Tell me if this sounds familiar: you’ve been feeling this desire to do something creatively. You want to write, there’s a story brewing inside of you. Maybe you want to learn how to crochet or knit, finally make that lime green sweater you’ve been dreaming of. Yet somehow, the evening is spent bent over your phone, scrolling on your Social Media drug of choice.

I’m not judging this. I say this as someone who’s been there, and sometimes still is there. I say this as someone who recognises the pull of the phone and the escape that social media offers.

A hard day at work, the laundry piling up, dishes sitting in the sink and the dust on the floor gathers for another day. There are always too many household tasks to be done. And when you have endometriosis, there’s an extra layer on top of all of that. Some days your body has already taken everything you had before you even got to the dishes. Those days doing nothing doesn’t feel like a choice, but rather the only option. On those days, the idea of giving yourself permission to create feels almost absurd. You’re just trying to get through.

And so, when we finally feel well, on our good days, and our to-do list is a page long, we don’t feel like we’ve earned our creative time. It’s difficult to give ourselves permission. It’s like we see those days of ‘doing nothing’, when we were actually just surviving, as our only allowable downtime. We engage in the strangest mental loops, i.e. “No, I haven’t earned creative time, but instead I will scroll through hours worth of YouTube shorts.” When we finally resurface, it’s late, it’s bedtime, the art remains unmade and the dishes stay in the sink.

It’s so difficult to give ourselves permission to create when we’re already juggling so much and when our ‘good days’ are so limited.

Now this is where I could write you an article about how the only person who needs to give you permission is you and we’d feel all warm and fluffy reading it. But, we’d walk away still not knowing how to actually do that. Because truth is, you already know all of that. You know you don’t need anyone to tell you that you’re allowed to pick up a new hobby or spend your whole evening writing a poem. You’re an adult! You can eat a giant tub of icecream if that’s what you want to do. Not me, though. I’m lactose intolerant. It would be stupid if I did that.

I could also give you the advice to write yourself a permission slip, write it on a pink post-it and stick it to your bathroom mirror. You will see it every morning while you say your affirmations, “I’m an amazing artist”, and that way you will start the day off in the right mindset. Magically, you will start creating.

We all know that type of content. We’ve all read it. But theory and practice are two different things.

Here’s what will really help you: get uncomfortable. Progress can only be made if we allow ourselves to look at where we’ve come from. That little inner critic telling you you shouldn’t make art? That voice is coming from somewhere and it’s giving you important information. Listen to what it’s telling you. Write it down for bonus points.

With endometriosis, that inner critic often has extra ammunition. You’ve spent months, often years, having your body let you down in ways you couldn’t predict or control. The flares, the cancellations, the things you had to say no to. It’s easy for that history to become its own reason not to start: why begin something I might have to abandon on a bad day?

Your inner critic will be giving you a variety of reasons why you shouldn’t give yourself time to expand your creativity:

You’re not good enough, so why bother? You can’t even paint/crochet/knit/insert hobby of choice, so why should you spend time on it? — The voice of perfectionism

You should be doing the dishes/laundry/cleaning first and then you can do something you enjoy — The voice of responsibility

You should look after others first. Why are you only thinking of yourself? — The voice of people-pleasing

Are you going to turn this into a side hustle? Because that’s the only way in which having a hobby is actually worthwhile, otherwise don’t bother — The voice of productivity

Why are you being so weird? Your mum/dad/brother/best friend will judge you and your art — The voice of judgment

There may be many other things your inner critic is telling you, above are only a few examples. My point is, listen to what that annoying voice is saying to you because that’s how you get to the heart of the problem. I can dive deep into why we hold some of these beliefs, but for now, it doesn’t really matter.

What matters is what you’re telling yourself and how we now get past that.

Here are a few things that worked for me, as someone whose inner critic said all of those things mentioned above.

Bypass that voice of perfectionism and judgment — create intentionally shitty art. Paint the ugliest painting you can imagine, get all the techniques wrong. Write a story so bad you can’t even proofread it. Draw something even a four-year-old would frown at. Knit some socks, or is it a scarf? Who knows, I can’t tell. If you set out to create something intentionally bad, then no one can judge you, not even you. Whatever anyone thinks about your creations, it doesn’t matter because you weren’t trying to make a masterpiece anyway.

Remind yourself of all the health benefits you get from creating, especially helpful for those of us with endo. Your stress will lower, your mood will improve, you’ll have more confidence, you’ll manage your emotions better and so on. There’s also specific research showing that creative activities can reduce cortisol levels which is relevant for us, because chronic pain and stress have a way of feeding each other, and anything that interrupts that loop is worth paying attention to.

