How My Brain Processes Panic When Learning and Growing!

Curiosity has always been the quiet (sometimes not so quiet) hum beneath my creative journey. It’s that insistent tug that makes me want to understand something more deeply, whether it's the texture of a colour, the nuance of a story, or the mystery behind a feeling. But here’s the thing—they never tell you how panic often walks hand in hand with curiosity. Especially when you’re learning. Especially when you’re growing.

For me, the desire to learn something new can start as a spark—a beautiful, bright pull into the unknown. It’s exciting, alive. But then comes the wobble. The internal questions. What if I can't? What if I’m not good enough? What if I fail?Panic rushes in like a wave. My brain scrambles. Fight, flight, freeze. But over time, I’ve learned that this panic isn’t a stop sign. It’s a threshold. The start of something becoming.

Curiosity is more powerful than fear. It’s the ancient drive behind every scientific breakthrough, every creative process, every leap of personal growth. And for me, art is both the map and the journey. It helps me explore the landscape of my own emotion—where fear and wonder, doubt and possibility, all coexist.

Pink often shows up in my work. Not just because it’s beautiful, but because it carries weight. Soft pink whispers of love, nurture and calm—feminine energies that soothe the nervous system. Bright pink is bolder, more electric. She pulses with vitality. Together they symbolise the power of the feminine—compassionate but courageous. A reminder to hold space for both panic and play.

I think of the Heart Chakra—our energetic centre of love and connection. When I create from this place, the panic quietens. Something deeper takes the lead. That’s where Angel Trumpets come in for me—those beautiful, strange, trumpet-shaped blooms. To me, they are divine messengers. When I paint them, they remind me to listen inward. To trust the whisper of intuition. The creative process is spiritual as much as it is expressive. It’s an invitation to self-inquiry. A conversation with the unknown.

Wendell Berry wrote, “I come into the peace of wild things.” That line lives in my bones. When I step into my studio, when I surrender to the paint, the line, the colour—I find that peace too. Even in the chaos. Even in the panic. Creativity is born in those liminal spaces, the in-between moments of not-knowing. Serendipity blooms there. So does truth.

So, how does my brain process panic when learning and growing?

It paints. It questions. It listens. It softens. It celebrates the pink.

And it keeps going—curious, open, and ready for the next wild thing.