Lately in Neurodivergent Art Club, a few people have shared something that I think many of us know deeply:
“I’m feeling directionless… hard to apply my mind to anything… still triggering post-exertional malaise… it’s hard to balance my long-neglected social needs with stretching my creative muscles when the basics already take most of my capacity.”
“I feel like I’m going round and round in ever-decreasing circles… can’t seem to organise for toffee, or get anything meaningful done…”
First, if this is you - you’re not broken, you’re not failing, and you’re not alone.
The frustration is valid. But the self-blame? That’s the bit we can soften.
If you are one of my Patreon or Substack supporters, I have created a little resource for you to help with this.
You Are Not a Machine
We live in a culture that treats people like production units, constantly measuring ourselves by output: how much art we make, how tidy our homes are, how many tasks we’ve ticked off.
If you’re neurodivergent, chronically ill, burned out, grieving, or just human in a hard world, that measuring stick becomes a weapon you turn on yourself.
But here’s the truth: you are not a producer of content, chores, or art. You are a living being.
Your value isn’t in what you produce, it’s in YOU.
You are allowed to just be.
Fallow Periods Are Not Failures
In farming, a field is left fallow to rest and recover. In nature, winter is a time of stillness underground.
Creativity works the same way. There will be seasons where the work is visible, tangible, bursting into bloom… and seasons where it’s happening quietly, invisibly, inside you.
If you’re in a fallow period, it doesn’t mean nothing’s happening. It means your inner soil is replenishing. Forcing constant output only depletes it further.
When You Feel Directionless
When energy is low and the fog is thick, drop the idea of “meaningful progress.” Instead, think in terms of connection and kindness.
Ask what you need, not what you “should” be doing.
Do you need rest? Comfort? Expression? Gentle stimulation?Lower the bar to the smallest possible action.
A scribble. Gluing down one scrap of paper. Taking a photo of the light on the wall.Let creativity be a companion, not a project.
Keep a basket of low-effort supplies nearby. Do a little when you can. No deadlines, no pressure.Balance your needs.
If social time is draining you, scale it back a little and build in recovery. If you’re lonely, find small, low-energy ways to connect (online chats, voice notes, co-working calls).
Enjoying Other People’s Creativity Counts Too
We often think of creativity as something we must do alone, but we’re social beings — our creative spark is fed by others. Sometimes, the kindest way back into making is to spend time with someone else’s work. Watch a video of an artist painting. Read a novel, a poem, or a blog post. Visit a gallery, a gig, or a craft market. Let their colours, words, and rhythms seep in. You’re not “wasting time” — you’re tending the forge, keeping it warm until you’re ready to light your own fire again.
Some Tiny Creative Actions for Low-Capacity Days
Stick three things into a notebook and call it collage.
Draw something using your non-dominant hand.
Arrange objects on your table by colour.
Write a single sentence in a notebook.
Press leaves or petals inside a book.
Listen to a song and doodle the shapes it makes in your mind.
None of these need to “become” anything. They’re seeds you scatter — some may grow, some may not. That’s okay.
Be Gentle With Yourself
If you take one thing from this, let it be this: beating yourself up will not make you create more.
Those feelings of frustration are real and valid — but you can honour them without letting them spiral into self-punishment.
Kindness is not indulgence. It’s soil for whatever will grow next. And sometimes, the bravest, most radical act is to rest, refuse to measure yourself by output, and trust that you will come back to making in your own time.
I’d love to hear from you — what’s one tiny, kind thing you could do for yourself this week?
No pressure, no goals. Just one act of connection with your creative self.
If you are one of my regular supporters on Patreon or Substack, I have made a little playbook called 'Low-Energy Creative Compass: A gentle guide for when you feel directionless, foggy or just plain stuck.
