Mothering Myself Through Creative Practice
This month in my Patreon, I’ve been exploring the theme of dreams — not just the kind that visit us at night, but the ones that tug at our hearts in quiet moments. The ones we don’t always speak out loud. For me, the first dream that surfaced was unexpected.
It wasn’t a goal or a vision board fantasy. It was a daydream — one I’ve returned to many times. In this vision, I’m holding a baby. I’m standing in a cozy cottage, wrapped in sunlight, looking out the window. I feel at peace. Whole. Like everything has finally come together.
It’s surprising because I’ve lived with a lot of fears around motherhood. I’ve gone back and forth for years about having a child and the fears I have around it all, and that’s been an emotionally charged place to sit in. This is what I have been exploring for myself this month in my developing Patreon community.
And then, just as I was sitting with all of this, I received a text message from a person in my past.
We haven’t spoken in probably over four years. The message was simple:
Hi Stephanie, can I have your address? I have some items to send you.
That was it. No context. No warmth. No acknowledgment of the time or distance between us. And suddenly, I found myself dropped back into something I thought I had moved through.
It wasn’t just the message. It was the assumption — the entitlement. As if I owed them access just because of shared history. As if time, pain, and absence didn’t matter. It confirmed what I already knew deep down: that I needed to protect my peace. I didn’t want to brush over this moment just to avoid discomfort. I wanted to choose differently.
Over the years, my creative practice has become a sacred place where I meet myself honestly, where I slow down enough to hear my intuition and work through tangled emotions. Journaling, painting, and even simply playing with color have helped me access a deeper knowing — the kind that doesn’t come from overthinking but from feeling. And this is the reason why I created this space to encourage everyone to invite a creative practice into their own life.
It was through this creative wellness practice that I was able to see this moment for what it was: not just a message from my past, but an opportunity to choose what I want for my future.
I’ve learned through creativity that expression is healing. That when I make space to explore my truth on the page, I gain courage in real life too. I get clearer. I get more rooted.
And that’s exactly what gave me the strength to respond with the boundary my soul has needed.
I wrote back with honesty and clarity. I acknowledged the time and distance between us and expressed how it felt to be contacted out of the blue with no real context or care. I explained that I’ve worked hard to protect my peace and now value relationships that show mutual care and consistency. And that, given the circumstances, I wasn’t comfortable sharing my address.
The reply I received was brief and emotionally flat — just a note saying they had some old items to send me. No acknowledgment of what I had shared. No curiosity. No warmth.
For me, this response felt detached, dismissive, and emotionally bypassing.
And yet... for me, validating.
Because their response confirmed why I needed that boundary in the first place. They didn’t engage with the heart of what I said. They didn’t acknowledge the hurt or the history. They just moved on. And for me, that was all the clarity I needed.
What does this have to do with dreams? Everything.
Because as I sat with my own dream of holding a baby, I started to think not just about motherhood, but about mothering— what it means to nurture, protect, and show up for someone with intention and care. I thought about little Stephanie — and what she would want. Little Stephanie would have jumped with joy for the chance to receive something from this person in the mail. And I realized that if I were her mother (and in some ways, I am now), I would never allow someone to treat her the way this person has treated me.
I would tell her she deserves so much more. She deserves to be seen, and that love should feel safe. That people who want access to her heart must earn it with consistency and kindness.
In terms of my own journey to motherhood, I once heard a story from a woman struggling with whether or not to become a mother. She was asked by a spiritual mentor: "Do you see your child in your dreams?" When she said yes, he responded, "That means there's a soul who's already chosen you to be their mother."
That story has never left me.
And maybe that’s what my dream is. A message. A vision. A whisper from a soul. Or maybe it's just a part of me, longing to be the mother who offers her child acknowledgment, a nurturing experience, and safety. Either way, I know this: dreams don’t always arrive in perfect packages. Sometimes they come wrapped in grief, in boundary-setting, or in unexpected messages from the past.
But when we listen — really listen — they can also show us who we are becoming.
This month, I’m honoring the dream. And I’m honoring the part of me that said: No more. I deserve better. And when I am a mother, I will do better.
If you’re holding a dream that feels complicated or confusing, you’re not alone. You get to protect your peace and still believe in soft futures. You get to want something and question it. You get to rewrite the story.
I hope this reminds you that even in the messiness, you are allowed to choose yourself.
With warmth and glow,
Stephanie 🌸
🌿 If this reflection speaks to something in you, and you're craving a space to explore your own inner world through gentle prompts, journaling, and creative expression, I’d love to invite you to join me inside my Patreon. Each month, I share personal reflections like this one, creative journaling prompts, and supportive ways to reconnect with yourself.
💛 Come as you are. Stay as long as you need. Let’s bloom gently, together.
👉 Join me on Patreon