Start with 15-minute bouts of creativity. You have a lot going on and some days your body has already done hard work just getting you through the day. You do not have the time or energy to lose yourself in hours and hours of play. So, give yourself only 15 minutes. That’s enough time to take out a little set of watercolour paints and paint a tiny bouquet of flowers. It’s enough time to write a few words on your laptop or in your notebook. It’s also enough time to flick through a few magazines and find some cool pictures for your next collage. 15 minutes, that’s all you need to commit to right now. And on the bad days, five minutes counts too.

Make it easy for yourself. Keep your supplies somewhere easily accessible. That way, when you get to your 15 minutes of creativity, you don’t have to spend all of them trying to locate your supplies. I have a small field set of watercolour paints and a tiny sketchbook that live on the dinner table. My notebook and pen rest on the bedside table. My collage supplies are all gathered in one convenient Sistema box in the living room. If you’re into knitting or crocheting, you could keep those supplies near the TV so you can pick them up when you’re delving into a good Netflix show.

In the end, the fluffy articles are right. No one is going to come around and give you permission. You will have to do it yourself. And when you do, you will notice that the world didn’t pause. Your to-do list will still be there and some people will judge you. But you will have made something, you will have created something with your own hands. It’s a tiny act of resistance when your body is screaming out it has other plans for you.

Written by: Sophie S.

Sophie is a proud member of the FLARE team and also the author of This Is Sophie Today. Her Substack focuses on reconnecting with creativity, slow living and going analog for busy professionals. Sophie has lived with Endometriosis for twenty years and wants to share her experiences with the community, to support others living with this illness.

This is a feeling many of us with endometriosis know well. A bad endo day is a reality for a lot of us. Your mind is awake. Your ideas are there. But your body objects.

When your body is very clearly telling you that you need to rest right now, you really only have one option: REST.

I’m not great at resting, or so everyone around me tells me.

It’s difficult when your mind is wide awake. When I was recovering from my latest endo-related surgery, I struggled with this. I had all these creative ideas. I had all these things I wanted to do, but I couldn’t really move my body or even sit upright on a chair for long periods of time.

Busy minds tend to worry. Or at least, my busy mind tends to worry. And so that’s what I did. I stressed about not being able to create, about not being able to write, about having all these ideas in my mind, and where they will go if I don’t do something with them.

Have you ever read that story in Elizabeth Gilbert’s book Big Magic? The one about creative ideas that come to you, sent as a gift for you to do something with, and if you don’t act on them, the idea floats on to someone else. I worried my ideas would just float on to the next person because I couldn’t act on them.

It’s difficult staying in bed and focusing on rest. It’s like losing the freedom of choice, the freedom to stay or go whenever I please, the freedom to move my body when I want to.

Living with endometriosis means you’ve probably lost that freedom more times than you can count. A flare that cancels a plan. A bad week that swallows a weekend whole. A pain day that arrives and sits there until it’s ready to leave.

So what do you do when the creative spark is there, but the energy isn’t?

I’ve learnt something during my surgery recovery, something I already knew but needed to be reminded of: creativity doesn’t need to happen in a busy productive space, it can happen even when not feeling well. Creativity isn’t about producing a lot, it’s not about performance, it’s not about putting in hours. Creativity can happen in unexpected spaces. It can happen when all you can do is lie in bed or laze on the couch.

The myth of the productive creative is particularly unhelpful on days like this, when the body literally says ‘no’. And for those of us managing a chronic condition, those days aren’t rare. They’re part of the deal. I’ve definitely fallen into the trap of thinking it’s all about output and that, if I could just put in the hours, it’ll be ok. Where have I heard that unhelpful thinking before? That’s right, hustle culture, productivity gurus, lifehacking influencers. It’s that kind of energy that has been seeping into my creative world.

Here are some ways that I’ve experimented with gentle creativity. They’re little moments of creativity to sprinkle across your day, things anyone can do, even when all you can do is rest in bed with a heating pad.

Making voice notes: good ideas start in the mind and when you’re feeling too tired to get out of bed and pick up a journal, just get out your phone and use the voice recording app. Most voice recording apps have a transcriber function nowadays so that’s a nice way to get you started when you do feel well enough to start writing again.

Writing down sentences in a journal: this one is a step up from the previous one and requires you to sit up, grab a pen and a journal. I keep one closeby and whenever I think about a good sentence, I just quickly jot it down so that I won’t forget it.

Picking images from magazines: my favourite hobby! It’s easy to get a stack of old magazines, flick through them and pick out images that speak to you. Just tear out the whole page and worry about doing it nicely later. That way you’ll have a lovely collection of images for when you’re feeling good enough to start collaging.

