My five-year-old, Ada, is a sensitive, creative girl. She spends most of her time in the loft area we converted to an art room. I try to keep all sorts of random supplies out within her reach because she likes to tinker and make but more than anything, she likes to make up stories. She will spend an entire afternoon making books of notebook paper taped together at the “spine.”

I see in her so much of my own creative energy which is exciting but then there’s the darker side of creativity that no one really talks about; the anxiety, the frustration, the need to be heard. I know these feelings all too well.

I feel like creativity is something that is so celebrated when it is productive but what about the lows of creativity? Why is that such a taboo? I cannot remember one point when anyone pulled me aside and said, “Listen, I know this is hard right now but let’s work through this. The struggle is essential to your growth. Pick up the pen. Pick up the brush. Let’s keep going.” Creativity in a low gets treated like madness. What do you remember about Vincent van Gogh? He painted masterpieces then cut off his ear. Next subject. The struggle of creating gets glossed over.

I think sometimes the biggest challenge of parenthood is addressing feelings you see in your children that you yourself have struggled with for a lifetime. A few months ago, Ada had a particularly challenging day. Her play date fell through, her brother ripped up the book she was working on and she had been in trouble throughout the day for not listening. At bedtime, she was nearly inconsolable and I (a creative-introvert) was emotionally drained. She kept saying, “I’m not done with today, Mommy. I’m not done with today.”

Thank God I was listening. Thank God I didn’t just lose my temper and force my way through bedtime. I am so deeply grateful that my ears were working and really heard her. Sometimes, that isn’t the case.

I get that fight. There are so many nights I go to bed only because my body is nearly-broken and I’ve got nothing left to throw at the day. Still, my spirit is restless. There is nothing more frustrating than the feeling of a day wasted; a day with too many burdens.

So I asked her to unload bricks with me.

I explained that all day, we carry around a basket. The bad things that happen to us like fighting with a friend or messing up a painting, those things are bricks. The good things, like playing outside or eating ice cream, those things are the flowers. We can’t help that we get bricks in our basket but at bedtime, we unload the bricks and keep the flowers.

Every night, we cuddle under the blankets and she unloads those bricks.

“Momma, brother pulled my hair today,” she says. “And it didn’t snow. I love snow. And I couldn’t draw a cat the way I wanted.”

The amazing thing is that after a few months of doing this, her basket seems to have less bricks and more flowers each night. Last night she got in bed beside me and said, “Momma, just one brick today but I have a whole bunches of flowers!”

Why does this work? I believe in my heart of hearts that it has given her a much-needed visual way to process the good and bad things that happen in a day. I think the really incredible thing is that as time has gone on, she’s stopped “picking up” the bricks. She knows the bricks weigh down her basket so she gathers more flowers. She is learning optimism!

If there is anything that creative-types need, it is optimism. It is that ability to see beyond the struggle, to embrace the struggle as part of the journey. Heck, don’t we all need that?

So maybe tonight, friends, we unload our bricks and count the flowers. Let’s pack light for this journey.

P.S, Friends:

I’ve made you some wall art of the “Trust Your Journey” illustration above that you can download, print and hang up for your littles! I hope you enjoy ;)