Too Depleted to Create? Use the Jenga Tower Test to Rebuild Your Foundation
My sister teaches in a Montessori classroom, and she recently told me something that stopped me in my tracks. One of her students had built a Jenga tower—you know, the game where you stack wooden blocks and then carefully remove them one by one until the whole thing comes crashing down. But this kid had just finished building it, and my sister was struck by how solid and sturdy it looked when all the pieces were intact.
That's when it hit her: this is what our lives look like.
When all the blocks are in place, we're stable. Strong. We can handle what comes our way. But then we start removing pieces. A little less sleep here. Skipping lunch there. Dropping our morning walk. Saying yes to one more committee. And at first? We get away with it. The tower still stands. We think we're fine. We tell ourselves we can handle it.
Until suddenly, we can't.
And here's what I want you to know: If your creative practice feels impossible right now, it might not be about discipline or dedication. Your Jenga tower might just be missing too many blocks.
Which blocks have you pulled…
and how sturdy is your tower?
Why Your Creative Brain Needs a Solid Foundation
Let's talk about what happens in your brain when you're running on fumes.
Decision fatigue is real. Every single choice you make throughout the day—what to wear, what to eat, which email to answer first, whether to go to that meeting—uses up your mental energy. It's like your brain has a battery, and by the time you sit down to make art, that battery is at 3%.
And creativity? Creativity needs a full charge.
From my years working in vision rehabilitation and brain injury, I learned something fascinating: more than half of your brain's cortex is dedicated to processing visual information. Your brain is doing constant work to make sense of what you're seeing, to make connections, to find patterns. When you're creating art, you're asking your brain to do that, plus even more—to innovate, to problem-solve, to make interesting connections between seemingly unrelated ideas.
You can't do that when you're depleted, when you’re in survival mode.
I learned this the hard way. When I was working full-time as an optometrist with two little ones, my days started at dawn and ended past 8 PM—managing kids, patient charts, staff demands, back-to-back appointments, and emergency calls that could come at any hour. In whatever scraps of time I had left, I'd try to make art. And…it was NOT good. Flat. Lifeless. Not because I wasn't trying, but because I had nothing left to give. My creative battery was at zero before I even picked up a pencil.
This is why the "just make time for creativity" advice doesn't work when your tower is wobbling. It's not about carving out 30 minutes in your calendar. It's about whether you have anything left to give when you get there.
The Non-Negotiable Blocks (AKA: Don't Touch These)
Here's the truth: some blocks can't be removed, even temporarily.
These are your foundation pieces. The bottom rows of your Jenga tower. The ones where you poke them, and there’s no give. Pull these out, and everything collapses—not dramatically all at once, but in a slow, inevitable crumble that shows up in your creative work (or lack thereof) first.
Sleep. I know, I know. It’s easy to stay up too late. But your brain literally cleanses itself during sleep. It processes memories, makes connections, and restores the capacity for creative thinking. Skip sleep regularly, and your art suffers, followed by your mood, your patience, and then the headaches start…
Basic nutrition. I'm not talking about perfect meal prep or Instagram-worthy lunch bowls. I mean: are you eating actual food at regular intervals? Your brain runs on glucose. End of story.
Financial stability. This is a big one. You don't need to be wealthy, but you do need to not be in constant panic mode about making rent or buying groceries. It's nearly impossible to access creative flow when your nervous system is stuck in survival mode.
Safety and security. This includes both physical safety and emotional security—a place to live, relationships that aren't actively harming you, a baseline sense that you're okay in the world.
Some form of community. Humans are wired for connection. Total isolation will drain your creative well faster than almost anything else. You need someone to talk to, even if it's just texting memes to your sister.
When my kids were newborns, sleep was impossible. And you know what? I had to accept that this was a season for raising tiny humans, not making gallery-worthy work. I found tiny ways to feel creative—quick sketches, simple lettering projects. When I was pregnant with my daughter, I painted a funky alphabet with her name in bright colors. That was it. That was all I had. But it hung in her room for 12 years, and we still have it. Sometimes "creative practice" looks like survival-mode doodling. And that's okay.
