The sandwich years

I'm 45. And like a lot of women my age, for the last couple of years I've been what people call sandwiched — teenagers on one side moving through all their big life transitions, aging parents on the other side needing more and more care and attention, and me somewhere in the middle trying to hold it all together.

My parents lived out of town. There were medical needs to navigate, and eventually I faced the enormous task of getting them settled into a retirement village. There were many trips and logistics and emotional weight that I hadn't quite anticipated. And at home, there was a family that needed me for everyday stuff, too.

Oh — and we were raising a guide dog puppy at the time. Which I thought would be joyful and manageable. It was incredibly joyful. Manageable? Absolutely not! We loved him dearly and saying goodbye when he moved on to his next chapter left me riddled with guilt and the weight of another little heartbreak in a season that already had plenty of those.

And then there's perimenopause. Which is just such a gift.

The point is — there was a lot. Genuinely a lot of life things.

Painting for the wrong reasons

Here's the thing that took me a while to admit to myself. I wasn’t just busy - I was busy painting for the wrong reasons.

In the middle of all of that chaos, I was trying to keep up. Trying to meet deadlines. Trying to maintain relationships with collectors I genuinely cared about. And instead of painting from a place of joy and flow, I was painting from a place of obligation, stress and guilt. It is the WORST feeling ever. A black hole for my creativity.

For example, I had a commission I was trying to finish — an important one, a piece I really cared about — and I could feel myself being pulled in so many emotional directions that I just couldn't give it what it deserved. In the end, I finished it. I was proud of it. But I felt like I had let the client down by taking so long to complete it, even though the delay had nothing to do with the work itself and everything to do with life falling heavily on my shoulders all at once.

That piece became my last painting for a while. And putting the brush down — really putting it down, intentionally, without a return date — was one of the hardest things I've done.

Giving myself grace

I kept reminding myself that if I don't show up for my family now, I will regret it forever. There was never any question about that. Family first. Full stop.

But knowing that didn't make the other grief any smaller. The grief of feeling unfulfilled. Of watching the ideas keep coming — because they never stopped coming — and having nowhere to put them. Of feeling like a creative person with her hands tied.

I had to practice giving myself grace. And I'll be honest — I wasn't very good at it. It's a lot easier to say “be kind to yourself” than to actually do it when you're exhausted and stretched thin and quietly mourning a part of yourself that you've had to put on hold - again (oh, hello motherhood - you beautiful and challenging thing you).

My biggest supporters were asking me, “I haven’t seen you on socials - Have you stopped painting?” And no words could adequately describe the big bowl of life soup that I was wading through. Not to mention that in the back of my mind I’m always thinking - other people are going through some enormous challenges, Briar. This is not that bad, get over yourself! Thanks, inner voice, you’re a real pal.

Argh! I felt lonely, frustrated, selfish and insignificant all at once.

Oh - but don’t forget to keep it altogether for everyone - thanks!

Then suddenly, out of nowhere, somewhere towards the end of last year, I could feel something beginning to shift.

Here's where it gets good. I didn't just drift back to painting. I planned my return. Very Briar. Very Virgo - IYKYK

I knew that the best way to get my creative energy flowing again wasn't to sit down in front of a blank canvas and demand something brilliant. That's a sure fire way to feel terrible about yourself, believe me!

Instead, I leaned into Christmas! The BEST time of year. A time when I've always made handmade gifts for the people I love — some they even like! lol.

I started early, making beautiful things for the home with no pressure and no audience. Just playing. Just making. Just remembering what it felt like to create for the pure joy of it. Thrifting items and giving them a glow up - trying out new crafts and using what I already had in the home and studio to create. Just let my imagination run free.

And it worked. Slowly, quietly, the joy came back.

Once I started playing - I realised that this type of creative expression actually needed it’s own place in my art journey. That is when I decided to set up Briar by Design in the background — giving my playful creative side its own proper home. More on that process in a later blog.

The next step was to reorganise my studio. Order new paints because almost every tube and paint pot I had, had turned into a plastic sculpture. Yikes.

So once I cleaned out the bank acct doing that, gulp, I set some clear dates and gave myself a goal: To hit the ground running in the New Year!

And then the big ideas — the ones that had been quietly gathering for 18 months — were ready. They came flooding in. And suddenly I wasn't just back. I was more focused and more fired up than I had ever been.

What the gap gave me

I used to think of those 18 months as lost time. I beat myself up. Buried my head in the sand and was ashamed that this journey that I had made such a strong start on, had already fizzled out. Now I don't feel that way at all.

The dreaming I did during that season — the ideas that had nowhere to go and just kept growing richer and more detailed in my imagination — have become the foundation for the most ambitious work I have ever attempted.

It reminds me of that saying/concept - It was a season to grow roots - not flowers.

Mid layers of one of my recent works, ‘Aloha’.

If you're in a gap right now — for whatever reason — I just want you to know that coming back is possible. That the creative part of you doesn't disappear. It waits. And sometimes, it uses the time to dream up something bigger than you could have ever imagined before.

If your creativity has any hope of flourishing in the way that it should, be kind to yourself and make space for it to come out when the time feels right.

Briar x

P.S. The big ideas that were brewing during those 18 months? They're almost ready to share. Watch this space!

Coming back

Why are you holding back?