I believe that the most urgent of messages show up exactly when we need them most, but the change only happens if we slow down long enough to listen. And if I've learned anything over the last few years, it's just that: slow down.
I had my weekly Say No With Love letter all ready to send out to you folks. But there was something off about it. I reread it a few times and a small thought popped into my head: Is there something I’m not saying? Avoiding? Dancing around? I pushed the thought away and scheduled the letter.
A couple of days later, on Sunday morning (my favourite longstanding protected day), I sat outside to read one of my favourite magazines—Breathe, a lovely publication from the UK. For some unexplained reason, I flipped to the last page. Something told me to read this issue back to front (I just can’t follow the rules, can I? haha). The last article was titled “Opening the lid... on the jar at the back of the fridge.” At first I was like, huh? lol. But then—because my brain also speaks in metaphors—I said ahhh, I got you.
I started reading and immediately felt called out, or poked at. The article, written by Stephanie Lam, was a bite-sized look into exactly what I had on my brain. There was something I was avoiding sharing, even though I know this share is part of what puts an engine behind my desire to grow as a creative. Sometimes there are things holding us back that we are not willing (or ready?!) to look at. Stephanie Lam was speaking directly to me.
a reflective photo session in Montreal
When I look at myself in the mirror, I am oh so proud of where I am. I didn’t just... arrive here. I navigated some of the most tumultuous events in my childhood. I said no to people closest to me taking from me without any curiosity about my life. I battled myself over and over. My 20s and 30s were filled with horrendous decisions that affected my body and soul. When folks were not on my side and scoffed at me wanting more for myself and building my dream from the ground up, I kept going. When people around me didn’t understand why I said no to things others were saying yes to, I kept going. When they didn’t "get" what I was doing at Breathing Space Creative, I kept building anyway. And now, here I am—clear as ever.
But while I was plowing ahead, there were old expired jars collecting at the back of my fridge.
Writing these letters is an opportunity for me to look at and celebrate what I’ve said no to—yes, that’s the whole point—but these letters are also reflection. They are tools. They are markers. Data. They allow me to look at what I’ve written and say, okay, you’re holding something back. And fair enough, I don’t “know” all of the 1000+ of you on the other side. Maybe the resistance is connected to that. But you folks trusted me enough by signing up to receive these letters—so why not just say what is on my heart?
Reflective writing is one of the most powerful tools I’ve ever added to my creative writing toolkit, and I will die on that hill. When it comes to my my life roadblocks, the things taking from my creative life, reflective writing helped me acknowledge them, look at them, understand them, and (the piece that’s often missing) slowly start to remove them from my life—because this one specific old jar not only doesn’t fit with where I am going, it could, in the future, hinder my most pivotal steps forward. I caught something early enough.
The writing craft I’ve learned over the last 10 years is a huge part of me. The creative writing programs, courses, workshops (and yes, I’ve even taught at the MFA level), are invaluable to me. But without reflective writing as a strategic tool, every word I ever write would be a lie.
But the truth is hard to look at, I know.
When you devote time to deep, active reflection—when you allow yourself to sit with the uncomfortable truths that surface in the quiet, when you ask better questions and actually listen to the answers—change is inevitable.
In her article, Stephanie Lam says, “Inside the forgotten jar is stuffed with everything you’d rather not deal with,” and I felt that. I mean, I literally have a bunch of jars at the back of my fridge and I know damn well I’m not eating that expired jar of rhubarb lavender honey blood orange jam. I even went so far as to say “That’s not my jam! Richard bought it.” lol really? We share the fridge, no?
I may think the jar isn’t bothering me, or that I wasn’t the one who put it there—I mean, the fridge door is closed and I only see it when I look, right? But “no fridge can hold abandoned jars forever. However determinedly you ram against the frosty rear wall, they will make their presence known.”
Stephanie just keeps dropping the gems: “You need to deal with the jar at the back of the fridge before it deals with you.”
literally the jar that saved me
Let’s breathe, let’s pause: Anyone who thinks this is easy work has likely never had to protect something as priceless as a creative life. It’s one thing to guard time for the work that pays you—but to show up, again and again, for writing that offers no guarantees? That takes real inner work. Because art is almost always under threat in the conditions of everyday life.
Exhale.
I took the jar out and looked at it. It only had like three spoonfuls left—so what was I hanging on to? What couldn’t I look at? Why is that the jar I see most clearly when I open the fridge? Why am I letting it take up space?
I reread my Say No With Love letter written days earlier—and deleted the whole thing. I opened the fridge, picked up the jar, and opened the lid.
