From the Compost Heap header. A pencil style illustration of a compost heap with flowers and plants growing around it. A bee buzzes by and a white rabbit hops by.
  • Neurodivergent Boundaries

    Boundaries can be extremely difficult for neurodivergent folks to navigate. This is particularly true for those of us who were late in life to realize our neurodivergence. For decades I saw my autistic traits as my character flaws. Reframing them to ask for the supports I need has been a seismic shift for me.

    This is the first holiday season since my child’s autism diagnosis and I am drawing some lines in the sand about what we really need. I wrote these as a pep talk for myself and decided to share.

    But you don’t need a diagnosis to advocate for your own needs.

    The diagnosis isn’t a magic paper. It doesn’t actually do anything on an interpersonal level.*

    I was officially diagnosed seven years ago and even so I have never properly advocated for my own needs. It took my child’s diagnosis (and the resulting inner work) to reframe my autism and start to see my own needs as neutral and valid.

    Your boundaries do not have to be precedented. On photograph of milky way with mountain range.

    If you are also struggling to ask for what you need remember I am over here rooting for you.

    Your needs are valid.

    Sensory pain is real.

    Time to decompress is essential.

    I am new to all of this! But I’m sharing my story to help you all feel less alone.

    This isn’t a template, it’s just where I am right now in my boundary setting process.

    How I supported my neurodivergence when setting boundaries…

    1. I no longer make phone calls. When a phone call is required I say, “I have auditory processing disorder. Text based communication is best for me. Can we do this via email or text message?” (I don’t always disclose my autism diagnosis because it is easier for most people to understand a difficulty hearing. We don’t have to fully educate every person. We can choose to communicate the specific piece of our neurodivergence that is relevant to the situation. Or the piece that is most easily understood.)†
    2. I communicated what we need for holidays through a letter in the mail. The resistance I had to doing this was strong. But I wanted to set these boundaries in advance and didn’t feel able to do so over the phone. When I was packaging up the letter I thought about all the times I heard written communication described as “passive aggressive.” This is definitely from a neurotypical perspective. I wonder how many of these “passive aggressive” notes and letters are a last resort by autistic or neurodivergent folks whose needs are being misunderstood or ignored?
    3. I made a schedule. Important routines such as meals, afternoon downtime, and bedtime are fixed and in red. Places to eat that meet sensory needs have been decided in advance.
    4. I also included an informational packet. I printed some of my favorite pages from Andi Putt’s Autism Handbook(not an affiliate, just love her) and bound them in a paper folder. I put a sticky note that said, “More info. Please read the bits I highlighted.” I also printed a copy to bring with me so I can refer to it if I feel stuck in the moment.

    Does that sound brave?

    It was.

    I am still incredibly nervous about how these boundaries will be responded to.

    It has taken a lot of work to get here, but at this point I would be unable to visit extended family without these supports.

    Since becoming a mum I’ve noticed that I have less capacity to mask than I used to. And I simply cannot push past my limits without hitting a brick wall. Our last family visit ended with a panic attack and a mental health spiral that almost landed me in a mental hospital. The stakes are high.

    I’m not exaggerating when I say that I have anguished for years over how to set boundaries and what boundaries would even help.

    During pregnancy I signed up to therapy for support setting the postpartum boundaries I needed. But I was invalidated by a therapist who didn’t understand autism. If you’re looking for support try to find someone who gets it or they could do more harm than good.

    Four years later I finally worked up the courage to ask for what I need thank to support and validation from autistic therapist Steph Jones in a 1:1 coaching session earlier this year.

    Before I could set boundaries I had to internalize the fact that my needs (and my child’s needs) are valid. And I had to stop trying to make boundaries that were “reasonable” so I could ask for what we really needed.

    What boundaries did I set?

    Most of us haven’t seen this type of boundary setting modeled. So I am sharing some of the areas we asked for support. We all have different needs so your supports will be different.

    Don’t use this as a framework, but as inspiration to set the boundaries you need.

    1. Space – a private space to decompress. (We booked an Air B&B that fits our sensory and social needs rather than staying with a family member.)
    2. Overstimulation – limiting the number of auditory inputs at one time.
    3. Social overwhelm – limiting the amount of people present. (For us this means more intimate visits and not including the entire extended family.)
    4. Structure – we will be following our schedule for meals, downtime, and bedtime. Others are free to join us or not.
    5. Respect – I have asked that preferences to not be touched, photographed, talk, or make eye contact be respected.

    That’s it! Please wish us luck and send any positive vibes, prayers, energy, our way.

    Cheers,

    Sarah signed with a swoopy S

    fOOTNOTES

    * An official diagnosis would be helpful if required by your workplace, school, or insurance to offer supports and resources, but it little help in family context.

    † Because of privacy issues my insurance is one exception that refuses to speak to my husband on the phone. I have yet to find a workaround and we struggle through the calls together on speakerphone. If you have advice for this navigating supports in health care / insurance settings please share.

