Free EBook: How to Create a Feeling

I’ve written an ebook and I’m giving it away for free!

I was inspired to write How to Create a Feeling: A Guide to Face Your Feelings & Turn Them Into Art through the feelings I create out of fiber (my art) and an intuitive need to share what I’ve learned about navigating depression so it doesn’t rule my life. 

The first portion of the book shares information about our feelings and why we often suppress or deny what we feel.  The latter portion includes several exercises to help you navigate those feelings, particularly what I call your dominant negative feeling, and turn it into art.

This book was written for every woman who’s tired of being at the mercy of her feelings and would rather create feelings of joy and ease in every situation.

If you’d like a copy of my 42-page ebook, How to Create a Feeling: A Guide to Face Your Feelings & Turn Them Into Art, enter your email in the box below to receive your FREE copy! You’ll receive the ebook within 24 hours and be added to my email list. Don’t worry – you’ll be asked to confirm joining the list and you can always unsubscribe at any time.

Please keep reading for an excerpt!


As women, many of us were programmed from birth to be and behave a certain way.  To follow the rules, not raise our voices, and let someone else lead (even while we’re being told we can be leaders).  We don’t own our own goddessness because that would be ballsy and women aren’t supposed to be ballsy.  We’re trained to not express our feelings so as not to be seen as “hysterical” or a “drama queen” or weak.

If you’re here, it’s because some part of you sees this societal programming as the bullshit it is.

You’re waking up to stand in your power.

You’re waking up to own and express your feelings.

You’re waking up to the realization that life isn’t meant to be hard; it’s meant to be lived with joy and ease.


Programming begins prior to birth, regardless of whether our parents knew our gender. Our pregnant mothers and expectant fathers painted pictures in their respective heads of the child that was coming. Their own programming dictated the visions they saw of the little girl or boy who was on her or his way. They contemplated pink or blue walls, even as they may have chosen a gender neutral color for baby’s room. Their hearts were drawn to adorable little dresses, tiny little sneakers, and twee little ball caps. Secretly, even unconsciously, they dreamed of having one or the other.

Then you arrived. Out of the womb, you slid into the doctor’s hands and the words “it’s a girl” were spoken. And your parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, doctors, and nurses responded to their individual programming triggers to wrap you in a pink blanket, put a bow on your head, declare you beautiful and swoon over the precious clothing that declared you female.

All babies appear gender neutral when the diaper is on. So our families use clothing and accessories to identify us as girls or boys. It’s what they know how to do. It’s how they believe they’re fulfilling their role as parent, by helping you identify as female or male.

As you grew, and before you could dress yourself, this gender identification continued with the clothing you wore. It was always out of your control. And with the clothing choices also came the instructions:

Girls are sweet and kind. Sugar and spice and everything nice. Girls are docile, quiet, and friendly. Girls are eager to help around the house and in the kitchen. Girls don’t raise their voices. They don’t hit. They don’t yell. They don’t scream.

From an early age, we females are trained to follow these rules. The result? Grown women who are unable to express themselves.

So we find ourselves turning to alcohol or drugs or food, to relationships that don’t suit, to men who don’t cherish, to friendships that never go deep because the inability to express what we really feel, in whatever manner feels most aligned, causes us to live surface lives.


No matter how enlightened society appears to be, with all the shifts that have occurred to date and continue to occur, there’s still an expectation women are delicate creatures, emotional and prone to melodramatics.  And maybe we are. I know I’ve had my moments.  And when I’ve had those moments, others get uncomfortable.  I’ve been told to calm down.  I’ve been told “it’s okay.”  I’ve been told lie after lie as the others attempt to calm me down so they don’t have to feel whatever it is they feel when I’m expressing my feelings.  And that’s where society has it wrong.  That’s where we have it wrong within ourselves.

It’s time to FEEL your feelings.  All of them.  Open, happy, alive, peace, love, fascination, hope, free.  Sad, rejection, fear, boredom, helpless, confused, depressed, angry, defeat.  And all derivatives that fall under them.  

Feelings are experiences.  They’re states of being.  But we suppress these aspects of our being.  We shove our anger down because we don’t want to create conflict.  We put a muzzle on our elation because we don’t want to be seen as bragging.  We create a soup with hope, seasoned with doubt.  We experience freedom, those moments when everything just falls beautifully together, and then we tell ourselves it was a fluke and won’t ever happen again.  We don’t own these feelings as natural and normal and absolutely part of who we are in our humanness.  

And this gets us stuck.

It’s time to get unstuck.


If you liked what you read in the excerpt above, enter your email in the box below to receive your FREE copy!

xoxo


If you’re ready for a private (virtual) showing of my art, you can schedule an appointment here.

To discuss commissioning me to make a textured fiber painting specifically for you or someone you love, please schedule an exploratory commissioning conversation and we’ll see what we can create together.

If you enjoyed this essay, and it feels aligned, please share on social media or via email. If you liked it, someone you know will probably like it too!

Author: Hilary Clark

Artist, Writer, Poet. Joy & Ease Believer. Aiming for modern renaissance woman. Will likely miss.

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