When Survival Mode Steals Your Spark

You know those times when your brain just doesn’t brain anymore?

When reading feels like wading through treacle, creativity is nowhere to be found, and your phone becomes a third arm because doom-scrolling somehow feels safer than doing what you actually want to do?

Yeah, same.

In this week’s podcast episode, I opened up about a moment that quietly rewired my entire nervous system: the day my gran died when I was 12.

I didn’t realise it at the time, but that grief — that massive, unspoken trauma — didn’t just take my gran. It took my ability to learn. To focus. To play. To create.

And no one around me saw it. Not the teachers, not my parents, not even me. I just thought I’d gotten dumber overnight.

But what I now know is this: trauma puts your brain into survival mode. And survival mode is a creativity killer.

What Survival Mode Really Looks Like

It’s not always dramatic. It’s often invisible. For me, it was:

• Overthinking everything

• Constant multitasking

• Feeling “lazy” when I tried to rest

• Struggling to start things I loved (like painting or writing)

• Needing background noise 24/7 because silence felt too loud

And the most heartbreaking part? I stopped seeing myself as smart. I loved learning. I was that annoying kid who read encyclopedias for fun. But grief snatched that spark — and I spent decades thinking it was my fault.

The Turning Point

Recently, I took the VIA Character Strengths Test (do it, babe — it’s free and actually useful) and discovered my number one strength is a love of learning.

That hit me in the gut. Because deep down, I knew that about myself — but trauma had buried it under cortisol, perfectionism, and people-pleasing.

So now? I’m gently rebuilding a life where that part of me gets to shine again.

Creativity Is Not a Luxury — It’s Medicine

We don’t just create for fun. We create to heal. To feel joy. To process pain. To remember who we are when life tries to make us forget.

If you’re feeling stuck, scattered, or switched off, ask yourself:

• What lights me up when no one’s watching?

• What did I love before I learned to be afraid?

• What might my nervous system need before it can feel safe to play again?

And then do one tiny thing today to honour that answer.

(Like reading this blog. Which means you’ve already started. You’re doing it, babe.)