Pandemic Sadness and the Creativity Cure

In May, we were a couple of months into self-quarantining and feeling rather restless.

“Liv, bring me your makeup. Let’s play,” I said.

She jumped up, and we got to playing.

I’ll never forget the mood we were in during that season. We hadn’t seen much of our family or friends. Alex and I were internally stressed, processing weird 2020 things like toilet paper shortages and the uncertainty of whether school would ever resume. I was acutely aware of the kids’ downtime and emotional adjustments. I felt the weight of judgments around our personal choices and politics. And on top of it all, I was trying—really trying—to stay positive and motivational.

Still, we were in a slump.

I felt the need to change the energy in the space. So my little muse and I buzzed around the house, gathering what we needed to get creative.

Liv has this natural desire to transform herself. She gets that from her momma.

By 13, I was already performing in community theater. Unlike Liv, I was a quiet, soft-spoken teen—until I stepped on stage and transformed into someone else. She, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to have that contradiction. She’s extroverted, expressive, unreserved. But both of us understand the power of self-expression and the magic of cathartic performance.

And this was cathartic.
It suited the mood—a bit of sadness about being inside. A performer with nowhere to go.

And yet, we laughed throughout our little session. The energy was alive and buzzing. The rest of the family barely noticed us, but we were lit up inside.

Spontaneous creativity is wildly underrated. It’s a fantastic way to shift a mood. Even creating something tinged with sadness can feel electric and fulfilling for the people making it.

I won’t remember every specific day of 2020.
But I’ll remember how I felt.
And I’ll remember what we did to manage those feelings.

This moment with Liv is on that list.