My creative artistry patterns over the past three years have been extremely interesting to reflect on. I’ve created some of my best artwork while in extremely low mental health states, but I often needed to pull creation from deep within me. 

I am an artist by trade and spirit. I’m also an artist with depression. May is Mental Health Awareness month, and I’ve been trying to gather thoughts on creativity + depression the last few weeks. ** Please note these thoughts and experiences are my own, and other artists/humans may have different experiences. I am also not a licensed mental health practitioner, these are simply my reflections.

My ideas feel disconnected from my brain. They’re wiggling inside my imagination, but it feels like I don’t have a key to access my ideas. My creative vision feels cloudy—like I’m looking through gray tinted glasses at the work before me. My focus does not come easily and it is really hard to start projects, let alone finish them. The creative flow is rough and tumultuous, not gentle. When I sit down to create, my hands know what to do but my brain makes them freeze. At some point, the instinct kicks in and it comes a bit more easily — like I’m getting on a bike again. 

As an enneagram 4, I thrive on feeling emotionally connected to struggle and emotions — and because my brain is wired that way, I acknowledge I am more susceptible to depression. Because I have an inherent need to feel deeply, it makes me feel like I should be depressed as an artist. My brain tells me that working from a place of suffering makes me more creative.

When creativity is so deeply ingrained in my spirit and also something that makes me feel human, depression takes that away and makes me feel less like myself. A true conundrum and I know it doesn’t make sense, but depression doesn’t give rhyme or reason to conundrums. 

Last year, an artist friend (also an enneagram 4 + deep feeler), told me something her therapist told her. She said, “Kate, we have already suffered enough for our work and we don’t need to any more. We have enough to pull from, and it’s okay to release it and be happy.”

That started shifting my glorified woeful/melancholic/suffering mindset, and was a big reason why I decided to start taking medication. I knew I was at a point (and others told me as well) that I would greatly benefit from meds. I did not think I could get back to myself without them. I didn’t need to be suffering as much as I had been, and being alive could be easier.

After struggling with PTSD, depression and anxiety from events over the past couple of years, I have started to feel more like myself again. I feel more capable of feeling my emotional range without letting them overrun me, and I can more logically work through healing.

I started an antidepressant called Celexa (citalopram) in November 2021, and I wish I would have started it sooner. I believe I’ve struggled with anxiety for most of my life (social anxiety as a kid/youth/high schooler/college student), but that may have actually been anxiety anxiety. I just didn’t know that’s what it was.

The medication has significantly eased my baseline, day to day anxiety levels. Life feels more manageable now that I no longer have daily constant rumbles of anxiety. Depression still lingers but I am starting to see more clearly. Creating good, meaningful work from a depressive state makes me wonder what my hands could do, when I no longer carry depression and can create from a space of joy and light.

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Working as a small business owner is challenging, but even more challenging as an artist with depression. Because small things feel so mountainous over me, it is hard to do tasks I need to do or even create new work. Which makes it more difficult to make money and rely on that income — which only feeds the depressive cycle of feeling like a failure, especially because it’s all on me. 

Of course, depression traditionally makes it difficult for basic functions at home and for self care. It takes a ridiculous amount of energy for me to take a shower, cook good food, wash dishes or tidy up. Let alone package orders and do bookkeeping and manage social media, and all the other administrative things that come with running your own small business.

When I neglect those tasks, it makes my brain feel more cluttered and overwhelmed, which again — makes it harder for me to create. My studio is in my home, and home environment is really important for productivity.

Everything in that cycle is connected, and when some cogs in the machine aren’t functioning — the entire machine is broken.

I’ve started figuring out ways to make tasks easier for me (systems, as my sister Emmy calls them), or to make them feel like rewards that I deserve. Breaking tasks into smaller steps helps them feel more attainable (HIGHLY recommend a book called “Unfuck Your Habitat”). 

I bought a handled sponge that suds soap really well, so washing dishes feels meditative as I watch the bubbles form on my thrifted vintage dishes. 

When I’m hyping myself up to take a shower, I think of it as a relaxing thing for myself and that I deserve to take that time and care for myself. I put on music, set out a towel and comfy clothes, and that helps me get in the water. Creativity comes easier to me when my environment/self are in a healthier space because I feel more grounded and safe.

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More things that are helping me: 

Sage Biscuit, my heeler rescue and best friend. She is truly the biggest blessing of the last two years. Having her helps me wake up in the morning, because she needs me to take her outside and she needs food. I try to eat something when she eats. She also encourages me to go for long walks in our beautiful neighborhood, and that’s good for me because I thrive outdoors. 

