Holistic Lifestyle Coaching by Patricia Philippe

Creativity for Self-Care, Discovery and Wellness

If you think back to when you were a child, what activities did you enjoy?  How did these activities make you feel?  As we get older, it seems that we are too busy with work, family and other responsibilities to nurture our creativity.  But studies show that having a creative outlet in an environment where you can express yourself without judgement can nurture your emotional health. Expressing your creativity can be a great tool for self-care and wellness.  Whether it be creative writing, drawing, painting, photography or something else, engaging in creative activities can ease feelings of stress and anxiety.  

Don't think you're creative? I bet there's something inside of you that wants to come out. In fact, it's through a journey of self-discovery and exploration that we discover talents we didn't know we had or connect with parts of ourselves that are hidden.   It wasn't until I was in my early 40s that I discovered creative writing as a tool for healing and building my confidence.

In 2014, after many years of self-discovery and healing through creative writing, I trained as a creative writing group facilitator using the Amherst Writers and Artists Method (AWA). The core philosophy behind this method is that a writer is simply someone who writes & every writer has a unique voice. AWA workshops follow a proven method that affirms writers by building confidence, creating an atmosphere of equal exploration, and protecting confidentiality.  I'm all for experiences and opportunities to help you find your hidden treasure and delighted to facilitate that for you.  If you're an introvert looking for an outlet for self-expression, creative writing can be a tool for finding and shining your hidden light while also improving your mood. 


Schedule a 30-minute private creative writing session today


Hot Mess
©2012 Patricia Philippe

I live on air, accepting things as they come, but sometimes I drink, when I know not who to be in this hot mess. I drink life. 

My lies crawl around my knees craving salt and a hairbrush that doesn't make my scalp itch. 

"Make your life a story worth telling," they said. So I sat and signed a dozen books in school girl print like the bold woman who just stepped out of a cave, but still clings to the little girl inside.  Who is she to have cheated fate and outlived hideous designs drawn on her bedroom walls not by her own hands?

Last night they fed me some Cream of Wheat when it was the mayi moulin of my ancestors that I craved.  A sharp pain in my lower left abdomen reminds me i'm alive, imperfect and slightly broken, but almost ready to get that tear in my heart stitched.

They all want to drink but there isn't enough breast milk. One sits by the empty crib, waiting for what he doesn't know will come.  Rather than snatch his dreams from the sky, he waits for it to rain a melody he can dance to. 

How long will he sit, dying from a thirst he can't name? Waiting for whatever...accepting whatever. But me?  I drink.

I live on air, accepting things as they come, but sometimes I drink, when I know not who to be in this hot mess. I drink life.