Recently, I’ve felt a heaviness in creative spaces.

People want to create but hold back—not from lack of ideas or time, but guilt. They fear that creating now seems inappropriate, out of touch, or selfish.

There’s pressure to set aside joy when the world hurts. It may feel like caring means being serious, or never looking away, even briefly.

Many people quietly wonder: How can I create when so much is wrong?

If you’ve wanted to create but felt ashamed, you’re not alone. It doesn’t mean you don’t care. You’re simply trying to manage grief and daily life without clear guidance on how to manage both.

It’s important to talk about this, because guilt can quietly stop people from creating.

So before we talk about whether creating “makes sense” during hard times, this needs to be said:

Feeling this conflict isn’t a moral failure. It’s a human response to living in a world where suffering is constant and hard to ignore.

When Has The World Ever Been Calm Enough to Create?

It’s hard to accept, but there has never been a time in history when everything was truly okay.

Every era has lived with its own version of crisis. War, injustice, oppression, displacement. Whole generations were shaped by events that changed how they understood safety and the future. That isn’t new, even if it feels especially close right now.

If creating required a peaceful world, art would barely exist.

When we say "now isn’t the time," we assume there must someday be a pain-free period when creativity finally feels okay. But history shows otherwise. Picasso painted Guernica amid civil war, proving that turmoil and creation coexist. Art often arises from unrest—not after it.

Art has never waited for calm. People have always created during chaos. The idea of a perfect time to create has never really existed.

This doesn’t mean art solves everything or takes the place of action or care. It just means that waiting for the perfect moment often means never starting at all.

Creating Is Not Indifference. It’s How Many People Stay Grounded.

Many people assume that creating means you’re ignoring what’s going on. They might think making art means you’re not paying attention, or that you’ve chosen comfort instead of compassion.

However, that is rarely true.

Creating isn’t about denial or pretending nothing is wrong. For many, it’s a way to stay present without becoming overwhelmed.

Art gives emotions somewhere to go. Fear, anger, grief, confusion. Feelings that don’t resolve just because we want them to. Making something can help the body settle enough to process what the mind keeps returning to.

Creating also helps people stay connected to what’s important. When everything feels chaotic, it can remind them of their values and the kind of person they want to be.

You can care deeply and still make art. Those two things aren’t opposites.

Creative grounding makes lasting care possible. Without it, constant stress can lead to shutting down or burnout, which doesn’t help anyone.

Art as Expression When Words Fail

There are times when words just aren’t enough.

Some emotions don’t fit neatly into words. They can be layered, conflicting, or unfinished. You might feel anger and hope at once, or grieve while still moving forward. Language often demands clarity before it’s really possible.

With the nonstop flow of news and opinions, it can feel like everything has already been said. Things get reduced to headlines or talking points, leaving little space for what’s really going on inside.

Art doesn’t need tidy endings. It doesn’t ask you to choose just one feeling or find the “right” answer. It can hold contradictions without needing to fix them. Mourning doesn’t have to be finished or made meaningful right away.

For many people, this isn’t optional. It’s necessary.

This is especially important for neurodivergent people, those with trauma, and anyone who processes the world visually or physically instead of just through words. Art can hold emotions without forcing them into explanations or arguments.

Sometimes, creating isn’t about saying anything. It’s about making room for something that hasn’t become words yet.

Art as Resistance and Why It’s Often the First Thing Targeted

Creating is not a passive act.

Throughout history, authoritarian and oppressive systems have often targeted art first—music, books, stories, and visual expression. This isn’t by accident or as an afterthought. When control increases, creativity is usually one of the first things to be limited.

There’s a reason for that.

Art encourages people to think for themselves. It keeps culture alive when those in power want to change or simplify it. Art makes propaganda harder to accept by adding nuance, emotion, and real experience. It helps people imagine other possibilities beyond what they’re told is the only way.

Creating isn’t neutral, even when it’s quiet or personal. Even when it never leaves your sketchbook or hard drive.

Art keeps imagination alive, even when it’s inconvenient. It pushes back against stories that oversimplify human experience. Art helps preserve our humanity in systems that work better when people are tired, obedient, and disconnected.

So no, creating isn’t “checking out.”

Often, it’s the opposite. Creating helps keep something alive when it’s most at risk of disappearing.

Constant Anxiety Helps No One

Caring matters. Staying informed matters. Taking action matters.

This isn’t an argument for looking away or pretending things are fine. Compassion requires awareness, and awareness takes effort.

Living in constant panic doesn’t help. Being emotionally on edge all the time wears down the nervous system. Over time, it doesn’t lead to better care or action—it leads to exhaustion, shutting down, and burnout.

Burned-out people have limited capacity to show up in the long term. Thinking gets harder. Perspective narrows. Everything starts to feel equally urgent, making it harder to respond well to anything.

That raises an important question.

If we’re all collapsing under the weight of constant anxiety, who is left to help when help is actually needed?

This is where people often get confused. Taking care of yourself is mistaken for not caring, and rest is seen as giving up. But neither of these is true.

Looking after your nervous system isn’t the same as checking out. It’s how you stay able to help. For many, creativity is part of this—not as a distraction, but as a way to settle, process, and restore enough energy to keep going.

Staying balanced doesn’t mean you care less. It just means you’re better able to care.

Self-Care Is Not Selfish. It’s Preparatory.

A lot of people struggle with the idea of self-care because of how it’s been framed. As indulgence. As something extra. As a reward you earn after doing enough or caring enough.

That framing misses the point.

Care is maintenance. It’s what allows systems to keep functioning. Bodies, minds, relationships. Without it, things don’t hold together for long. They break down.

Art can play a real role here. Not as a luxury, but as a way to return to yourself when everything feels loud or disconnected. Creating gives feelings somewhere to land before they turn into numbness or overwhelm. In many systems, exhaustion is useful to those in power. Tired people are easier to control, and disconnected people are easier to distract. Staying human in the middle of all this takes real effort.

Creating helps with this. It reminds you of what you value, what you stand for, and the kind of world you want to help shape.

You Don’t Have to Earn the Right to Create

You’re not required to make art. You’re allowed to pause. You’re allowed to grieve. Some seasons are heavy, and sometimes getting through the day is enough.

At the same time, you don’t have to punish yourself for wanting to create. Wanting to make something doesn’t mean you’ve stopped caring. Your creativity doesn’t take away from anyone else’s pain.

For some, creating keeps them from going numb. For others, it’s how they stay connected to what matters when life feels overwhelming.

Making something doesn’t mean you’re ignoring the world. Sometimes it means you care too much to disconnect. Sometimes art is how we stay close to what’s worth protecting.

No matter how you’re handling this, there’s no moral test you have to pass. It’s just the ongoing effort to stay human in a world that often makes it harder than it should be.