Sketching in a sketchbook: surprisingly, you don’t need a table at all to make a little sketch. You can sketch with a pen or pencil anywhere. I’ve been using Neocolor II crayons because they don’t make a mess. I use them to get the colour down and then when I’m ready I can grab some water and a brush and really make the sketches pop.

Reading about creativity: perhaps not entirely the same as actually doing something with your hands, but having a good book about your hobby of choice can be a nice way to keep the creative fire going. I’ve been spending some of my time reading through a big book on watercolour techniques.

Books with ideas and inspiration: in line with the previous example it’s a great idea to have some art books close. I treated myself with a beautiful book filled with pictures of avian art. I feel so inspired looking at all the stunning, colourful paintings and sketches in this book.

Knitting, crocheting, needle felting, cross stitch: I don’t do any of these hobbies, but including them for those of you who do. All of these can easily be done while you’re stuck on the couch or in bed. And all of them give your hands something to do while your body takes the time it needs.

Reading: reading in general is always good for inspiration and can be done anywhere. Remember, good writers read a lot.

Slow observations: the first week of my recovery I was too unwell and fatigued to do any of the above things, so a lot of my time was spent just looking out the window. I’ve got a great view, luckily. I felt inspired observing the birdlife and making up little stories about them, like the two magpies who were clearly scoping out the property or the myna who was trying to become friends with Croky, our parrot. This one requires nothing from you.

Creativity starts in the mind. It happens when we pay attention to what’s going on around us. It happens when two unrelated ideas mix. It happens when we allow space for those ideas. Ideation, the process of coming up with ideas, is underrated. Because we can’t see it or measure it, it seems like it’s nothing. But truly, it’s where everything starts.

And for those of us whose bodies have spent years demanding our full attention — there’s something almost radical about reclaiming a corner of the day for making something, even something small, even something no one will ever see.

When I make a zine, the whole thing is designed in my mind before I ever even touch a piece of paper. When I write an article, I’ve already written it in my mind before I even turn on the computer.

The bar for creativity, on the days your body has other plans, is simply this: did you make something? Even something tiny? Even just a voice note, a torn page, a sentence? That counts. It all counts.

Written by: Sophie S.

Sophie is a proud member of the FLARE team and also the author of This Is Sophie Today. Her Substack focuses on reconnecting with creativity, slow living and going analog for busy professionals. Sophie has lived with Endometriosis for twenty years and wants to share her experiences with the community, to support others living with this illness.

I share how my background as an artist and art educator shaped the vision behind FLARE, and why I knew from the very beginning that this needed to be more than just a platform. It had to be a space. A space where people living with endometriosis and chronic illness can create, express, and feel seen without pressure, without judgment, and without the barriers that often exist in the traditional art world.

I talk about the different ways art exists within FLARE, from our upcoming virtual gallery and rotating exhibitions to artist features, workshops, and opportunities to share your work and story in a way that feels right for you. Whether you’re someone who already creates or someone who has never considered themselves an artist before, this episode is about showing you that there is a place for you here.

We also get into the heart behind projects like BLAZE and the larger vision of making art more accessible, more inclusive, and more reflective of real lived experiences. Because for so many people, especially those navigating chronic illness, art becomes a way to process, to communicate, and to heal in ways that words sometimes can’t.

If you’ve ever felt intimidated by the art world, unsure where you fit, or like your experience is hard to put into words, this conversation is for you.

FLARE exists to make the invisible visible and to remind you that art isn’t reserved for a select few. It’s something we all have access to. And it might just be one of the most powerful tools we have to heal.

Keep creating. Keep healing💛

-Priscilla

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I understand the reality is that not everyone who finds FLARE may consider themselves artist. Not everyone wants to share their story publicly. Not everyone is ready to speak, create, or even fully process what they’ve been through yet, but I still want there to be a place for them.

That’s why I created a simple visual flow of how anyone can be part of FLARE, no matter where they are in their journey.

At the center of everything are three core pillars: storytelling, education, and advocacy. Within each of those, there are different ways to engage, depending on what feels right for you.

Storytelling is one of the most important parts of FLARE. It’s about creating a space where people can share their experiences and feel heard. That can be as simple as an Instagram feature where you share a photo and a piece of your story. It can also be something deeper, like joining the podcast or writing an article where you tell your story in your own words. There’s no one way to do it. It’s about choosing what level of openness feels comfortable for you.

Education is another major part of what FLARE is building. This is a big one for me and it comes from both my background in art education and my belief that learning doesn’t have to look traditional. One of the ways we do this is through creative expression. For many women with endometriosis, art can be a way to process pain, to understand your experience, and to express things that are hard to put into words.

