When did my creativity die?

I used to make things all the time.  I was always crafting.  I had huge containers full of supplies, scraps and tools to create with.  At any given time, I was in the middle of a project or making a gift for someone I knew.  Hell, even on vacation at the shore, I’d bring my small box with “craft necessities” with me to do things while relaxing.

I can’t even remember when the last time was that I made something.  I couldn’t tell you the last time I actually finished a project that I’d started.

one of the candles I made

Something about my marriage ending killed my craftiness.  The last time I was really crafty and creative was when I was candle making.  I was so into it I had a short-lived business venture of it.  I would have never “started a business” at all if it weren’t for the rules of the town’s craft fair stating that you must be licensed as a business in order to participate in the craft fair.  That was my goal, to be in a craft fair, even just once, just to know that I could do it and people would buy my wares.  I worked so hard for two months every day making candles that looked like cupcakes up until the night before of the craft fair.  I was proud of myself.

some of my candles on display at the craft fair

me at the craft fair

Then, that was it.  I just was done.  I realized I didn’t want to do that as a business because it took up so much of my time to try to make a profit, and I’d stopped enjoying what I was doing.  After that, things just dried up, creatively.  Months after the craft fair, my husband and I separated.  After he moved out, I threw out a lot of things.  I threw out my craft supplies because I never used them.

When I read “Bag of Bones” by Stephen King, and the main character had a problem with writer’s block, I identified with that because I feel as though I’ve been through some sort of “crafter’s block” or “artist’s block.”  I used to love making things for people.  Now I don’t feel like anyone even wants my gifts.  I’m even pretty sure that my boyfriend wouldn’t like anything I made.  You know the way when you get a card and you go oh that’s nice, you look at it for a few days, but eventually you just throw it out?  That’s what I feel like anything that I make is.  Everyone’s just looking at it like some kid’s stupid art project.

I see things.  I want to make things.  I don’t know how to start again.  I’d literally have to start from the beginning by getting supplies again.  I used to have a whole box full of different paints and brushes.  I don’t even have one now.  Sigh.