I am trying to cut back on alcohol and replace that ritual with things that make me happy. Puzzles, unpacking/decorating my home, and reading are activities that bring me joy. Alcohol is indeed a depressant, and creatives are susceptible to believing alcohol can help them create better work. I thought that for a while, but am learning it’s not true for me. 

I started taking Vitamin D supplements after getting bloodwork done last year. My levels were at 15 ng/mL, which showed a severe Vitamin D deficiency. I noticed my mood improving after starting the supplements, and am excited to be outside again. My new home has big, south facing windows and I have noticed the natural sunlight is good for me. 

I am also moving my body more to ease the disconnect from my limbs. I have never felt comfortable dancing, but I have been trying to dance alone to my favorite songs in my kitchen. That release has been helping me feel more confident and less like a shell. It’s okay if I look silly because the only one watching me is Sage (and she likes jumping around while I move). 

My younger self loved yoga, so I have been doing yoga again. Tuning into things my younger self, Little Kate, liked has helped me a lot too. Imagining that I have a responsibility to take care of Little Kate, and trying to treat myself like I’d want her to be treated has been incredibly healing. 

It is a goal of mine to find a therapist this year, so I can work through my trauma/healing and gain tools to work with. It’s the classic matter of finding a therapist that works with my insurance and making sure I can afford the sessions. It is unfortunate that mental health care is considered a luxury and not a priority, and that it’s difficult to attain financially. But I believe that therapy in hand with medication is important, so I am hoping to prioritize that and find a therapist by my 29th birthday this summer. 

I am trying to reconnect with healthy creativity and joy. After I realized it’s far and infrequent that I feel extreme joy and happiness, I feel a more inherent need to create that for myself and engage in joy-filled opportunities. Being present and not locking myself in isolation has been extremely helpful.

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That was a bit of an unorganized ramble, but hopefully something tucked in those words resonated with you. For people with depression, it’s extremely important to remember that there is a way out and it’s not always going to feel like this. I see artists who live with depression and struggle to create. You are not alone, help is out there and there are people who love you. Medication and therapy are not anything to be ashamed of, in fact they can change lives. If you’re struggling with depression, please speak with your doctor or loved ones. My corner is also open, and while I can’t give professional advice — I have been in it and I’m walking through it. If anything, we can help each other not feel as alone. Big love for you, Lionheart.

I’ve semi-joked for the last few of years that I’d make myself a registry, if I’m not engaged by my 30th birthday. I’m not quite there yet but I’m getting close… my 29th birthday is July 31.

The other day, I re-shared a post on Instagram about celebrating people who are experiencing exciting/healing/hard changes — starting businesses, leaving toxic relationships, healing from trauma, buying a home (Instagram post found here)… and my wheels started turning.

I commented some rambling thoughts on this, saying that single people doing amazing things deserve celebration, too. People who live “non-traditional” lifestyles deserve celebration and support, as do (of course) people who are engaged or having a baby.

Last week, I moved into my dream apartment. The first time I’ve felt mentally “at home,” following several years of pretty substantial locational discomfort and instability.

My new space already feels like a place to cultivate creativity, healing and newfound joy. My entire adult life I’ve felt like a guest where I was living, and I didn’t realize the negative affect on my mental health until just recently. Having a space of your own, one that speaks to your needs and spirit, is invaluable. Unfortunately, it is a luxury, too.

So at almost 29, I scrapped it together and found the means to sign a lease for my dream home. Even more? A home I know that my inner child, Little Kate, would be extremely proud of. A nook for a studio. Big windows for constant sunshine — and for Sage Biscuit to watch the world around us. An archway and wood floors in a beautiful historic building. A short walk away from a coffee shop and a place that sells fresh bread. My home is already starting to look like an art gallery. A haven for my enneagram 4 self, and a place for people to come feel comfortable in. A sanctuary for myself, Sage Biscuit, and my people.

After I posted my ramble on registries for non-traditional events, I had a nearly overwhelming response in my messages. People told me, “Why wait til your 30th birthday, Kate? You’re living in your dream home now, after several years of significant unrest. Let your community support you and celebrate this exciting step with you.” My community told me to make myself and Sage Biscuit a housewarming registry, and I did.

I know it’s not necessarily traditional, perhaps even a little taboo — but maybe it’s time to start changing that. We should celebrate housewarming for single people. We should support people going through a divorce or ending a relationship, as they’re dividing up belongings and finding themselves in need. We should gather in community for people who are starting a small business or need items for their new office after a promotion. Why shouldn’t we normalize creating registries for things we need, and allow ourselves to lean on our community? It’s not tacky. It’s needed.