That might look like joining a workshop and learning something new, like watercolor or collage. It might mean starting small, with journal prompts that help you explore your thoughts privately, at your own pace. It might look like reading and learning through curated resources that guide you toward more information about endometriosis, health, and advocacy. FLARE isn’t here to be the only source of information, but rather a place that helps you navigate and find what you need.

Then there’s advocacy. This is where the message expands beyond you. It can be as simple as sharing FLARE with someone you know or posting about it on your own social media, but it can also grow into something bigger, like participating in projects that raise awareness through art and storytelling.

One of those projects is BLAZE (“Blazing a Path”), a traveling art and photo project that invites people from anywhere in the world to take part. It’s about using art in different forms, photography, performance, storytelling, to express lived experiences and bring visibility to what so many people go through. Another major piece is the art exhibition, which was actually the original idea that started all of this.

These projects are not just about creating something. They’re about being part of something, and that’s really what FLARE is.

It’s not just a platform or a project. It’s a space where people can show up in different ways, depending on what they need and what they’re ready for. You don’t have to be an artist. You don’t have to have everything figured out. You don’t even have to know exactly how you want to be involved yet. You just have to start somewhere and I hope this imperfect, novice-made Canva document does its job of helping you feel as though you fit in and you belong here.

FLARE is growing into something bigger than I ever imagined, with a team forming, new ideas coming to life, and a vision of becoming an official nonprofit organization. Most importantly, a the heart of it the goal is still the same: to create a space where people feel empowered, seen, supported, and inspired to turn their experiences into something meaningful.

If you’ve been looking for a place like that, I hope you find it here.

I go into all of this in much deeper detail on the podcast which you can watch and listen to here.

Keep creating. Keep healing.💛

Thank you for being here.

-Priscilla

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It meant plans being cancelled. It meant feeling like my body had suddenly taken control of my life again. It meant fear, frustration, and the feeling of having to start over — emotionally and physically — over and over again.

And I know I’m not the only one who feels that way.

For so many people living with endometriosis and other chronic illnesses, the word flare is loaded. It’s not just a medical term. It’s something emotional. It’s something that carries anxiety, uncertainty, and exhaustion with it.

But at some point, I started thinking about something that changed the way I saw it completely.

What if the word flare didn’t have to mean something negative?

Where BLAZE Came From

BLAZE didn’t start as a “project.” It started as a feeling.

I wanted to take something that felt painful and overwhelming and turn it into something that meant strength instead. I wanted to create something that didn’t ignore the reality of chronic illness, but also didn’t let it define the entire story.

BLAZE is really about transformation.

It’s about taking something that feels like it takes things away from you — your energy, your confidence, your sense of control — and turning it into something expressive, creative, and powerful.

Instead of a flare being something that holds you back, what if it could become something that helps you create something meaningful?

Why This Means So Much to Me

Living with endometriosis doesn’t just affect your body. It affects the way you see yourself, the way you plan your future, and the way you move through everyday life.

There are so many parts of this experience that people don’t see:
the emotional weight, the frustration of not being understood, the feeling of having to constantly explain something that’s invisible to everyone else.

BLAZE is my way of turning that experience into something that helps other people feel seen instead of alone.

It’s not about pretending chronic illness is easy. It’s about finding a way to create something beautiful despite it.

Changing the Meaning of “Flare”

One of the biggest ideas behind this project is redefining the word itself.

Right now, when most people hear the word flare, they think of something negative — something painful, something to fear, something that disrupts life.

But words are powerful. And the way we think about something shapes how we feel about it.

What if a flare could also mean:

• strength

• expression

• creativity

• resilience

• growth

What if instead of something that only represents loss, it could also represent transformation?

That’s what BLAZE is really about.

What I Hope This Becomes

I don’t want this to just be something personal to me. I want it to become something that grows into a space where other people can share their stories, their art, and their experiences too.

Something that reminds people that even in the hardest moments, there is still room for creativity, connection, and purpose.

If this project can help even one person feel less alone, or see their experience in a different way, then it’s already doing exactly what I hoped it would do.

Why I’m So Excited About It

For the first time in a long time, I feel like something that once felt painful is turning into something meaningful.

BLAZE isn’t about ignoring what chronic illness takes away. It’s about creating something that gives something back.

And more than anything, it’s about changing the way the world sees the word flare — turning it from something people fear into something powerful, something creative, and something empowering.

To participate in the project FILL OUT the INTEREST FORM here: https://forms.gle/QaydSRQUexUVDeL4A

Thank you for being here.

Keep Creating, Keep Healing💛

Priscilla

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