    Read more: Neurodivergent Boundaries
  • Intentional Inconsistency

    Original Tenniel illustration of Alice pulling the White Knight up after he has fallen off his horse

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    You can find it here.

    Read more: Intentional Inconsistency
  • Celebrating an Autism Diagnosis

    I’m an autistic adult and parent of an autistic child. I really recommend framing a diagnosis as a positive milestone and celebrating it as such.

    We celebrate the anniversary of our diagnosis’ each year and call this our “Neurotype Day.” *

    * Shout out to my friend Hayley Dunlop for coining this.

    Read more: Celebrating an Autism Diagnosis
  • What is a creative ecosystem?

    What is a creative ecosystem?

    When I talk about creative ecosystems what I mean is expanding your concept of creativity beyond the act of making. Every part of your lived experience makes up your creative ecosystem.

    I developed this metaphor to help me build a healthier creative practice. Each element of a natural ecosystem (sun, water, air, etc.) is matched with a creative counterpart (body, mind, environment, and so on.)

    Once I began seeing creativity in this way I couldn’t unsee it.

    I also noticed a holistic view of creativity was quite counter cultural. It’s an alternative approach to these two common creative traps.

    Small flock of birds fly through a golden sunset reflected on ocean below.

    1. One Size Fits All Advice

    Too many creative leaders are trying to pass on their specific creative process as if it will work for anyone.

    Even my beloved Julia Cameron is guilty of this. The seeds of this idea were sown when I reread The Artist’s Way as a new mum. I knew creativity was an important part of my life and wanted guidance in how to maintain my creative life through new motherhood.

    But suddenly, Julia’s advice no longer served me. I was exhausted. I didn’t have the capacity for daily journaling. And it wasn’t what I needed.

    What I needed was a nap.

    Reaching the end of my rope taught me that caring for my body and my mind is an essential part of the creative process.

    I still don’t write or make something every day, and that’s okay. I’ve found a new rhythm that’s working for me. It’s fluid and adaptive and continues to develop over time.

    Landscape photo of a canyon

    2. Hustle, Hustle, Burnout

    For years I’ve been working under the hustle, hustle, burnout template. I would push myself past the edge of my capacity and then crash and burn.

    I see a lot of my fellow artists doing the same thing.

    There is a growing awareness that we need rest, but it’s often treated like one more thing to squeeze into your to-do list.

    What we really need is to rebalance our entire creative process.

    Here’s where your creative ecosystem comes in.

    Rainbow over a mountainous landscape

    Consider the Big Picture

    When you stop hyperfocusing on productivity and take a step back you can see that every bit of your life is interconnected. It all serves your creative process.

    Instead of following a template created by someone else start paying attention to your own needs. Then, make little shifts that honor your own capacity.

    Discover your unique balance of structure and freedom, input and output, solitude and community, and more. Dig into your purpose and why you’re creating. Create rituals for rest and reflection.

    When I saw there was more to art than simply making my own creative ecosystem began to thrive.

    I can’t make a fun quiz to determine if your ecosystem is a forest or a canyon.

    Only you can decide that.

    But I have spent two years writing a book to help you start the journey.

    Photo of Discover Your Creative Ecosystem book by Sarah Shotts. A silhouette of bird in flight shows a landscape beyond. Lays on a table surrounded by autumnal leaves.

    Break down your creative ecosystem and explore it one step at a time.

    Discover Your Creative Ecosystem is a short read full of inspiring images and prompts to reflect on your personal creative practice.

    Available in hardcover and paperback. As well as a free PDF edition for readers experiencing financial hardship. And there’s also a fully illustrated companion for journaling or multimedia collage.

    Read more: What is a creative ecosystem?
  • Studio Tour

    It’s finally here!

    Click below to watch a tour of my new studio.

    Read more: Studio Tour
  • My Year of Making (January Recap)

    When I started my year of making I had intentions for writing weekly updates for my blog or newsletter. Then the month unraveled, our whole family got sick, and I shifted into survival mode.

    So I’m giving myself some Brownie points for being flexible (not easy for an Autie) and picking up the pieces to write monthly check ins instead.

    The month started by easing in with baking and journaling and photos for Davy’s first (half) day of Montessori school.

    Digital collage of First Day of Preschool toddler in yellow raincoat

    Then I tried to calibrate my new Cricut. (It was a hate-hate relationship… in the end I returned it and used the money to buy electroforming supplies instead.)

    And the second week we came down sick. First Davy, then the whole family. It was his first time having a fever for anything besides teething. The first few days I kept track of making soup and tea and macaroni out of a box. Then my own fever went up and it was all I could do to just keep us going.

    It’s a tribute to what I’ve learned through motherhood that I was able to let that go and look back with empathy instead of self judgement. It was hard.

    A couple days out from February we started coming alive again and I resumed my making quest. The final day of January was my first proper day making art in my new studio. I returned to an art project I started in February 2, 2020 and had been on the shelf ever since.