Life is hard and there is no right way to do it. Times are changing, and it’s harder to define what’s the “normal” path. We all deserve to be celebrated, no matter the stage we’re in. Adopt the rescue pup. Find your dream living space. Start a family in a way that works for you. Remember we’re all doing incredible, sometimes difficult, things for our wild world — and we should celebrate that.

So, I made myself and Sage Biscuit a little registry through Target. I am not expecting anything from this at all, if anything I’m treating it as a mood board so I can save for things that would make my life easier.

Replacing a comforter and sheets on my bed, that were originally from a season that was deeply isolating and traumatic. I would like to imagine a space where I feel like my bed is an area for rest, not sleepless nights.

A step stool so I can actually reach the top cupboards and use them, without needing to ask a taller partner for help.

Finally envisioning things that would truly make functioning easier, as a person who struggles with depression and anxiety.

Putting beauty in organization and stability.

Finally donating belongings I’ve had since college, and replacing those with belongings that help me feel like an adult woman with her life together.

For the first time in my adult life, I sense that I’m finally in a space where I might be able to start leaning into what I need. I want to seek happiness within myself and heal, and my enneagram 4 self largely depends on my surroundings for a sense of peace.

There is power in a person leaning on their community, instead of always trying to scrap it together themselves. There’s power in renewing traditions that are outdated, and normalizing celebrations for non-traditional lifestyles. And there’s also power in more people doing this.

I made a registry for my new home, my dream place to live. A sanctuary dwelling that Sage Biscuit and I can call our own. Maybe this is a gentle nudge to encourage you to make one for yourself. Let your community love on you a little extra. We deserve it.

I’ve had an abundance of words stirring for a few years now. A collection of writing, scrawled in journals and paper scraps and in my phone notes. Some thoughts only known by me, others shared on social media. I’ve slowly been pulling these bits of writing together, curating them for an e-book called “The Earth’s Wild Bones Feel More Alive Here.” Yes, that’s the same title as the collection of weavings I released last summer, and this is intimately tied. These words are for the wild woman, the lionheart, the human seeking just a little more than the expected. That means this e-book is for you.

Here’s a piece of writing from my 2019 archive — the first excerpt shared from “The Earth’s Wild Bone’s Feel More Alive Here.”

“Wild violets and dandelions are meant to find home among the grass fields, speckling unexpected color among the green. Trees can root to the clouds, the earthworms shall nestle in the stars. Let the patches of wildflowers be wild and free, let the space grow as she pleases for even just one summer season. Wild violets and dandelions belong among the green because wildflowers need a home too.

How would our monotonous routines be different if sky and land were reversed? When I was small, I feared that gravity would be turned off and my small body would rocket into outer space, alone. I often looked around me, thinking "If the gravity turns off, I'll grab onto that tree or that rooted park bench. I don't want to go into space." Now my explorer's soul is curious about what drifting among the cosmos would be like. Quiet. Wonder filled.

What if I were hiking into the depths of these dusty red hoodoos and canyons, instead of huddled beneath three cardigans with winter snow outside my bay window? Breathing in the clean air, running my small hands along the ancient red rocks. Small.”

Though the original plan was to release my e-book release into the world at the end of August, I was encouraged by fellow artists to push the date back to late September. This book + these words are so very important to me, and I want them to have space to breathe. I have spent the month of August preparing for a large artist/maker’s festival called Hutchfest, and working part-time at Made in Omaha, and trying to practice rest… so instead of rushing the production of “The Earth’s Wild Bones Feel More Alive Here,” I will release her in September.

You can preorder your copy of my debut (e-)book now for $12, and she will be emailed as a digital copy to you in a few short weeks. The preorder price will go up to $15 on September 1, and I will announce the official release date that day as well. I would be so very honored to share these words with you, dear lionheart.

My dear friends, my heart physically rooted in anxiety and fear the night of October 1, 2017. As I tried to lure myself to sleep after being so very close to the mass shooting in Las Vegas that night, those roots clenched my soul with unfriendly claws. I signed a promise with myself — that I would bravely follow where I felt the Spirit leading me, to soak in all of the possible joy and beauty each day I'm given to wake up. I learned that life is far too short to prolong following the call.

Fear made that promise hard to keep, though. In the months following that night, I have experienced frequent, full-on panic attacks. The memories, the sounds, the fear tends to creep back in as the sun goes down. During those moments, I cannot breathe or feel anything but fear and darkness. I found myself combatting each anxiety battle with vocalized reminders of Camp Fontanelle. The presence of God. Sculptural campfires. Silly songs and cabin chats. Who I was when I worked as a camp counselor. The essence, the goodness of summer camp, all presented a Light Force against anxiety.

There was nothing wrong with my church job, or my life in Grand Island. It was good, normal and safe — but I grew to struggle with feeling mentally aligned with my days. I largely attribute that to my experience in Las Vegas, because I strongly believe that traumatic events can trigger a loss of self.

