Hate Isolation? You Need a Hobby

Photo by Tatiana from Pexels

Whether you believe in intelligent design or natural selection it cannot be disputed that humans were not meant to be in isolation. In every hat that I wear in my life, Christian, science teacher, partner, daughter, dog-mom, the isolation imposed by the Coronavirus has gotten to me, and not in the way I expected.

When my school district made the transition to distance learning, I have to admit I was relieved. No more up before the sun mornings, all the sweet, sweet quiet my little introvert spirit could want. No more canceling evening plans at the last minute because I felt overwhelmed and fatigued from the day. Finally, I thought, I can rest.

Well, that reprieve lasted about a week before the stress of working through a crisis from my home hit with the stark reality of sledgehammer. As I sunk into a depression it took me a few weeks to discover the root of my problem. Technology has allowed us to simulate human interactions, but what it cannot recreate is the real-time inspiration and feedback that stimulates our creativity. Until now my most creative space has been my office, but working from home, if my idea sucks, Dave can’t throw something through the phone at me to express just how ridiculous he thought it was. Heather can’t get up from the desk behind me and explain her thoughts through interpretive dance. Kayla isn’t at home with me to make snide remarks under her breath that only I can hear. Quarantine has cut me off from my creative source, from the instantaneous and multisensory feedback that allows me to transform an idea to a product in real-time. A process that makes me feel validated, valuable, alive.

Taking matters into my own hands and forcing myself to tap back into a creative source has been my lifeline through the isolation.

As much fun as it has been to enjoy the quiet moments of quarantine, and read all the Harry Potter books (yes, ALL of them). I wasn’t producing anything I was proud of, I was merely consuming and whether you believe in God or science, or no higher power at all, I know you have felt it: that primal need to create. The satisfaction of working on a project, overcoming the fear of a blank page, editing, revising, perfecting, and seeing it through to fruition stirs and then settles something deep within all of us.

Whether it is singing, writing, composing, dancing, coloring, drawing, baking, building, something that you put down years ago, or something new that you are taking up for the first time I encourage you to make space in all of this to create something.

The beautiful thing about creation is that once we have created we can share it with one another.

I have been looking for my innate creative source for the past few weeks. It amazes me how we can so easily lose touch with that source in adulthood. I have colored in a coloring book for the first time in who knows how long, tried my hand at home design by learning how to use architecture software, pick up my embroidery hoop, painted, sketched, and written. Some projects remain unfinished, perhaps this is not their time, and some have produced.

Having a project has caused me to reach out to friends and family for feedback throughout the creative process, giving us something to discuss other than the weather or the last time we saw toilet paper on a grocery store shelf. It has connected me with people I had lost touch with. By engaging with one another through our projects, I found a connection to humanity that I had lost touch with over the past few weeks (okay, some connections were lost years ago).

Our ancestors were creators. They developed, revised, and shared together. Although our physical environment has changed and the ways we communicate with one another has changed, those needs within us, to create and to share have not.

I encourage you, if you are struggling with this, try to create something. It won’t be perfect, it will take time, it will frustrate you as much as it brings you joy, but having something to care for and nurture that is all your own just might save you as it saved me.