Dearest Reader,
Tell me if you’ve ever thought something along these lines:
“Writing craft, a book deal, a chunk of cash, or a surprise stretch of empty hours will untangle everything that’s not working in my life.”
That these are the keys. The answers. The balm.
...
I cannot believe how long it took me to unravel this thinking for myself. But if I’ve learned anything over the years, it’s that deep-rooted limiting beliefs are called that for a reason. They don’t just live in our minds. They live in our bodies, in our choices, in our overcommitments, in the things we say yes to even when we know we’re already stretched too thin. And if I want to leave those beliefs behind and not carry them into the next season—(which, by the way, is literally just days away)—then I need to ask myself: what must I understand?
Without tending to (and getting curious about) our overall health—real, integrated health—we’re just sticking flimsy little Post-its over the cracks in a dam. And eventually, the water finds its way through, and quickly.
I used to believe money would solve everything, and I think there’s some relief in knowing I am not alone here. I used to think that it would be the thing to quiet the noise, soothe the body, calm the nervous system, bring clarity to my next creative project, and finally open the door I needed to write again and that it would FEEL AWESOME. And if you’re anything like me—if you grew up without money and without emotional guidance—you know how seductive that belief can be. We absolutely must be kind to ourselves because it’s a slow, tender thing to unlearn.
The other day, I came across this quote:
"When health is absent, wisdom cannot reveal itself, art cannot manifest, strength cannot fight, strength becomes useless, and intelligence cannot be applied." —Herophilus
Whew.
It showed up just before I was about to say yes to something (again, because we have to constantly check ourselves, the work is never done) that I knew wasn’t aligned. Something I knew would pull me back into that familiar scarcity current.
But now I pause. Now I ask: what would the real cost be? What toll would it take on my body? My creative energy? My nervous system?
I’ve always been curious—eager to understand the why behind what I feel. So I started paying closer attention. I wanted to truly see how my body was responding to stress, to the weight of long-held beliefs, to the quiet pressure of all the things I told myself I had to do. Over the years, I’ve taken several personal development programs to deepen that understanding—and I’ve got more planned for this year and next. That, too, is part of the clarity: when you follow your curiosity, you begin to notice how what you're drawn to learn more about inevitably shows up in your creative projects and offerings.
And when I began to say the word health out loud, I realized I had never really stopped to define it for myself. And y’all know that self-defining is a huge part of my process. How dare I skip that?! lol
It wasn’t just about what I could see. It was about the invisible stuff, too. The happenings under the surface. The way stress weaves itself into our cells. The way urgency sneaks into our breathing. The way old stories become new habits if we’re not careful. I’m literally talking to and working with three different coaches and health professionals as we speak because sometimes, we need a team.
And because I know myself—and how easily I get overwhelmed when I try to tackle everything at once—I had to find a way to break it all down. To see the whole picture in smaller, more manageable pieces.
So here’s what’s helped me. I’ve begun to think about health in three gentle, spacious categories:
- Mindset. Stillness. Breathing. Naming the belief behind the belief. Reflective writing that doesn’t just vent, but listens.
- Nutrition. Hydration. A balanced plate. Food that energizes rather than depletes. (I’m still on this journey, always.)
- Lifestyle. How we move. How we sleep. What we consume. Who we allow into our space. The creative rituals that quietly keep us anchored.
It’s easy to look at all this and feel overwhelmed. To believe you have to change everything, right now. I believed that for years. And that belief alone—that it only counts if you overhaul your whole life today—kept me stuck in the same loop. Just pick ONE focus from each category.
But when I finally pushed back against urgency—when I allowed slowing down to become my quiet form of activism—I began to restore myself. And once I restored, I could finally see.
Back in 2017, when I was navigating the deepest exhaustion of my life, all three areas of my health were out of alignment. My mindset was reactive and fear-driven. Nutrition? Convenience always won and I fell into some super unhealthy bad habits. And my lifestyle? There wasn’t a single piece of it designed to hold the kind of creative life I was trying to build.
I wasn’t saying no with love.
I wasn’t mining my writing for wisdom.
I wasn’t building anything that could hold me.
I was just trying to get stuff done so I could move on to the next thing that had to be done. (sad face).
And yet—I kept writing, even if only in fragments. In bathroom stalls at work. In voice memos on crowded buses during rush hour. (If I didn’t get a seat, I called that a creative pivot.) I clung to the idea that the creative version of me was still in there, waiting.
What I’ve learned since then is this: small, loving shifts—done with intention—can create the kind of foundation where creativity doesn’t have to fight to exist. Where it doesn’t feel like another job or burden. That’s how I wrote five books. That’s how I found clarity. That’s how I started asking not, What should I be doing? but What helps me feel nourished and held, so that I can return to the page with breath instead of dread?
So if writing feels harder than it used to—if it feels like there’s just no room for it right now—you’re not alone. Most of us try to push through. But if your body and mind are stretched thin, creativity has nowhere to land.
That quote again:
"When health is absent, wisdom cannot reveal itself, art cannot manifest, strength cannot fight, strength becomes useless, and intelligence cannot be applied."
What I know now is: yes, I still carry limiting beliefs. But I don’t live by them anymore. I acknowledge them, thank them for their loyalty, and gently choose something else.
And when I look back at how close I came to abandoning my second book, I remember: I didn’t do it alone. I called in support. I found people to help me reimagine my own patterns. Over time, I built a small but mighty health team.
I’ll be writing more about that next week.
But if this letter landed somewhere tender for you—and you feel ready for a soft, loving reset—you can book a paid Creative Support Call with me. Choose the session titled “Remove, Replace, Restore.” We’ll explore what needs to shift, what’s draining you, and how to rebuild something more supportive. Something that reflects who you are now.
Feel free to share this with anyone who you think might need to read it.
Not overnight. Not perfectly. One new truth at a time—so your writing becomes a place of return, not another thing to carry.
With love and care,
Chelene
Reflection question:
What’s one small change you could make this week to help your creativity feel less like a task and more like a returning home?
And what other "say no with love stories" do you want to hear? Reply and let me know? Also ... if you want video, reply and let me know that too : )
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 : )
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