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I first heard someone split individuals into these two buckets a few months ago: creators and consumers.
(I *think* it was Tieghan Gerard in a podcast interview, saying she loves to spend her time creating rather than consuming. I’m sure all who bombard her with revulsion over her physical appearance would love to be disgusted by the quote.)
I remember it as almost a throwaway comment that seemed obvious and straightforward to whoever said it (again, I think it was Tieghan but I can’t say with certainty because I consume so many podcasts!!! They often blur together.).
So, at its simplest: if you’re not creating, you’re consuming. Reading between the lines, creating has the moral high ground between the two.
I don’t remember anything else about that conversation (clearly lol) because my mind hooked onto that differential. It’s been hooked for months now and it’s felt like a slow, steady burn. The burn of a fire under my butt that I’ve desperately needed someone to light on my behalf (I’m far too busy consuming to light it myself).
I’ve been reflecting on being a creator vs a consumer for months now and my key takeaway is that I am a ridiculously, impressively, amazingly strong consumer. A true 11/10 Consumer. As a consumer, I’ve grown stronger and stronger each year.
I used to love to write — I now exclusively consume others’ written words. I used to bake every week — I now bake vicariously through The Great British Baking Show (and am a ruthless judge). I used to contribute with gusto to group conversations (or at least have an interest in doing so on occasion) — I now prefer to sit in mutual silence so I can scroll my Instagram feed without having to feign interest in my husband’s question games of “would you rather” (e.g. “would you rather have a million dollars and live for one more year or live for 100 more years and have a dollar a day?” types of questions. He LOVES these.). I used to love to knit — I’m now a master online fashion bargain hunter. Most recently, I used to love making delicious products for moms (I co-founded a food brand and we made cookies, teas, and seasonings for motherhood) — I’m now a stay-at-home mom using any and every spare moment trying to “rest up” rather than live my life.
All this consuming is exhausting.
The list goes on and the trend line continues.
Over the past few months, I’ve become disenchanted with myself as I recognized the harsh reality of the rather unflattering, uninteresting role I’ve taken on in the story of my life: a consumer with lots of dreams and ideas, but not enough time to explore or engage with any of them (my iPhone’s screen time report proves this); hardly compelling “main character” energy. I wouldn’t pay to watch the movie.
There are, of course, times and spaces where consuming is absolutely appropriate, energizing, even inspiring. And I think there are a lot of times where creating would feel more fulfilling and is absolutely doable — I’ve just opted for the easier, lazier route, chipping away at my individuality one Great British bake-off at a time.
I’m addicted to consuming and afraid of creating. Consuming the world around me feels so effortless, but I find it always leaves me wanting more. I’m never completely satisfied after consuming — I want more funny content, more tasty food, more art made by others for me to enjoy.
Just thinking about creating brings me energy — I have dreams of opening local gathering spaces, knitting beautiful clothes for my baby, writing a book, learning to sketch, painting rooms and designing spaces, etc. But the fear of failure and the ease of just not creating today leave me putting these things off one more day, and then another. I’m always waiting to feel more energized, to have more time, to have more ease before I dive into creating anything. In reality, I know that I always feel more energized — and time and ease show up for me — when I show up for myself and my life in this more active and intentional way. When I create for the fun of it, because it’s something that I’m excited about and it brings me joy.
My disenchantment with my passive role in life has finally reached a tipping point. I’m over it and I’m over being grumpy about it and disappointed in myself at the end of each day.
So I’m now on a quest to create more than I consume. I started this journey in earnest a few weeks ago (holding myself to daily writing, learning to sew and craft instead of just saving projects that look interesting in a “fun ideas” folder, etc.). I have no idea where it’ll take me, but I have a good feeling it’ll bring me more joy.
I also have a feeling I’m not the only one eager to get this childlike spark back in my daily life. If this resonates with you at all, I’m inviting you along on this journey with me. The irony of sharing this via Substack is not lost on me (i.e. if you find this, you’re inevitably consuming), but my sincere hope is that reading this just might light the fire under your butt. Maybe at the end of this post, you’ll get off your bum and go create something.
If you don’t know where to start, I’ll share bits and pieces weekly of what I’m creating as I go. You may find something that you want to create, too.
Today, this is what I’m calling my creation. My first publicly shared post that will likely be read by a total of 3 people: my husband, my mom, and my dad. Yay! Hope you guys go create something. (Davis, hair pets and back massages count as creations.)
Thank you for being here. I can’t wait to keep untangling this all with you :) I’ll continue to share what’s on my mind every week. Some of it may excite you and some of it may upset you. Some of it may bore you (my writing muscles have atrophied; I’m grateful for this space to rebuild strength!). My sincere hope, if you choose to stick around, is that you’re willing to reflect and engage with an open mind and heart.
I am with you. So much more fulfilling to create than to fall into a vortex of meaningless consumption. However, I find meaningful articles here that don’t leave me with dopamine delirium or feeling weary and like I’ve wasted time doing nothing useful. I am writing a book called Tenderly Transformed: Growing and Healing Through Turbulent Times. In one chapter I address the turbulence that addictive patterns bring and ways to regain balance. Those screen time reports tell all. Fiercely guarding my focus is vital to finishing a book. But I also want to reclaim the joy of mindful living like I had as a farm girl feeding the calves or riding my horse through the woods.
PS I will proudly consume this without an ounce of guilt. But love the irony callout, ha!