Reclaiming Joy: From Chronic Pain to Creative Flow

It’s been years since I felt this kind of creative spark, and honestly, I’m just wallowing in it.

For a long time, I let hand arthritis convince me that my crafting days were over. I packed up the beads, put away the clay, and assumed that part of my life was a closed chapter. 

Turns out, I was dead wrong. I’ve discovered the ultimate plot twist: if I actually use my hands, they hurt less. Who knew that the "use it or lose it" rule applied so literally to my joints? 

I’m not just dipping my toes back in; I’m doing a full-on cannonball. My desk is a glorious disaster zone of at least four different projects, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

* The Nostalgic Rosary: I am working on a near-exact replica of a rosary I made over twenty years ago. It’s slow going; I can manage between five and ten beads a day depending on how salty my hands are feeling; but it should be done about a week after my eye pins arrive this Tuesday. Here is a pic of the original rosary. The new one is almost identical, but with a different center piece.

* The Zentangle Factory: This has become a legitimate addiction. I’m churning out anywhere from two to eight images a day. The best part? I have a weekly video chat date with my awesome daughter-in-law where we zentangle together. It’s easily the highlight of my week.

* The Christmas Nativity: I picked up an embroidery kit for my mother, though the manufacturer clearly had a sense of humor; they sent tiny sewing needles instead of actual embroidery needles. I finally got the right hardware today and I’m starting tomorrow. The goal is to have it ready for her by Christmas 2026.

* The Clay Learning Curve: I’m currently learning the ins and outs of air dry clay. It’s a messy, tactile process that’s keeping my fingers nimble while I figure out exactly what this medium can do.

Beyond the physical relief, the biggest shift has been entirely mental. For a long time, the days just kind of bled together, but now I’m waking up with an actual sense of purpose and a genuine reason to look forward to the hours ahead. Instead of the usual grind, I have a desk full of projects waiting for me to tackle them. 

By the time I finally call it a night, I’m physically tired, but it’s that "good" kind of exhaustion; I actually feel accomplished and happy with what I’ve put into the world. It turns out that wallowing in this creative energy was the exact antidote I needed for the depression that had started to settle in. Waking up that creative side after years of dormancy is like finally getting a breath of fresh air. Between the repetitive motion of the beads and the meditative flow of the zentangles, I’ve found a way to turn "physical therapy" into something that actually brings me joy.