How to Recover from Creative Burnout
For many years, not too long ago, I felt a void I couldn't quite figure out.
It started with an unsupportive relationship. He didn’t understand my need to creatively express, he thought it was weird and anti-social, so I left my knitting at home and moved my art supplies to the garage. Then it made even more sense to put it all aside when I had an infant who required 24/7 attention. And then I tucked it out of sight even further when I re-entered graduate school AND had a baby turning into a toddler. And of course, once I became a single mom needing to support myself and my child, I didn’t have time or space for it at all. At least that's what I told myself.
I’m talking about my creative practice.
Between 2007 and 2020, my once lush and blooming creative practice shriveled into a stalk of dried-up orchid blossoms, wrinkly air roots, giant drooping leaves, and parched soil. So out of touch with the deep well of creative expression,
The familiar spark that once ignited effortlessly in my childhood and young adulthood now felt distant, like trying to recall a dream. It'd been so long since I'd attempted to engage with my creative practice that I'd all but closed up shop, given my supplies away, and avoided anything beyond knitting here and there.
By the time I opened my private therapy practice in 2020, I was in a creative burnout.
And what I've come to find is that so many of the women I work with are also in creative burnout. I'm not just talking about artistic practices, I'm talking the kind of inspired creative expression that is a birthright. We all have our own mediums, tools, or supplies with which we create, but we all have it.
A woman wearing a fur coat, carrying a canvas and paintbrushes, walks through the fall leaves.
Understanding creative burnout in sensitive people
While neurotypical artists might push through blocks with discipline alone, sensitive souls process creativity through a more intricate emotional and sensory filter. Our heightened perception becomes both a gift and a challenge. The same sensitivity that allows us to notice subtle color variations or complex emotional narratives can leave us vulnerable to creative depletion. We absorb environmental energy like sponges—both inspiring and draining stimuli affect us more intensely.
Signs your creative spirit needs renewal:
1. Physical Manifestations
Tensing up at the sight of creative tools
Physically avoiding your creative space
Headaches when thinking about projects
Shallow breathing when approaching creative work
Unusual tiredness after brief creative sessions
2. Emotional exhaustion
Irritable, grumpy, quick to react. Your emotional well runs dry long before your ideas do.
You're unable to process feedback or share work, even with trusted friends.
Deep sadness or jealousy, maybe even anger, when seeing others create freely
Grieving your past creative enthusiasm
Feeling shame about unfinished past projects
Creative blocks
The creative block isn’t just about art—it seeps into daily life. Selecting an outfit or arranging flowers in a vase becomes an overwhelming task, not to mention choosing what to make for dinner.
Usual sources of inspiration now feel draining and exhausting
Comparing your process to everyone else's
Obsessing over perfection in tiny details
Inability to remember why you started creating
Feeling like an impostor in your creative field
Circular thinking about creative "shoulds"
Sensory Overwhelm
The world’s volume seems turned up to maximum. Ordinary stimuli—the hum of fluorescent lights, the texture of your clothing, background conversations—become unbearable distractions rather than potential creative catalysts.
Withdrawing from invitations to creatively collaborate, disconnecting from community, and avoiding any feedback about any of your creative work.
If you're experiencing any of the above, I bet you're also wondering what to do!
I promise, there is a lushness to be had once again if you are in a creative drought.
It’s possible, and...
Waiting is hard.
Trusting is hard.
A little bit at a time.
With the gentle spirit of invitation.
A woman wearing a dark blue dress, hangs a blank canvas on a white wall.
Start with Micro-Creating!
Begin with absurdly small creative acts - drawing a single line, writing one sentence, playing one note. These tiny creations build no pressure but maintain your connection to the creative process.
Below are 6 gentle mini-practices for finding your way back to your creativity:
Five-Minute Sensory Anchoring (5 minutes) - Choose one object from your creative space. Spend five minutes exploring it through a single sense. Notice the shadow patterns your pencil casts, or trace the texture of your favorite paintbrush. Don’t create—just observe, be curious.
Micro-Journaling Windows (3 minutes) - Open your journal. Write about the smallest beautiful thing you noticed today. A leaf’s shadow. The steam from your tea. The goal isn’t volume but presence.
Breath-Guided Creating - Draw, write, or move only on your exhales. Let inhales be moments of pause and reception. Continue for seven breaths. Notice how this rhythm affects your creative flow.
Sound Stories (2-3 minutes) - Close your eyes and listen to the layered sounds around you. Choose three distinct sounds. Write one word for each sound. Let these three words be the beginning of a tiny story.
Hand Dancing (3 minutes) - Play a gentle piece of music. Let just your hands dance to it. Notice the shapes they make. Draw the movement patterns in the air.
Wear your 3 favorite things (or put one flower in a mason jar, or eat your favorite food for days in a row). Let it be enough.
Allow these tiny practices to help clear creative static.
Trust that that one thing can be a bridge to other things in the future when the time is right.
