Standing in the kitchen on this chilly February morning, I have a rare moment of feeling peaceful, cozy, calm. A rare moment of feeling optimistic about the day ahead and life in general.

I listen to the music as I tend to the task in front of me. For the past few years, the way I make cornbread is by cooking it in a skillet on the stovetop, and I flip the rounds the way I do pancakes.

When they’re done, I choose one, top it with melted butter, and enjoy my piece of cornbread with a hot cup of coffee.

I don’t know what challenges the day will bring or what is ahead. I don’t know if my husband will feel good, if I’ll handle things well, if anxiety and fear will take over.

For now, though, I’m not focused on any of that. I’m able to be in the present moment, this moment of calm.

And I’m grateful.

I must admit to having mixed feelings about the new year.

On one hand, I’m glad to see 2025 come to a close. It held a lot of anxiety for me, I wasn’t nearly as productive as I wanted to be, and the last month a half brought unwanted and scary changes to life because of my husband’s recent health challenges.

On the other hand, I’m not exactly looking forward to 2026 because I don’t have much optimism that it will be a better year. Actually, I’m afraid it will be even worse.

And this is where I stopped back in January, and now I’m here in February to finish the post. When I wrote the opening paragraphs, we had been dealing since mid-November with my husband’s heart tests and his stroke and the changes to our lives. The past few weeks have brought more challenges, including a pacemaker for my husband and seemingly ever-increasing anxiety for me.

Since mid-November, it’s been an intense time. Overwhelm, fear, anxiety, stress, grief, changes in routine, doctor visits, tests, procedures, adaptations, the busy-ness of countless phone calls and forms for doctor/health/medical/insurance stuff.

I’ve been doing the stress-reducing things that usually help. Prayer and spending time with Jesus, breathing techniques, brain retraining and neural rewiring exercises, meditation, music, talks with friends, reading cozy fiction, tapping, painting, watching comfort TV, and more.

I haven’t done all of these as consistently as I could have (even my usual-daily painting got skipped at times) because, to be honest, sometimes simply existing and getting through the day took all my energy when the fear and anxiety consumed all my energy. And even though I have taken a few walks and had some porch-sittin’ time, the weather definitely limited how often I ventured out in the cold.

And as for writing? I’ve barely done any. I worked on fiction exactly twice this past month, and today is the first day I’ve tried to write here on the blog. I simply haven’t been able to get beyond the anxiety and fear and overwhelm enough to focus my mind to put words on paper or screen. Writing means being in my head in a way painting does not – and I think that’s at least one reason I can paint (usually) even when I’m highly anxious, but it’s so hard for me to write when in that state.

When I first started writing this post in early January, I had intended to set a new writing goal for myself. A simple goal, one that felt easy and doable even with all of the difficult and scary life-stuff happening in our home since mid-November.

Just write for one minute every day.

That’s it. That was the goal I planned to set for my writing as the new year started. One minute, but daily. I thought it would help me get back into some sort of consistent groove without feeling overwhelming.

But I wasn’t able to do even one minute a day these past weeks.

So I’m not going to give myself that goal after all. I’m not going to give myself any writing goal right now except for this one:

I’m going to stay connected to my identity as a writer.

What that looks like will be different on different days. Some days I’ll write, even if it’s only for one minute or one sentence. Some days I’ll read something from a writing-related book to get some inspiration and remind me of my writing life. Some days I might simply look at this caricature of myself from ChatGPT.

It’s important to me to stay connected with my writing. But I’m not sure how much I can actually write during this time, and I’m not going to force myself. When I can get over the hump of getting started even when I’m feeling scared and anxious, writing is wonderfully nourishing for me. Writing helps me. Writing connects me to my core self.

So I’m going to do my best to deal with the stress and anxiety and overwhelm enough to write at least somewhat regularly, even for brief bits. But if I can’t, I’m not going to beat myself up about it.

There are more tests, more doctor visits, more of who-knows-what ahead in my husband’s health journey. Our life is different now than it was before mid-November, and more changes will come. All of this is hugely triggering for my severe anxiety. And all of this is hard for both of us.

I’m doing the best I can to handle all the things I need to handle, even though it feels like I fall short so much of the time. I’m doing the best I can to help my husband. I’m doing the best I can to deal with the stress and anxiety and overwhelm.

And I’m also trying to do my best at giving myself grace.

Including when it comes to my writing.

I love music just for the music itself, but when I’m feeling stressed or anxious music can provide even more than enjoyment. It can be a way to shift my mood and offer distraction (at least somewhat) from the difficult stuff.

In our home, we have a local radio station playing in the kitchen literally all day long. This station plays music from the 70s through the current time, and we love how much air play the DJs give to our favorite music decades of the 70s and 80s. We also really enjoy the special interviews and features they do at regularly scheduled times. (And yes, there are actual, human, real-life in real-time DJs on the air.) It provides background sound for the day, it keeps me company when I’m in the kitchen cooking or painting or washing dishes, and it generally brings joy to our lives.