I didn’t want to wait for the day when I opened the fridge, reached for something fresh and delicious, and accidentally knocked the jar over—having its fetid insides fall in a shallow pool of glass at my feet.
But as creatives, we do this all the time. Why?
Dealing with our jars is not pleasant—but what has us believing it’s supposed to be?
When I started Breathing Space Creative halfway through 2018, I had like 27 old jars at the back of my fridge, and yeah, it took me seven years to deal with them—because childhood trauma runs deep. Letting go is lifelong personal work. But seven years later, there was still one jar at the back. And because I had access to all the fresh, farm-made jam I could ever want, I just kept piling on top.
I kid you not, this morning I was making eggs for the fam, and the top part of the fridge shelf came loose from its fitting. Nothing fell, nothing crashed, but the sightline shifted, and the arugula lowered—and all I could see was the gold lid of the rhubarb jam. It was clear: it had to go.
The me of today knew what to do. I have the tools. Hell, I built the tools. Something from my past just does not fit into this lifestyle I’m building for myself, and it’s time to start looking at it. My tools are glorious. I want to use them. I want y’all to use them too.
Me just absorbing my dream of going to New Orleans (2023)
If you have an old, murky jar at the back of your fridge—it might be time for a clear out. When I think about my writing life and what sparked the quick-fire way in which I create and build—and how much joy has come from it—I know it’s because of the 26 jars I’ve already cleared out. But the one that’s been sitting there still... was probably waiting for that shelf to tilt. Because timing is everything. Messages are always there. But we don’t listen—because even if we do, we don’t know how to deal with what we find.
After the jar message slapped me in the face, I opened my journal and reread the last ten entries. Slowly. Carefully. Like I was decoding. And what I saw on those pages lit a little light bulb over my head. The tone. The patterns. The shifts. Oh friends, this was big.
And then something bold ran through me.
What if others could do this too? What if reflective writing wasn’t just an ongoing personal practice—but a life tool that could prepare us for the work we already value? ’Cause you can journal all you want, but learning how to use it? Pivotal.
What if I could guide folks to use their own writing to identify patterns, spot the leaks, and create their own system for making writing a priority in their lives—like really making it a priority? I already do this with the writers I work with, but what if I could turn up the volume?
What if we could become our own practitioner, first—so that when we do seek support from others, we bring deeper insight, clearer questions, and make the most of that time and energy? I have a health team, as I’m sure a lot of you do. A doctor, coach, therapist, editors—you name it. But there is a prerequisite to all of those collaborations: the reflective work. Coming to the table not only with your jam jars, but with a newfound desire to open the lids and make the work you do with these folks even more transformative. Fresh jam, anyone?
Reflective writing in Montreal!
I’m in the middle of creating something that feels really exciting: a Reflective Writing Kit you’ll be able to download at no charge. And because I am a very open person (lol), I’m including some of my own real life journal excerpts (based on that old jar I decided to toss), alongside a gentle guide on how to extract what you need from your own writing.
The folks that trust me enough to check it out will get to learn more about the jar I’m speaking about. It’s probably the most personal share of my life (and that’s saying a lot, because I mean, I did write a hybrid memoir about my childhood). But I also don’t want to share with folks who are not ready to receive such a share. So...
I’d love to know if you are interested in learning how to use reflective writing by being your own practitioner, first...
Those that are interested will be the first to know when this Reflective Writing Kit is ready—and how the jar finally got dealt with. : )
Ps this is a big deal so if you know anyone, writer or not, who could benefit from this newsletter, please share it with them.
Are you interested in learning more about decoding your reflective writing to find powerful data?
Those that are interested, will be the first to know when this reflective writing kit is ready and how the jar finally got dealt with : )
Reflective Question: When was the last time you looked at the back of your fridge? What did you see?
With love, Chelene
As always, if you know of a friend who could benefit from reading this weekly share, please forward share. I want these personal shares within the Say No With Love Newsletter to reach the right people : )
This is a free newsletter but if you like what you are reading and want to support my work, feel free to contribute to my feel good fund! : )
What I'm saying YES to ...
As we know, with every "no" we are also saying yes to something else that we've now organically created the space for. Each week, I'll share what I'm saying yes to whether it's a book, a project, and event, a food ... the possibilities are endless!
Enabling Arts in Vancouver!
EA is a multidisciplinary creative retail space focused on wellness through the arts. They host community events and workshops for sustainable creative practices. They sell books, local/ curated art, natural products, and more. If you're local, check 'em out! If you're looking for a place to host your next event, hey, Enabling Arts has you covered.
