I then considered collaging, which I had embraced as a teen when Cosmopolitan issues were plentiful & allowed for any number of power phrases to be found & combined.  I no longer subscribe to any physical magazines, and I am pretty sure I don’t own glue that’s less than 20 years old.  So, again, I abandoned this idea.

I finally pulled out my son’s Crayola markers and did a very un-me thing.  I started doodling.  I played with my own handwriting in various colors, sizes, & shapes.  I explored words & phrases that had stood out during moments of empowerment.  What spoke to me?  What makes me stronger, more in control?  I probably doodled for an hour or so, & when it was over, I hated everything I’d done.  Naturally.  

But, there was one exception.  In the middle of the page, I’d written “Permission Granted” in this beautiful, bright crimson.  I showed my partner what I’d been doing, and he said, “Oh, so you’re creating an Wordle.”  I had no idea what a Wordle was, so I googled like all good academics.  Turns out, it’s a Word Cloud, which I was familiar with. Huh…  Yes, maybe a Word Cloud…

I abandoned the process for the evening.

After walking by the scattered drafts on my kitchen table 20 times the next morning, I finally decided I either had to clean up my mess or finish my project.  More doodles, more phrases.  What would I want to include?  I’d want my values to be prominent, making it simple to acknowledge them and return to them.  I’d want strategies that could inspire me to stay in control.  I’d want pieces of me that remind me of my priorities.  

Being true to myself meant admitting that I couldn’t totally freehand and expect results that I’d accept.  So, I compromised on the level of acceptable precision, settling for a flimsy 6-inch plastic ruler and a pencil to create gridlines.  I used my brainstormed list to ensure I emphasized the words I wanted, and I tested colors on a wasted draft page.  Needless to say, I couldn’t completely “let it go,” but even the baby steps made me feel freer & safe. 

I allowed for two “mistakes” – two moments where I was tempted to scratch the whole thing & start over.  But, compassion with imperfection is as much of an exercise as anything else for me.  One “mess-up” I actually improved upon with a little reflection & creativity.  In the end, I liked what I came up with better because I was forced to rethink what I had.  The other “mess-up” I attempted to cover.  I can still see it, though it’s not glaring.  But, it reminds me to be kind to myself & to enjoy process over outcome alone.

The finished product is in my home office now. I see it every day.  I can’t claim it’s solved all my feelings of overwhelm, or frustration, or tired.  But, it gave me an outlet within my comfort zone and that, though perhaps a sad commentary, stretched my creativity in a long-forgotten way.