The Joy Box: Rest, Ritual, and the Art of Creative Recovery
After every creative storm comes the quiet. A space that asks not for output, but for softness. I’ve learned the hard way that rest isn’t a reward; it’s part of the art itself.
The body knows when it’s time to exhale, even when the mind still wants to sprint.
The week after filming always feels like the in-between of worlds… too full of echoes to be silent, too quiet to be loud. There’s also a special kind of fatigue that comes after pouring your whole soul into a story. It’s equal parts joy and ache. This time, instead of rushing to the next thing, I decided to treat recovery like another creative ritual… one made of slow mornings, cups of tea, and small acts of gentleness.
I find myself gathering the fragments of creativity I left scattered everywhere, lighting candles, and remembering that recovery has its own kind of rhythm.
What Creative Rest Looks Like for Me
For a long time, I thought resting was lazy. Maybe that’s the neurodivergent part of me that ties productivity to worth. But once I truly made peace with the idea that rest is part of the creative process, everything started to shift.
Creative rest, for me, looks like a Joy Box. — Recently, I opted to create a little bin full of things that fill up my cup, regulate my nervous system, and bring me joy, peace, and calm. It’s one of my favorite colors (pink!) and it always makes me smile.
Inside my Joy Box right now:
my Kindle
a new book waiting to be read from Once Upon a Book Club
a book light
my cat headphones and Beats earbuds
my planner and two journals
my Nintendo Switch
pens and stickers
a massage ball
gold under-eye patches
a small Squishmallow
CBD pain cream and lavender oil
Each thing has a purpose — something to soothe, uplift, or inspire me, depending on where I’m at energetically. I even have a second bin in my office that houses all of my coloring books and supplies (they deserve their own space!). The act of putting it all together felt like a scavenger hunt for joy… a way to remind myself that healing can be creative, too. And because it’s mobile, I can turn any spot into a mini retreat: my office, the backyard, my bedroom, or the couch!
Learning When to Slow Down
I’ll be honest — I’m not always the best barometer for knowing when to rest. But I’m getting better. I’ve learned to recognize it in my body first: the heaviness, the ache, the way fatigue settles into my bones.
During Phase 3 of filming, there was one day I came home completely spent… physically and emotionally. I had pushed far past my limits, and I broke down. But that release was exactly what I needed. The next day, I felt lighter, clearer, and more aware of when I needed to sit down or take a quiet minute for myself. I’m still learning to listen before the crash, but I can finally see the signs. And that, to me, feels like progress.
Balancing Rest and Creation
Ah, the eternal dance — the two wolves within me. One always wants to rest; the other always wants to create.
I’ve learned to honor both. When I’m not actively writing, I often turn to reading… but not just anything. I’ll read something completely different from the world I’m creating. Reading is rest to me. It lets my imagination stretch without demanding that I build something new.
I also let myself create in softer ways. I’ll add a few new songs to a playlist for my current project, or simply listen to it while I color or organize my space. Sometimes it’s not about stopping the flow of creativity; it’s about changing its temperature, shifting from fire to ember.
Rest, I’m learning, isn’t the end of the creative process — it’s the bridge that carries you back home to yourself.
When I sit beside my joy box, surrounded by small comforts and gentle light, I’m reminded that creativity and care were never meant to be separate. They’re two sides of the same sacred ritual: one builds, the other restores. These moments remind me that creativity doesn’t stop when the cameras do. It lingers, softens, and reshapes itself. And when I finally feel ready to return, it always meets me halfway… patient as moonlight.
Where do you go in your life to refill your creative cup or find your quiet joy?
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