What Did I Learn From 12 Weeks of The Artist's Way?
self-discovery | creative recovery | personal essay | books
For the last twelve weeks, I've been in a cult.
Okay... maybe not a real cult, but it felt like one at times. Seriously.
At the end of last year, my dear friend and fellow creative,
encouraged and practically insisted I read The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron.
Essentially, it's like free therapy meets a creative bootcamp, all geared towards unlocking your inner "Artist." And let me tell you, committing to this for twelve weeks was like digging up a time capsule filled with my childhood dreams… and a whole lot of buried and oversized baggage and trauma. I went down, down, down the road a dark and treacherous road, much like Agatha & Co. in Agatha All Along… and (spoiler alert) climbed my way off and out of the road, much like my favorite fictional coven leader.
I won't bore you with every single detail (trust me, 84 days of morning pages, plus weekly tasks and "Artist Dates"—solo adventures to recharge the creative batteries—is A LOT). But I do want to share where I'm at now, because it's… different OR at least it feels that way to me, now.
Where my demons hide, that’s where my demons hide.
I'm proud of myself for sticking with it. Because, honestly? I wanted to quit. Badly.
The resistance was fierce. It was like my inner saboteur threw a tantrum. A literal three year old who should have had the waaambulance called on them.
I was forced to face demons I thought I'd dealt with years ago – in therapy, through self-help books, the whole nine yards…but this was a new beast altogether.
Turns out, there was a lot more hiding under the surface than I realized.
The core of my inner critic? A whole chorus of naysayers, myself amongst them, building in size over years.
It was like unearthing layers of self-doubt, one by one.
There were the teachers who'd stifled my creativity, telling me I wasn't "artistic" enough.
There was the Catholic school system, where I'd desperately tried to fit in, to avoid being seen as "other" – or, you know, gay. I shoved down the silly, unfiltered part of myself, the kid who used to belt out show tunes and do impersonations, think Kurt Hummel from Glee.
There was the memory of singing Bye Bye Birdie with my mom, full-out, in the living room… and then shrinking back, afraid to be that expressive in front of anyone else.
The ad hoc Celine Dion performances, the boy who put on a big tee shirt and danced around the house, the boy who sang at family gatherings, this was all suppressed.
But I couldn't just blame "society at large." That's the easy way out.
The truth is, I'd chosen to live in this stifled version of myself, even when I did pursue creative things.
Drama club? Filtered.
Posting online? Filtered.
My blog, Substack, Tumblr… all filtered. A curated version of "me," always holding something back.
I was always afraid; I know there will be a time where I revert. But as the great philosopher Doechii once said, "what do I have to lose, I could die tomorrow, and what? Who the hell cares?"
What was my core fear exactly? The source of my frustration?
That's what The Artist's Way forced me to figure out.
Some distorted combination of the limiting beliefs I’ve imposed upon myself for so long, that I can only be one thing, with one unique identifier. A perspective, with no flexibility to shift or evolve.
I'd been become obsessed with being "famous" for something or "successful” for another, chasing some external validation.
But deep down, I just wanted to express myself, creatively.
To connect with others through that expression, maybe even inspire someone else.
Creativity isn't about the spotlight; it's about doing the thing, whatever that "thing" is. Even in my work as an Infection Preventionist, I’ve gotten the best feedback when I made my presentations fun and creative! I'd lost that.
something has changed within me…
I realized I didn't need to be "famous" to be creative. I just needed to be.
Which can be tough in a chronically online world where influencers and “content” creators rule the roost. You see that as the only lane forward, and the only way you can enjoy being a “SUCCESSFUL” creative is to monetize your creativity.
That. is. whack.
So, I started doing things differently.
That Canon Rebel DSLR I saved up for in high school? It's off the shelf and back in action.
I'm singing again – louder, and with less fear of that awful singing teacher who told me I was useless.
I'm writing, not for recognition, but to connect, to share, to build community. To entertain, to inspire, educate, and resonate.
Full transparency.
I am my own worst enemy. And my own biggest critic.
These days, I'm being sillier, more open, less worried about what other people think (or what I imagine they think). I'd spent so long contorting myself into "palatable" versions of myself… for people who probably weren't even paying attention!
The Artist’s way is a little “woo-woo”
This whole process has been… well, it sounds a bit woo-woo, I know. And I'm still not sure where the book ends and my own commitment to self-work begins. But it's been a ride. I even cried when Doechii won her Grammy – she's been a virtual companion on this journey, through her Artist's Way YouTube videos, a living example of authentic, out-of-the-box creativity.
gratitude helps.
I'm incredibly lucky to have amazing friends and family. I don't thank them enough.
And while the journey is not over…
There's still more shame to shed, more creative territory to explore.
I feel lighter.
There's more intention behind what I do. I'm shifting from autopilot to actively choosing things that feed my soul, my creativity.
I’m working on a novel, and taking my time with it, learning as I go.
I am experimenting on Substack, and just letting myself be free in this moment.
I am being a silly bookworm on Instagram, recently posted a video of me doing an interpretive dance, like in what universe would I have done that 12 weeks ago for public consumption?
the takeaway
Committing to a habit for 12 weeks, like those morning pages, has been transformative. It's shown me the power of consistency, the unexpected things that can surface when you give yourself space to create – even when (especially when) you're resisting it. It's not a cult (I dated a Scientologist once, I would know what one looks like), but it is a powerful tool. And it might just help you unearth your own inner child – and maybe even your sanity.
P. S. Some tea about Julia Cameron, author of The Artist’s Way. “his wardrobe” in the blurb below…was the wardrobe of her ex-husband, director, Martin Scorsese
Congrats!! I'm proud to know someone who has actually finished The Artist's Way.