Finding Whimsy in the Ordinary

I love fantasy. Since I was a child, I’ve always had a special interest in fantastical realms, magical creatures, and supernatural world building. I would label myself a “creative at heart,” especially embracing drawing, painting, and the arts as a child and young adult. My nose was often lost in a book, my mind traveling to a fictional realm almost as soon as I learned to read. I will happily discuss fantasy literature, The Lord of the Rings, musicals, and superhero lore with the best of them. And I am currently annoyed that I have yet to see the latest Spider-Man movie in theaters.

I’m a little embarrassed to admit that, after a period of dormancy, I am relearning how to embrace those “whimsical” parts of myself as I reach my mid 30s.

As much as I have an affinity for the fantastical, I’ve often battled the parts of me that work hard to be what I perceive as “just right.” I am the classic, hyper responsible, firstborn daughter, working to meet expectations so as not to disappoint. In adulthood, this resulted in spending many years placing my special interests on the back burner as I entered the workforce and navigated the demands of a growing family. I subconsciously began operating in ways that prioritized meeting the perceived expectations of others while neglecting the parts of me that thrive in the weird, unexpected, and unstructured.

I think many parents may relate. It’s hard to dive into hobbies when you’re fighting to meet basic needs like sleep and hydration…while simultaneously taking care of tiny gremlins who seem to thrive on two bites of string cheese and find their best creativity at 3 a.m.

Unsurprisingly, taking care of others in large capacities while neglecting the parts of me that thrive in creative spaces has led to seasons of burnout.

Burnout.

For me, it often looks like hitting “autopilot” mode, keeping up with the daily status quo while lacking emotional attunement with myself. It may also look like demand avoidance: ignoring menial tasks, decreasing social engagement, and experiencing great difficulty remaining in the present moment. Things that bring me joy feel further away, and what little energy I have is reserved for the necessities of survival.

I am not fighting the magical creatures of a fictional realm. Burnout leaves me fighting my own nervous system and experiencing fatigue in even basic functioning.

I recently heard burnout described in terms of a “lack of return on investment (ROI)”. Essentially, the joy, meaning, or fulfillment we receive no longer feels proportionate to the effort we’re putting in. I’ve realized that my tendency to dismiss my own needs in the name of basic survival can keep my personal ROI metaphorically “in the red”.

While there are many helpful tools and strategies for addressing burnout, I’ve found that part of what I needed was to reconnect with something that had gathered a little dust in my system: whimsy.

Through my own therapeutic work, I was challenged to discover how I might embrace creativity and whimsy in my day-to-day life, essentially, how I might make room for FUN.

I don’t necessarily have the space right now to pick up my paintbrushes. I am not currently able to physically train like a warrior or dive into a new creative hobby. But I’ve been working to embrace my own “whimsy” even while engaged in the necessities of daily survival.

What does that look like in my role as a parent? How can I embrace creativity as a clinician?

Maybe it’s simply in the outfit I wear for the day. Maybe I try the “out of the box” thing from the clinician’s seat. Or maybe I sing a ridiculous, silly song while making my kids lunch.

And as simple as that may sound, it has really helped me. A lot.

I may not be fighting any cool dragons or even achieving eight hours of sleep per night, despite my best efforts. However, when my ROI increases because I’ve learned to find and create moments of joy within the monotony, I’d say some magic is achieved.

For those experiencing burnout, it may be worth getting curious about the parts of yourself that have been pushed aside in the process of simply keeping up. What brings you joy? What makes you feel playful, creative, curious, or alive? What parts of you have gathered a little dust while other, more responsible parts have been busy keeping everything going?

For me, Internal Family Systems (IFS), both as a client and as a clinician, has offered a meaningful way to explore these questions. It has helped me become more aware of the parts working so hard to manage life while also making space for parts of myself that need creativity, play, and connection. Reconnecting with my own whimsy hasn’t made the demands of life disappear, but it has helped me experience more fun, presence, and meaning within the relatively ordinary.

Maybe that’s part of what whimsy offers us. It doesn’t require escaping our ordinary lives for a fantastical realm. Sometimes, it simply invites a little more magic into the life we’re already living.

…and lastly, if you see me in the wild, no Spider-Man spoilers, please!

Written By: Lauren Salazar, MA, LMFT, LAC