I Didn’t Choose Art. Art Chose Me

How creativity found me in my darkest moments and became the way I learned to express what I couldn’t say out loud.

I’ve always said that I didn’t choose art.

Art chose me.

And I don’t mean that in some magical, everything-fell-into-place kind of way.

I mean that art found me when I was in a really dark place. When I didn’t have the words to explain what was happening inside my head. When I was desperately trying to hide parts of myself that were slowly finding their way to the surface.

Before I started creating self-care resources, writing mental health reflections, designing things, or building my own little creative corner of the internet, there was a teenage girl with a notebook and a lot of feelings she didn’t know what to do with.

And she wrote poetry.

Not the sunshine, butterflies, and everything-is-beautiful kind.

The dark kind.

The kind that came from places I wasn’t ready to talk about.

The Poem That Made Me “Famous”

During my junior year of high school, I wrote a poem called Scars.

And in a strange way, that poem made me famous.

Not famous in the traditional sense. No red carpets, book deals, or suddenly becoming the next great poet.

It was something much more personal.

Because Scars wasn’t just a poem.

It was a glimpse into everything I was desperately trying to keep hidden.

My own demons. My struggles with my mental health. The thoughts and feelings I couldn’t explain, even to myself.

At the time, I didn’t fully understand how much of myself I was putting into those words.

I thought I was just writing a dark poem.

Looking back, I realize something.

My words were telling a story that I wasn’t ready to tell out loud.

All those feelings I tried so hard to bury were finding another way to exist.

Through poetry.

Through creativity.

Through art.

And maybe that’s why I say art chose me.

Because even when I was trying to hide from myself, creativity kept finding me.

I’ve Always Had a Thing for the Darker Side of Poetry

Here’s something that hasn’t changed.

I still love writing dark poetry.

Not because I want to stay in a dark place, but because I think there’s something deeply human about acknowledging that life isn’t always beautiful, positive, or perfectly put together.

Sometimes our thoughts are messy.

Sometimes our emotions are complicated.

Sometimes the words that come out aren’t pretty.

And that’s okay.

I don’t believe every piece of writing needs a happy ending.

Sometimes a poem is simply a way of saying, This is how I feel right now.

And sometimes that’s enough.

But My Writing Has Changed With Me

The biggest difference between teenage me and 30-year-old me?

I’m still writing about the difficult things.

But now I weave something else into my words.

Self-care.

Reflection.

Boundaries.

Personal growth.

And those random deep thoughts that seem to show up around 3 AM when my brain apparently decides it’s time for a philosophical discussion.

(I would personally prefer sleep, but apparently my brain has other plans.)

I still write about pain, sadness, and the complicated parts of being human.

But now I also write about learning to be kinder to myself.

About recognizing my limits.

About giving myself permission to be imperfect.

About realizing that healing doesn’t mean never having another difficult day.

And about being 30 years old and still figuring out what I’m doing half the time.

My creativity didn’t become less dark. It just made room for a little more light.

Why I Create

People sometimes ask why I create so many different things.

Art. Photography. Poetry. Blogs. Digital designs. Self-care workbooks. Even apps.

And I think the answer is pretty simple.

Creating has always been how I process the world.

Sometimes I need to write.

Sometimes I need to draw.

Sometimes I need to photograph something beautiful outside because my brain needs a break from itself.

And sometimes I come up with a completely random creative project at midnight because apparently having one hobby was never going to be enough for me.

But underneath all of it is the same reason.

I create because there are things inside me that need somewhere to go.

And because maybe, just maybe, something I create will make someone else feel a little less alone.

Maybe Art Found Me Before I Found Myself

I look back at that teenage girl writing Scars, and I wish I could tell her a few things.

That she doesn’t have to hide every difficult feeling.

That her creativity doesn’t make her strange.

That she can turn those dark thoughts into something meaningful without having to pretend they never existed.

And that one day, she’ll still be writing.

Still creating.

Still overthinking.

Still trying to figure life out.

But she’ll also be learning how to care for the person behind all those words.

Me.

I don’t create because I have everything figured out.

I don’t write because I’ve mastered healing.

And I definitely don’t share my thoughts because I have some magical instruction manual for being human.

I create because it’s part of who I am.

Because art gave me a voice before I knew how to use mine.

And because sometimes the things that find us during our darkest moments become the very things that help us understand ourselves.

I didn’t choose art. Art chose me.

And all these years later, I’m still choosing to create.

Even on the messy days.

Especially on the messy days.

Still creating. Still feeling everything a little too deeply. Still figuring it out.

— Abby | Doing My Best-ish

💭 A little question for you: Have you ever found comfort in something creative during a difficult time? Writing, music, photography, drawing, or something completely different?

I’d love to know what creativity means to you.

For more of my creative wellness resources, personal reflections, and projects, visit AbbyJuli.com.