I can’t blame my loss of creative edge on postpartum. It did, however, worsen from pure exhaustion due to low iron. At 15 months, after 6 months of supplementation, I have learned how severe my birth injury was. It didn’t help that I spent the seven years prior on a plant-based diet. I can now see on my records that my levels plummeted. By the time I had a child, I didn’t understand iron’s effects or importance. I couldn’t advocate for something I didn’t understand. As I diligently work toward feeling better, I notice that recovery is making me sit with realizations that crept up over those seven years, starting with my diet change.
I lost my creative edge.
I sat in discomfort through corporate jobs, feeling like an imposter, as my energy slowly plummeted and I lost the desire to practice my skill. I went from wanting to be highly sought after to hiding from the mental prison of imposter syndrome. Funny how imposters don’t have this syndrome. They embody the persona effortlessly. Yet here I am, feeling out of place without the ambition that used to carry me through.
I wonder what my reality would be had I known the effects of becoming plant-based and the side effects low iron causes. I’m curious to see if my hair will flourish in ways that felt like a plateau. I’m sitting with questions that haven’t presented themselves until now, because I finally have the mental clarity to process them.
I used to innovate.
I tried new creative processes in writing and design.
I put myself out there without the fear of failure.
I dreamed loud.
Along the way, when the ideas crashed and support was scarce, I questioned it. Especially as you age, and career and money to pay bills and live creep in. You realize you don’t have the luxury of innovating for fun when your car note is due, and doctor’s visits add up because the body starts doing weird things: neck pain, ankle sprains, extra bones in feet, cellulitis, shoulder impingement, back spasms. You can relate if you’re 26 or older. I remember my doctor telling me that what we do now, as we approach our 30s, will carry us through the next 10 to 15 years.
After college, I prioritized fitness and recently felt I should become a personal trainer. During the pandemic, I stayed dedicated to my fitness goals and decided to cut out cardio to lift weights only—worst decision ever, especially since I skipped the basics of form and 360 breathing. Even before I became pregnant, I wasn’t recovering well after workouts, but I kept going anyway. By a year postpartum, the pain became unbearable. I couldn’t sleep, I was always sore, my back spasmed, and I couldn’t lift my arms over my head. I found a program that took me back to the foundations, focusing on breathing before adding any weight. This is the first time in about five years that I’m pain-free and sleeping through the night.
I find myself often pushing through pain or discomfort without acknowledging the source: God calling me back to surrender, back to dependence on him. I lost my creative edge and have spent the last few years feeling like something is wrong with me, like I’m supposed to pivot and do something else entirely. So I’d chase a new identity: maybe I should become a fitness instructor. But no matter what I tried, it didn’t fill the void or scratch the creative itch deep within. I love design, the creative process around branding, helping others see how to show up authentically. I didn’t lose the love. I lost the zeal to execute. God has me returning to the basics, starting with acknowledging my dependence on him.
The basics keep showing up. Form and breathing before weight. Surrender before striving. And now I see it’s the same in my creative work: foundation before execution. I spent years trying to force the output, chase the next idea, prove I still had it, without ever going back to what actually brought me to life in the first place. Maybe I didn’t lose my creative edge. Maybe it’s something I buried under exhaustion, striving, and the fear of not being enough, and going back to the basics is how I dig it back out.
I’m finally able to sit with the discomfort of knowing something isn’t right, and it’s not where I should be. Not in my body, not in my career, not in my creative work, not in my closeness with God. One area went out of alignment first, and it spilled into the rest until I couldn’t tell anymore where the ache started. Yet God is faithful enough to be with me through it, in it, around it, as I write for the one like me who sees more for themselves, but the path became blurry, and the dreams stopped forming.
Maybe you’ve felt this too.
The dream that stopped forming.
The path that got blurry somewhere between surviving and striving.
If you’re reading this and nodding, you know exactly what I mean.
We sat in the discomfort for too long. We can’t afford to make more excuses. And it’s here we tell God: listen, I don’t know what to do next, but You do. This is where we pick up our Bible again and send up a breath prayer if that’s all you can muster. Eventually you’ll be further along, and this will be another chapter in your story of becoming.
With intention,
Janae Carlee
I also sat down and recorded this same season on video, but it’s not the same as what you just read. It’s marriage, it’s the day to day, it’s me figuring some of this out in real time on camera. If today’s essay left you wanting more of the story, come sit with me a little longer here.