The day before Christmas, I took out my journal that I began at the start of the year, eager to see all the stories and wisdom I’d gained this year.
I turned the pages to the most recent entry, only to discover it was dated 1.22.22. Nearly the entire year passed me by in the blink of an eye, with not much to show for it.
Even though I’m objectively a “writer” — a published journalist and seasoned wellness publicist that churns out copy weekly — I’ve never kept a journal.
In my early days, the biggest challenge to journaling was that I’d lose the key to that tiny lock on the first day. Once I came to terms with the fact that I was not a kid who could keep track of a small key, I was forced to journal with the assumption that my thoughts would be widely read and published for all to see. I’d write entries so heavily edited, assuming my parents or friends would read them that it’d be too watered down to be a therapeutic practice. And quite boring.
As I got older though, the more challenging reality became that no one cared to read it anyways.
There was nothing remarkable happening. Nothing notable to record. So why bother?
Days and years blurred together. I’d do my best to sort out my feelings in my head as I’d fall asleep or ramble from here to there in therapy sessions. It wasn’t terribly effective, but it was enough to keep me rolling forward, albeit at a slow pace.
But this year, Big Magic happened.
I listened to the David Sedaris Masterclass, which assured me that my story is worth telling. I followed one of my favorite writers,
to Substack. She showed that writing didn’t have to be this big, precious endeavor. It could be informal and straightforward, especially on this platform. Later this year, she showed me how important it is to write like it matters.Today, an inscribed copy of her book, QLAW, showed up on my doorstep, the exact day I needed it to arrive. She wrote to me,
“What you see in me, that’s you. It’s in you already. You have more courage than you know. Write especially when you’re scared to.”
The idea for flab came to me this summer out of nowhere. I hadn’t asked for it, but I listened to it and stayed up late each night for a week creating it. By the end of the year, I reached my goal of creating 10 issues.
Along the way, I doubled the size of this community. I reconnected with people I had fallen out of touch with. Women I’ve never met subscribed. I heard from subscribers after each issue that they had a similar experience and were working through some of the same issues.
Something special was created. Your warm response showed me that creating a place free of images of other’s bodies, that shared personal stories of body image and ED recovery, alongside wellness advice without undertones of diet culture was in demand.
Together, we began the work of shifting the cultural narrative around body image and wellness. And we’re just getting started.
This year, instead of another health-minded goal like “drink more water” (and let’s be real, that’s an improvement over the voice in the back of my head that I’m ignoring, who is snarkily telling me I need to “lose the baby weight” this year), I’m resolving to write — and create — like it matters.
Because it does. To someone, maybe just me, but to someone, it matters.
Am I scared no one will read this? Yes.
Am I embarrassed that a certain person will read this? Yes.
Am I afraid that it’s all been said before, and I have nothing valuable to add? Yes.
Am I worried my words will be used against me, or that I’ll change my POV? Yes.
But fear is boring. It’s the most basic, primal thing about us humans.
So instead, I ask:
Am I driven when people reach out to tell me flab has helped them? Yes!
Do I feel a sense of purpose that powers me through another diaper change? Yes!
Am I filled with peace when I put a story on paper? Hell, yes!
Creating isn’t for a special few, it’s something we’re all born to do. For me, writing is the best way to bring beauty into this world and it gives me access to clarity that I can’t seem to access through any other expression.
I like the way I feel after I write. Elizabeth Gilbert calls this state of transcendence, “amplified living”. And like her, I’m choosing to spend as much time as possible living an amplified life while here on this earth.
Gilbert writes in her book, Big Magic:
“While the paths and outcomes of creative living vary widely, creative life is an amplified life. It’s a bigger, happier, expanded and a hell of a lot more interesting life. Living in this manner, continually and stubbornly bringing forth the jewels that are hidden within you is a fine art, in and of itself. That itself is an act of creativity.”
We are all creators, and this year, I’ll be wearing that identity boldly — as a creator-in-residence here on Substack for another year.
As you enter the new year, I encourage you to pause and reflect on how you unfold beauty in this world. How do you create? What will you put into this world to add a touch of beauty and amplify your life?
Remember, as Abuela from Encanto realizes at the end of the movie, it’s not about your gifts or talents — the miracle is you! Put “all of you” out there this year, and watch in awe at all the magic you create.
✌️🤟
Jen S.
Mama’s affirmations 🙏:
I hold beauty worthy of bringing into this world.
&
Creating isn’t always comfortable, but it’s always worth it.
Body image boosts 🚀: Creating
Here are a few concepts that resonated with me while reading Elizabeth Gilbert’s Big Magic and contemplating the topic of creative living. Many are direct quotes from the book:
A little history for perspective: the Renaissance brought about a more rational, human-centered view of life. The gods and mysteries fell away. Credit for creativity was given to the artist themselves. Humans were responsible for their own creative genius. People were separated into haves and have-nots when it came to creativity. That’s not how it has to be. I choose to believe that ideas and creativity are out there for all of us to grab hold of.
Creative living isn’t about pursuing a life that is professionally or exclusively devoted to the arts. You don’t need to quit your job. You don’t need to make money as a creator. Your reward can be as simple (and big!) as feeling alive. The magic is that this feeling of an amplified life is often enough to keep you going if you’re truly creating the way you were meant to. This is a breakthrough idea for me.
To create, you must have the courage to bring forth the beauty within yourself. Creativity is a path for the brave, but not the fearless. Bravery means something you know is scary — and if it’s scary, it’s often worth doing. It means you’re thinking bigger, beyond the small obvious path in front of you.
To create is a way of life and a privilege. Celebrate your ability to make something out of your experiences, especially the difficult ones.
Start before you're ready. Simple, to the point. Credit,
.Believe that ideas come to you on purpose. Listen closely to the direction and ideas the universe is sending your way. There is a reason an idea chooses you. They are hoping you listen and say YES!
Work with your creativity every day — if you show up for it, it will show up for you. Some days it’s magic and pours from you. Sometimes, you have to be a disciplined “farmer” to bring forth your creation.
Trust the trail of curiosity. Don’t let go of your curiosity the moment things stop being easy. That’s when things get interesting.
And my favorite line from Gilbert’s Big Magic sums it all up:
“Creativity is sacred, and it is not sacred. What we make matters enormously, and it doesn’t matter at all. We are terrified, and we are brave. Art is a crushing chore and a wonderful privilege. Make space for all these paradoxes to be equally true in your soul and you can make anything.”