Although the kitchen radio provides most of the music in our house, I’ll also turn to the CDs we still have in our collection, as well as music online. Sometimes when I’m feeling anxious or stressed I’ll go to youtube and find a long video or playlist containing lots of 70s or 80s songs, and I’ll listen to the music while I do nothing else other than relax and breathe. Almost always, it will help.

Are there songs or genres/periods of music that help you feel more uplifted? That help you feel calmer if you’re feeling stressed or anxious? That help you feel more capable of making it through a hard day?

Music can reflect mood, definitely. But music can also impact mood and shift mood. It can be useful for calming and de-stressing.

It can be an important tool in an anxiety-reducing, stress-reducing toolkit.

There are tools I keep in my metaphorical toolkit for calming and de-stressing. These are things that have proven to be helpful for me over the years, things I turn to time and time again. Things like breathing exercises, prayer, painting, taking walks, tapping, aromatherapy, brain retraining, porch sittin’, watching comfort tv, meditating, and other tools and techniques for quieting an anxious nervous system.

But I’m going to be honest. When my fear is stuck in high gear, the tools don’t always seem to work.

When that happens, I’ve found that it’s best to layer tools. I need to do a combination of different things, and sometimes I have to experiment to find which combination will work on a particular day. And sometimes I have to do this in an off-and-on sort of way because the effects might not last long.

And I’m going to be honest again. If the anxiety is super high, the effects might not only be temporary for me, the effects also might be quite limited when it comes to how calm and less anxious I feel.

But I consider any reduction in the high anxiety to be a positive step.

Do you have a metaphorical anxiety toolkit of techniques you can turn to when feeling stressed, anxious, or overwhelmed? It’s worth it to have one and use it…and if it seems like the tools aren’t working, try layering them.

As so often happens, I’ve had periods lately of intense anxiety. I spend time with my usual tools and helpers: painting, praying, porch time, reading, brain retraining, hanging out with my husband, watching “comfort” shows, talking with friends…and, yes, spending time with genealogy (and newspapers.com and findagrave.com and facebook groups focused on the history of my family’s area).

Trying to fit the puzzle pieces together that make up my family tree. Researching places and businesses where my relatives worked or spent time. Learning about what was going on when my great-grandparents (and beyond) were alive.

Doing this gives my brain something to focus on instead of fearful thoughts about the future.

Although any aspect of this can be helpful and enjoyable and lead to new discoveries or confirmations, there are certain things that have captured my attention in a deeper way. I turn to these again and again as I try to learn more about them.

My father’s paternal grandparents fall into this category. An old abandoned and mostly-vanished factory cemetery is another one. A long-standing building in my hometown is also on my list. Another is a church that, over the last 130-plus years, has changed names and merged and moved.

I dip in and out of researching these people and places. They are smaller “pet projects” under the larger umbrella of genealogy and local research, and they give me familiar things I can pull out and give attention to whenever I want.

They are calming distractions I keep in my toolbox of things that help when the anxiety is high…or things I can focus on simply because I want to spend time with them.

I don’t know if I’ll ever uncover more details or find more answers to the questions I have about these people and places, but I enjoy the exploration.

And that’s why I keep on researching.

It’s true that there are cycles of creativity, and sometimes it seems to flow abundantly and sometimes it slows to a point that makes me wonder if it’ll turn back on. But all the same, it seems to be true that the more often and more consistently I write or paint, the more likely it is that I will continue to write or paint, and the more of it I’ll do. Even with the ebbs and flows, and the stalls and starts, the overall trajectory is that creating leads to more creating.

For me, this is the case with writing as I continue to slowly and gradually work on the sequel to New Life in New Melody.

And it is the case with painting and doodling and art journaling as I continue with my personal at-home summer art retreat.

Big blocks of time aren’t necessary to engage in some creativity – even brief bits of time work really, really well.

The thing is to do it. To create for its own sake…and for our own sake.

And if your experience is similar to mine, you might find that the more you create, the more you create.

Last summer I put them into one of the boxes of items we were donating to the local animal shelter’s thrift store, thinking I probably wouldn’t do anything with them anymore. After all, if I hadn’t used them in so long, why keep them around? I’ve been in a lengthy and ongoing process of trying to declutter and downsize (a process which is a big challenge for me) and I count it as a win any time I make any progress, no matter how small. But right before my husband carried that particular box to the car, I pulled out the smallest gelli plate to keep. Just in case I changed my mind and wanted to use a gelli plate again.

And I’m so glad I kept it.

During this time of my personal at-home summer art retreat, I was encouraged by a friend and a few videos to get out my little gelli plate and give it a go. I let myself play. And I had fun.

I made prints on papers I plan to tear and cut to use on journal pages. I started decorating some unused tags I’ve had stored away for years that maybe I’ll (finally!) start using in mixed media projects. I didn’t worry about how any of it turned out, I simply enjoyed experimenting and playing.