In complete transparency, I felt my sense of identity slipping away, despite the fact that I consistently preached bravery and wildness. I wanted others to realize their own courage, yet I felt like an impostor and a liar — a Kate I couldn’t recognize in the bathroom mirror.

But my dear friends, I experienced a major heart shift, a beacon of peace and hope on March 25 of this year. I drove down the familiar gravel road to Camp Fontanelle for the first time since my travels to the Southwest. It was raining just a little bit as I made a left turn down the lane. “Washed by the Water” shuffled onto my Spotify playlist.

I parked my car and breathed. Immediately, I could physically feel my spirit rekindling and healing itself. The permanently-rooted anxiety and fear was pulled up by joy and faithfulness. The obvious presence of God, the years of camp memories that make my heart grow towards the sun came flooding back into my soul. I could breathe again, fully and sweetly. The spark of the identity I craved returned. Besides the sanctuary of my family’s home, Camp Fontanelle is the place where I can find the essence of myself. It’s safe.

I realized once I set foot on the camp soil that the Spirit was calling me to use my hands and heart in the forest again. I did not inquire about a position that day, but my feeling was confirmed when Joel, the program director, offered me a job. No application, no interview. Just a simple, “Kate, we have a spot for you here this summer if you want it.”

The decision all happened so very quickly, though it wasn’t a spur of the moment life change. I promised myself that night in Vegas that when a Spirit-led opportunity presented itself, I would seize it. I would take it as my biggest Bravery Mission yet and see how God could use my heart. I think October 1, 2017 sealed the deal that camping ministry is within my calling.

So, back to the forest I will go for my fifth summer — to serve and plant seeds for God’s wild Kingdom at Camp Fontanelle. To remind young people just how seen, worthy, deeply beloved and brave they are, whether they realize it yet or not. My purpose feels strong within a summer camp setting, and I am strong there.

Following God’s call isn’t always easy. There are good things that must be left behind in order to move forward. I’ve grown to deeply care for the people at Trinity United Methodist Church, where I served as the Publications Director for the past sixteen months. I will dearly miss working alongside the genuinely incredible humans I have met there. My good memories and experiences of serving at Trinity have been expansive — from working with the middle school youth group, to creating content for worship services, to my beautiful coworkers and building connections with those who came into the office — a web of goodness will reside fondly in my memories of Trinity. I am a better human from working there, and I am grateful for that.

With a sense of bittersweetness, I have resigned from my job at Trinity and will be moving out of my little, dear apartment at the end of April. Most of my belongings will live in a storage unit for the summer, aside from my camp counselor necessities.

I’ll move back to Fontanelle a few weeks before training starts — time that I will use to completely reset my heart before my camp counselor duties begin. Hikes, fire building, yoga in the forest, writing words for my book, painting murals in the lodge basement, deep breathing in the clean air. Regaining my sense of identity, rooted in bravery.

I am walking into my fifth summer as a camp counselor with a different mindset than my previous four summers. I was young, excited and ready to serve. I still certainly carry those pieces of the past — but now with an unusually heavy desire to soak in every moment of beauty and wonder in this little life I own.

This will be a summer of personal discernment, as I don’t have a plan set up for after August. I remind myself that it’s okay to not have plans because opportunities for beautiful adventures rest in the unknown. I would be a hypocrite to preach on Bravery Missions if I didn’t take gambles on trust and discernment. The future seems hazy, but oh — my life’s trail is certain to be one of growth towards the sun.

Abraham was called to go forth with Fearless Faith and to make a great nation, thousands of years ago. He did it. I’m going back into the forest, Chacos and water bottle in tow. I’m going to grow towards the sun, and so are you.

Bravely,

Kate Laing

Rivers in the Wasteland Available Now: http://smarturl.it/NTBWasteland © 2008 WMG Washed By The Water (video)

The earth is waking up again. Roots growing underneath the soil probably look like the weavings of my soul and my dear friends, the ground is breaking. I can feel it in resonating, vibrating through my bones. The blooms will grow, the rain will speckle the sidewalks. The earthworms will emerge after nestling away. 

It's Holy Week. We know that darkness is going to creep across the horizon soon, but do not fear because the sun will rise in just a few days. The grave will be empty and each lingering heart flicker will be resurrected. Hope will no longer be scattered because it'll be growing towards the sun. 

I made a little playlist for you if your heart is in need of the sun, the hope, the resurrection right now. Stay steadfast. Be rooted and let the earth hold you tight. Easter is coming, loves. 

A playlist featuring Rend Collective, NEEDTOBREATHE, John Mark McMillan, and others