I felt like someone who got lucky with a mistake.
And yet, there I was, being told I was special for something that didn’t even feel authentic.
I’ve had a similar relationship with music. I played a bunch of instruments growing up (okay, a lot of instruments—my high achiever side coming through), but I knew, deep down, that music wasn’t my thing. I could play well enough, but my heart wasn’t in it. It was just something I did because I was good at it.
Interestingly enough, music still played a significant role in my life. It’s how I met my now-married partner. We likely wouldn’t have crossed paths without our shared experiences in a band. But even then, music was a means to an end, not a true outlet for my creativity.
What I’ve learned is that creativity isn’t about being the best or creating something that other people deem special. It’s not about winning awards, being labeled ‘gifted,’ or making something impressive. At its core, creativity is about expressing yourself in a way that feels real to you.
Take sewing, for example. I like to sew my own clothes. Nothing fancy—just regular t-shirts, pants, or the occasional jacket. Here’s the thing: if you saw one of the t-shirts I made, you’d probably never know it was handmade. It looks like something you could buy at a store. But I know I made it. I know I put in the effort, the time, and the attention to detail. And while it may look simple or ordinary to someone else, it was a creative outlet for me.
Sewing is where I let my mind wander, where I get into a flow, and where I feel a sense of accomplishment, even if no one else notices. It’s not about the result—it’s about the process.
That’s the shift I want to focus on here: creativity doesn’t need to result in masterpieces or anything noteworthy. Sometimes, creativity looks like a regular t-shirt that no one notices. And that’s perfectly okay.
For a long time, I believed that being creative meant being great at something. Art, music, dance—these were things I was ‘good’ at, and I was supposed to create things that wowed people. But what I’ve learned over time is that creativity is more about the process than the product. It’s about what happens inside you while you’re creating, not what comes out at the end.
I used to think I had to prove myself creatively—to live up to that ‘gifted’ label I’d been given. It felt like pressure, like I wasn’t doing it right if I wasn’t producing something that people admired.
But then I found writing. And even more specifically, poetry. Writing and poetry became outlets where I didn’t have to impress anyone. I could just be me—imperfect, messy, and vulnerable. I didn’t have to create something ‘worthy’ of recognition; I just had to let myself feel and express.
Poetry, for me, is where the magic happens. It’s where I feel most free to express without the weight of other people’s expectations. The emotions aren’t forced like they were with music or art. When I write, I’m not thinking about whether it’s good enough or if someone will like it. I’m simply allowing the creative process to unfold. And in that space, creativity feels real.
Here’s the thing: creativity doesn’t always show up in the form of a painting, a poem, or a song. Creativity can be found in the most unexpected places. It can be in the way you decorate your home, the way you cook, or how you solve problems at work. Creativity might be in your garden, your woodworking project, or yes, even in the simple act of sewing a regular t-shirt.
We all have creative energy within us, and it doesn’t have to be ‘noteworthy’ to be valid. You don’t need to be ‘gifted’ to call yourself creative. Creativity is less about what you make and more about the feeling you get from making it.
I think one of the biggest lessons I’ve learned on my creative journey, particularly in everyday creativity for highly sensitive people, is that creativity is something you define for yourself. No one else can tell you what being creative looks like for you. It’s personal. It’s something that lives inside you and takes shape in ways that feel right to you.
So maybe you’re not creating masterpieces. Maybe you’re not winning awards or being labeled ‘gifted.’ Maybe your creativity shows up in quiet, ordinary ways—ways that no one else would even recognize as creative. And that’s okay. That’s more than okay. That’s beautiful.
You get to define what creativity means to you. You get to decide how you express it. It doesn’t have to be big or flashy. It doesn’t have to be anything more than a simple t-shirt you made with your own hands, or a meal you cooked from scratch, or a song you sing in the shower.
The most important thing is that creativity feels like a true expression of who you are, no matter how small or ordinary it may seem.
One of the biggest traps we fall into is seeking validation for our creativity. We want to be told we’re good, that we’re talented, that what we made is special. But creativity isn’t about that. It’s about the internal process—the way it makes you feel while you’re doing it.
When I sew my own clothes, I’m not looking for anyone to tell me I did a good job. I don’t need to post it on social media for likes or compliments. I sew because it gives me a sense of accomplishment. It’s a quiet, personal satisfaction that no one else needs to validate.
If you’ve ever felt like your creativity wasn’t ‘enough,’ I encourage you to let go of that idea. Creativity doesn’t need to be seen by others to be real. It doesn’t need to be praised or admired. It just needs to feel right to you.
So if you’ve ever felt stuck, wondering if you’re ‘creative enough,’ I hope you can take a deep breath and let that go. You don’t need to make masterpieces. No need to wow anyone. You don’t need to live up to any external labels or expectations.
Creativity is yours to define. It can be as simple as sewing a t-shirt that no one notices but you. As quiet as cooking a meal for yourself. It can be as subtle as a handwritten note or as bold as a poem that spills from your soul.
The beauty of creativity is that it doesn’t have to be anything more than what feels true to you.
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