Do you have an art supply you haven’t used in a while – and thought you might not ever use again? Or maybe a supply you put away but haven’t tried out?

It could be that one day you end up surprising yourself the way I did…and discover it brings you a sense of play and joy you didn’t expect.

This year, in late May, I decided to do the same this summer – and on June 1st I began this year’s personal at-home summer art retreat.

Although I’ve had a daily painting practice for several years now, for the past month I’ve been painting even more. And I’ve spent more time doodling. And mark making. And doing mixed media.

I’ve been using some of my art supplies I’ve barely picked up in years, like stamps and stencils. I’ve even come across supplies I forgot I had.

Most days I’ve been watching at least one painting or art journaling or mixed media video – not only for techniques and ideas,, but also because watching those kinds of videos will usually spark my own creative juices and get my fingers moving to create something (even if it’s not creating what the video is demonstrating).

And I’ve been trying new things…like making my own journal from torn watercolor paper, using pieces of one of my acrylic-on-canvas paintings for the front and back covers, and binding it using tools from a small book-binding kit I purchased half a dozen years ago but had never used until now.

With the painting, the doodling, the mark-making, the journal creating, the “arting” in general…it’s not about how it ends up looking, it’s about the process, the doing of it.

And the doing of it is having so many benefits for me.

All of this has been fun. Playful. Calming. Relaxing. Joyful.

It’s helping me get through hot days and stressful periods.

Creativity joy is a real thing, and my personal at-home summer art retreat is helping me stay connected to creativity and to joy.

I hope you have something in your life that does the same for you.

One of my creative sparks is watching videos about painting, art journaling, or writing.

These videos can be instructional or they can be someone talking about their own creative process. It doesn’t matter to me – simply watching them (even without following along if it’s a lesson or a teaching video) makes me feel creative. These kinds of videos help me stay connected to my creativity.

I’ve been watching several videos like that over the past few days. Karen Abend’s 2025 Sketchbook Revival Binge Fest started on Tuesday and I’ve been having a blast. My first experience with Sketchbook Revival (no charge to sign up) was in 2019, and I’ve been doing it every year since then. Each year there are many videos from different artists sharing videos of techniques and tips and projects for painting, drawing, mixed media – basically anything that can be done in a sketchbook, whether big or small.

This year’s Sketchbook Revival Binge Fest is different from previous years, and I’ve been looking forward to it ever since she announced it. For the 2025 Sketchbook Revival, Karen has opened the vault to all the videos for five years’ worth of past Sketchbook Revivals: 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, and 2022. This means over 130 workshop sessions from dozens of different artists.

Watching videos like these sparks my creativity, and that’s why I try to watch things like this on a fairly regularly basis. Sometimes I’ll simply go to YouTube and search for art journaling videos or writing-related videos. Almost always, it leads to doing more writing, more painting, more creating.

Since Tuesday, I’ve watched a few of the videos from 2018 (I’ve focused on that year since I didn’t sign up for Sketchbook Revival back then). I’ve only watched, I haven’t actually followed along or done any of the specific projects. But watching has made me pick up my paintbrushes and pens more often this week.

How it looks isn’t what matters. It’s the doing of it that matters.

Just to play. Just to relax and unwind.

Just to connect to creativity.

Just to create for the joy of it.

I call my time out there my porch time. (Also known as porch sittin’.) And it’s something I’ve come to consider as being essential to my well-being the past several years.

Porch time is a time when I usually read whatever novel I’m reading. Sometimes I have my coffee out there. Sometimes my husband joins me in porch sittin’ and we enjoy the fresh air and nature sounds. Sometimes I take a TV tray out there, get settled with my tablet and foldable USB keyboard, and work on my writing.

Sometimes I don’t do anything but look at the sky and breathe, doing my best to release whatever stress and anxiety I’m feeling.

Our porch is very small and quite narrow. But it’s covered, so it protects from sun and rain. There’s room enough for a wooden park bench along one side and a folding camp chair on the other, and little outdoor pillows for each, so it offers spots to sit and relax. We have a couple of small stands and tables out there, so it gives room to place coffee cups and books.

And since it’s literally right outside my front door, I don’t have to get in the car and go somewhere to get to a relaxing spot…which means I can spend time there even if I’m having a low-energy or off-balance day.

In cooler months, I put on a sweater or jacket while I’m out there, and I have a lightweight flannel throw to keep me extra cozy while I read. When it’s hot, I can take one of our small battery-operated fans to help create a breeze. The weather (especially when it’s cold) does keep me away more often than I’d like. But then I get back into the routine of it as soon as I can because it is so important to my mental and emotional well-being.

Porch time is calming and relaxing, but it’s even more than that for me.

It’s grounding.

It’s restorative.

And it’s healing.

Do you have a space like that in your life? Somewhere you can easily get to, a place to unwind and breathe and get grounded and simply be?

I hope you do. It can really help.