


My heart aches every time I hear someone say:
"I can't sing!"
"I can't dance!"
"I can't draw!"
"I can't paint!"
"I can't write!"
"I can't speak!"
"I'm not creative!"
You see, I, too, had buried my fear of failure and rejection under these LIES until the Lord took me on a journey of profound healing, restoration, and transformation.
Creativity has always been a part of who I am, but it took years for me to fully embrace it. In I'm Creative, I share my journey of rediscovering the artistic spark that had been buried under the weight of life’s responsibilities. From childhood sketches to mixed-media explorations, this is the story of how I found my way back to creativity—and how it became a powerful expression of faith, healing, and joy.
When I was young, I loved to sing and wanted to be a singer, but I never felt good enough. At 19, I had a dream where I saw myself on stage, but when I woke up, I decided that wouldn't happen because I was just not good enough. In 2016, I joined the Greater Auckland Chorus, and for three years, God used them to train me, build my confidence, and ultimately disable the LIE "I can't sing!" Then, I hid for three more years in the church choir, and for the past 2 years, I've been singing on the worship team.
I still have a couple of my drawing and colouring books from the early 1980s, but I shut down after being molested in 1983 and never picked up a pencil again. In 2017, a friend invited me to join her for a graphic design course. Our first assignment, to draw something, initially had me paralysed, but it ultimately started my journey of rediscovering my creative identity and dismantling the LIE, I can't draw!"
I've always loved dancing, but when life happened, I slowly let go of the things that once brought me joy. Dancing faded into the background, overshadowed by responsibilities, disappointments, and the natural shifts that come with time. Clive was never particularly fond of dancing, and at social gatherings where others swayed freely to the music, I would silence the longing within me, pushing it down until it became a quiet echo—eventually so distant that I no longer felt it at all. I had buried it under the LIE, "I can't dance!".
I don't know where my intense fear of painting came from, but the deeply ingrained LIE "I can't paint!" was dismantled after a lovely Korean woman encouraged me to try after I joined her art group at a local church.
As a teenager, I found solace in writing poetry, but over time, I silenced my words, believing they weren’t good enough. Despite my brother’s encouragement and countless suggestions to write a book after sharing my testimony, I remained trapped in the LIE, “I can’t write!" That changed last year when I came across a Maxwell Leadership post about The Book in YOU, urging me to write it UGLY and sort it out later.