The Temporary Removal Blocks (AKA: Permission Granted)
Now here's where it gets interesting—and where I'm giving you permission to be strategic.
Some blocks can be temporarily removed. Not forever. Not carelessly. But strategically, and for a season? Absolutely.
Committee meetings. Volunteering. Social obligations that feel like "shoulds" instead of genuine connection. Keeping your house magazine-ready. Folding your laundry the same day you wash it (or, let's be honest, the same week). Replying to every email within 24 hours. Attending every event you're invited to.
These things matter, sure. But they matter less than the non-negotiables. And when you're in a season where you need to protect your creative energy? These are the blocks you can set aside.
The key is knowing which blocks are temporary-removal blocks for you. Everyone's tower is built differently. Maybe you're someone who genuinely needs a clean kitchen to think clearly—okay, that's a non-negotiable for you. But maybe you've been killing yourself trying to maintain a perfectly curated Instagram when what you really need is to take a few hours to slow down and rest, or get outside for a walk, with no technology flooding your brain. Maybe it’s time for coffee with a friend to just get some things out, and listen to them too.
Here's your permission slip: You don't have to do everything right now.
You can say "not this season" to good things. You can pause commitments that don't serve your current goals. You can let some balls drop—as long as they're not the foundation blocks.
Plugging the Holes Back In
But here's what we don't talk about enough: what happens when you've removed too many blocks and your tower is teetering?
You rebuild. Strategically.
First, you assess. This is where something like my quarterly review workbook, or a session of free-writing comes in handy—taking honest stock of where you are and what's actually supporting (or draining) your creative energy. Which blocks are missing? Which ones are barely hanging on?
Then you prioritize. You don't try to add everything back at once (that's how we got here in the first place). You identify the one or two blocks that, if restored, would make the biggest difference. Maybe it's going to bed 30 minutes earlier. Maybe it's saying no to that committee role you've been dreading. Maybe it's asking for help with something you've been white-knuckling alone.
When I first left healthcare, I thought maybe I'd still consult or write a book about vision rehabilitation. But holding all of that in my brain while trying to build my art practice? I wasn't doing either one well. So I set healthcare down. Maybe not forever, but for now I'm all in with ceramics. Healthcare only comes up when someone corners me with "Hey, can I ask you about my eyes..." I had to get honest about what could be temporarily set aside to make room for what mattered most to me. And I had to drop the guilt, too.
And then—this is the hard part—you actually do it. You plug that block back in. You shore up your foundation.
Because here's what I've learned: stability isn't optional. Stability is necessary, for our well-being, and then our creativity.
When your tower is solid, you have the freedom to experiment. To take risks. To try that scary new technique or put your work out into the world. When you're not using all your energy just to stay upright, you can actually play. You can smile. Laugh even!
You Can't Create From Depletion
Your creative practice isn't separate from the rest of your life. It's not this magical thing that happens in a bubble, unaffected by whether you slept or ate or feel safe in the world.
Your art is built on the same foundation as everything else. And when that foundation is shaky? Your creativity is the first thing to go quiet.
So before you beat yourself up for not making art, before you decide you're not disciplined enough or dedicated enough, check your tower. How many blocks have you removed? Which foundation pieces are barely hanging on?
Maybe what you need isn't more time or better time management. Maybe what you need is to plug some holes back in. To say no to something that doesn't serve you. To prioritize sleep or food or human connection. To rebuild your foundation so you have something solid to create from.
Because when your tower is sturdy? The creative freedom that follows is worth every block you carefully, intentionally put back in place.
With Enthusiasm for Art & Life,
Heidi
Want help figuring out which blocks to prioritize? Download my free Artist Quarterly Review Workbook to assess your creative foundation and set intentions for the season ahead. It's designed to help you get honest about what's supporting your practice—and what's draining it.
Ready to go deeper? I'm developing one-on-one artist coaching to help you build a sustainable creative practice that actually fits your life. Reach out if you want to chat about working together!