Showing Up Creatively in the Messy Middle

Hi, I’m Brittany Hartwell — co-founder and creative director of Molly Green, entrepreneur, and a new mom all over again. I have a six-month-old and a four-year-old, and I’ve been married to my college sweetheart for almost nineteen years. My husband and I have built businesses together for most of our adult lives, and along with my sister, we started Molly Green back in 2011.

Today, we manage five brick-and-mortar locations, an online store, and anywhere between sixty and eighty employees depending on the season. Over the years, I’ve learned a lot about leadership, responsibility, and showing up — especially in the context of being a woman and now a mother of two.

And here we are again, heading into Black Friday week. As usual, I feel slightly unprepared — but also enthusiastic, energized, and grateful for the chance to stretch my creative muscles and remember that I can do something beyond breastfeeding, soothing, and tracking nap schedules.

I’m a Virgo — extremely Type A in theory, but in practice, I can be wildly flighty and led by big ideas that require an entire village to execute. Exhibit A: Molly Green.

Every day, I feel grateful for the blessings in my life — my healthy, rambunctious children, my loving husband, my family and friends, and my coworkers who have become family over the last decade. And still, my sense of happiness is deeply connected to whether I’ve had even a little space to show up creatively.

If I go too many days without creating — whether that means designing, writing, choosing fabrics, planning shoots, or simply putting on an outfit that feels like me — I start to feel stiff. I start to disappear into the logistics of life: feeding everyone, keeping a home functioning, directing a brand, and trying not to slip quietly into the dark night of my forties without maintaining some amount of spark.

The in-between moment: stems on the floor, ideas half-formed, beauty already happening.

Most days, I feel full of gratitude. Also though…there is simply so much to do and never enough time or sleep or brain cells to do it all. But this holiday season, our theme — Artistry in Wonder — has reminded me of something important.

The artist inside each of us deserves her moment to shine, whether she’s wearing a silky dress or a soft cardigan. She deserves to move slowly. She deserves to paint, or arrange flowers for no reason, or bring home leaves and twigs to display just because they’re beautiful and cost nothing. She deserves joy without performance.

A small, handmade arrangement on a gold chair – proof that tiny acts of beauty still count.

I’ve talked to several friends this season — all artists in their own way — and they’ve echoed the same truth: that their art gives them the ability to show up for themselves and for others. Without it, they wouldn’t feel like a full expression of who they are.

And I feel the same way. My creativity doesn’t need to be huge or public or validated by likes or sponsorships. It’s for me. For my family. For the people I love. Nothing else fills that cup in quite the same way.

Little hands learning to notice – the kind of moment that quietly rearranges your priorities.

As we move into Thanksgiving, and into the complicated overlap of hosting and self-care, maybe we remember they are not opposites. Showing up for others can be a form of showing up for ourselves — especially when we choose the things that make us feel alive. Wearing the fabric that hugs or floats just right. Making the small, beautiful choices that keep us from disappearing into obligation.

Scraps and petals and possibility – the way so many good things begin.

Sometimes it means getting dressed in something that feels like you again. Sometimes it means letting yourself play with color or texture or scent or sound, just because it feels good — not because it will ever be posted or praised.

And sometimes it’s simply pausing long enough to notice that you’re still here, still becoming, still allowed to want more from your days than survival.

Rows of roses waiting to become something – like ideas that haven’t found their moment yet.

If you’re in your own version of the messy middle, I hope this reminds you that your art — whatever that looks like — matters. The way you show up for yourself matters. The way you bring beauty into your own life, even quietly, matters.

Thank you for reading.
I’m grateful.

— Brittany