It has been proven time and again that a creative outlet is essential for helping a person overcome some of the challenges of living with chronic illness. A Google search of the phrase "creativity and chronic illness" returns nearly 4 million results, more than 37,000 of them scholarly articles.
I first became ill in late 2008. My first warning sign was intractable neck pain, followed shortly thereafter by debilitating headaches that were exacerbated by coughing, laughing, or any other type of straining. In January 2009, I was diagnosed with Chiari Malformation, a rare neurological condition in which the hind part of the brain herniates through the skull into the neck, presses on the brain stem and spinal cord, blocks the flow of vital fluids, and causes a multitude of symptoms. My journey from symptoms, to diagnosis, to surgery was a mercifully short one, unlike most diagnosed with this life-changing condition.
Many things changed for me in the months leading up to my first brain surgery. I experienced the full gamut of emotions and began to go through the grieving process. Following surgery, I experienced several complications and setbacks, the greatest of them being meningitis, for which I was hospitalized almost a month. After recovering from the surgeries, illnesses, and trauma, I settled into a life that very closely mirrored my life before illness. I began to take it for granted until, in late 2011, I began to recognize some very familiar symptoms.
By early 2012, new, unfamiliar symptoms began to emerge and my world was again thrown into a tailspin as I struggled with how to proceed, having lost my health insurance nearly a year before. In April 2011, I was put on medical leave, eventually had to completely abandon a job I loved and, with it, the health insurance it provided.
For nine months, I felt an overwhelming sense of loss, one triggered by an identity tied to my very rewarding work with pediatric hospitals. My inability to work left me wondering who I was and what contributions I was making to the world. I felt worthless much of the time and wasn't sure what my next step would be.
In January 2012, I began experimenting with a few DIY craft projects I stumbled across on Pinterest, largely out of boredom. By February, I had discovered my niche and, on February 9, Weathered Porch Creations was born. I opened my Etsy shop, began building stock of the things I enjoyed creating, and waited for the sales to roll in. When they didn't, I began researching ways to become more successful, I started advertising and networking, and I kept track of shop stats to better understand what shoppers were interested in.
I had spent so much time dwelling on the things I was no longer able to do and, for the first time in months, I began to focus on the things I could do. I discovered that a "handcrafted business" was a way for me to make a little extra income in a manner that involved something I enjoyed doing, allowed me to make my own schedule, afforded me the opportunity to work when I could and rest when I couldn't, and made me feel as though I was being a productive member of society again.
Weathered Porch Creations has given me a creative outlet in which to focus the energies and stresses that come with chronic illness. It has provided me with low-key, repetitive activities which have been shown to have positive effects on brain function. It has been the one thing that's helped me through some serious emotional challenges in the past several months, including being declared "permanently and totally disabled," and being put in a wheelchair.
My favorite part about running WPC is that it reminds me a lot of Christmas. For me, the best part of Christmas is the pure joy I feel when watching loved ones open a gift I've carefully and thoughtfully selected for them, and seeing the surprise and excitement on their faces as they discover a beloved treasure inside. With WPC, every time I receive a thank you note from a customer telling me that their package arrived, that they are happy with their purchase, and that the product is exactly what they were looking for, it almost feels like I'm there watching them open it, just as though they were unwrapping a gift from me on Christmas morning.
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