    Digital collage of photographs printed on fabric and ironing set up

    My takeaways from this month?

    Sometimes you honor your inner artist by resting and healing. Sometimes making what you need for survival is enough. Other times you have the energy to pick up a long lost project and you stitch two timelines together through the metaphysical magic of time travel.

    UPDATE: September 2021

    I hid this blog post when I stopped writing monthly updates. At the time I was discouraged because we were sick every month from January – May and my year looked nothing like I had imagined. Looking back I can see how I did keep making (in small and simple ways), but I didn’t have the time or energy to document. Then in June (the first month none of us fell sick) my creative world expanded. If you’re finding it hard to create at the moment I see you. Don’t give up. Take the small moments you can. They count even if no one else is seeing them.

    Read more: My Year of Making (January Recap)
  • My Word for 2021

    Gold scissors and baby clothes on a blue blanket

    I didn’t choose a word last year. Or the year before that. I’ve been in a metaphorical hibernation since Davy was born. Snug and still even before 2020 locked us all down.

    These 18 months have been a time of dreaming and ideation. I have had more creative ideas during postpartum than any other time in my life.

    Yet, action came in waves.

    Small lapping pond waters.

    Occasional crashing whitecaps.

    Doodles and book drafts.

    It was inconsistent, but it kept me afloat. The ideas I didn’t have time or energy to complete I gathered up and squirreled away for another time.

    I’ve chosen the word MAKE for 2021 because I want to establish a daily creative practice. To put those ideas I’ve collected to use. 

    I want to make more art, but gently. I need flexibility to tend a sick babe or adjust my pace to avoid burnout. Some days I might paint or weave and others I might make beans on toast. Both are equally valid.

    It’s an invitation to create everyday and a curiosity to see how that unfolds.

    If you’d like to follow along I’ll be writing about my year of making in my newsletter. I’ll drop an opt in box here to make it easy.

    P.S. After drafting this post I did a search for “year of making” and rediscovered Kim Werker who I followed what feels like a lifetime ago. I must have been riding some subconscious inspiration. Kim’s year of making was in turn inspired by Miriam Felton so it’s one big beautiful swirl of inspiration. 🌀 

    If you want to join in just use their hashtag #yearofmaking.

    Read more: My Word for 2021
  • Camp Kindle

    Camp Kindle has not been archived yet. Find sessions on Substack:

    Camp Kindle: Adventure

    Camp Kindle: Wonder

    Vintage photograph of Girl Scouts refilling a water barrel at camp. They are in uniform and smiling.
    Read more: Camp Kindle
  • Embracing My Inner Renaissance Soul

    I’ve always been envious of Emily Starr’s singular focus on her Alpine Path. Her one true passion was writing, and she always knew what she wanted to achieve. My creative endeavors are more… varied.

    I’ll gather up a handful to paint a picture for you.

    I’ve drafted novels, thrown pots, directed plays, painted landscapes, photographed weddings, cross stitched samplers, planted gardens, made mosaics, designed websites, produced short films, dipped candles, made flower crowns, designed logos, stage managed, blogged, vlogged, danced en pointe, painted posters, designed gravestones, baked cakes, bound books, sewn pockets, developed my own photographs, scrapbooked, acted, silk screened, written for a magazine, learned Irish step dancing, embroidered hoops, written plays & performed puppetry…

    The list goes on.

    I still want to learn to play the ukulele, crochet & needlefelt.

    University was a beautiful time of reckless curiosity for me. I studied anything that sparked my interest, even taking classes that didn’t count toward my degrees.

    But when I started a photography business I told myself that any other creative projects were a waste of time.

    I continually make the mistake of trying to “specialize.”

    Telling myself that I have to choose one art form and practice it exclusively. Even so, my focus shifted from photography to cinematography to blogging to vlogging to sticker making…

    I clearly lack the ability to stick to one specific thing.

    Each time I told myself that my new passion would be “it.”

    Portrait of myself wearing an autumnal crown with long flowing brown hair and pale skin, with autumnal reflections in the lake beyond

    Then, about a year ago,  I made the tough decision to close down my photography business. It was incredibly freeing. I made discoveries about my creative process, improved my mental health, and realized I had developed a chronic illness that was draining a lot of my energy. I was able to slow down and take care of me.

    I’ve had a bit of a rebirth this year. I’m feeling more myself than I have since my years in college.

    I chose “create” as my word for 2017, which quickly transformed into “dabble”. Instead of creating and marketing products I began to kindle my curiosity.

    After a year of creating just to create I’ve realized that I’m never going to find a single art form that defines my identity as an artist.

    So I’ve stopped searching for it.

    I’m embracing my identity as a Renaissance Soul and am chasing curiosity with wild abandon.

    Portrait of myself wearing an autumnal crown with long flowing brown hair, pale skin, and brown glasses
    Read more: Embracing My Inner Renaissance Soul