Adventures in Self Recrimination and Personal Growth

A new blog for SPARC by Olivia Whiddon

For the past several months, I’ve woken up at 3:00 a.m.—long before my alarm is supposed to ring—with the uncomfortable feeling that something is missing, like I’ve forgotten the words to my favourite song.

This past winter, I realized my creative spark had dwindled to almost nothing. I was out with a friend when I noticed something strange: I couldn’t understand their interest in what I do. I usually love talking about music—my vocation—but that afternoon I wanted to talk about anything else.

It has been 31 years since my first singing lesson. It was a warm fall day, and the sun was shining as I walked down the street for my first adventure as a musician. I still remember my heart fluttering in my chest when I knocked on the door. The thrill of that first song—the poetry set to music—felt so vivid it was like a movie only I could see.

Since that first lesson, music has been my constant companion. It was my high school guidance counsellor’s suggestion that I pursue music in university—and I am forever grateful to her. I began with a Bachelor’s Degree in Music (Honours) and followed that up with a Post-Baccalaureate Diploma in Performance. In 2025, I became a Certified Therapeutic Musician—Certified Clinical Musician (CTM-CCM).

Image Description: Olivia Whiddon and her friend, Laura-Lee Desautels, smile for a photograph in front of a large banner celebrating the 25th Anniversary Somerset Folk Harp Festival. Laura-Lee, on the left, wears a black dress with a statement necklace, while Olivia, on the right, wears a green-and-white striped dress with a silver necklace and holds a patterned clutch. The Art Deco-style festival banner identifies the event as taking place at The Westin in Princeton, New Jersey, in July 2025.

I’ve studied opera in Italy and the lever harp in Scotland. My album, Written by Water was used as part of an art exhibit, and I’ve even played my favourite opera character—twice—in Northwestern Ontario. Friends staying nearby drove three hours to see me onstage in a workshop production of Mozart’s The Magic Flute in Bloomington, IN. We had the best ice cream after! Last summer, I fulfilled a major harp goal of attending the Somerset International Harp Festival in Princeton, NJ, in person. I was thrilled to be at a level where I could keep up with the absolutely amazing clinicians. My favourite part? My best friend joined me and now we have these memories together. I have had fun.

First and foremost, though, I’m a private music teacher. I love sharing music with my students—with anyone, really.

This past fall, I gave them a new challenge. Students earn points for music memorized, performances, and personal growth—a tangible way to see their progress. I’ve always been someone who looks for the next adventure, project, or idea, so I joined them.

Do you know what the hardest point is to earn?

Personal growth.

I’ve made my living as a full-time artist for 15 years. It’s what I’ve wanted since long before that first voice lesson—since kindergarten, to be exact. I love my job and the people I work with.

So why do I suddenly find myself without the very thing that makes me, me?

And the harder question: where does that spark actually come from?

Image Description: Olivia is back writing and performing! Promotional poster for The Water Spirit and the Opera Singer by Olivia Whiddon. The poster features Olivia seated in a forest beside a lever harp, illuminated by warm evening light against a backdrop of dark trees. Below the photograph are the event details for a performance on Sunday, July 19 at 7:00 p.m. at the Sportfishing Centre in Sioux Narrows. The performance blends folklore, storytelling, live harp, and vocals inspired by Written by Water. Admission is by voluntary donation. Photo credit: Lynsey Jordanna Photography. Poster created by Brooke Hatfield.

I now remember the moment my spark started to go out. I was out for a walk with my mom when I saw the Northern Lights for the first time. That’s right—all these years living in the north and not once had I seen them.

When we started the walk, there was nothing at first—just a pale night sky shifting from grey to black. And then the colours started to roll across the night, glowing in soft pinks and then turquoise. It was so unexpected and beautiful. A moment like this usually brings on a flurry of creativity for me, but what followed next was a series of setbacks.

Disappointment is part of what makes us human. In many ways, it’s how we grow—I’ve been turned down, funding has dried up, I don’t always land the audition—but somehow this particular series seemed to hit harder.

A few months later, I found myself looking at the running list of ideas I’ve been jotting down on my phone for years—the songs I want to write, the stories I want to tell. My finger hovered over that tiny trash can…and stopped.

At this point, I was done spending time in a useless downward spiral; it was time to lift myself back up. That’s when I decided to look for guidance. This didn’t feel like something I could do on my own.

So, I started asking myself some difficult questions and found the right people to talk to.

First, I realized I had been holding onto emotional baggage I needed to let go of. It wasn’t serving me anymore. It was time to talk to someone so I could learn how to forgive myself and others. I wanted this journey back to creativity to be one without regret, resentment or anger. Amazingly, not only was I able to let those things go, but in doing so, I regained my sense of humour.

Personal growth point one.

Next came money. How many of us hear jokes about the penniless musician? How often do we let that undervalue our work? I took a deep dive into my finances—How much do I make? Save? Spend?—and compared it to my tax records from the past several years.

Can I retire now and become a lady of leisure? No.
If I keep things up, will I be able to retire someday? Yes.
Does worrying about “someday” serve me at all? No.

So, I let it go.

Personal growth point two.

My third challenge was a bit more difficult. In June of 2025, I was injured in a car accident and still have whiplash. I have been receiving treatment, but I haven’t healed yet. A reassessment with my chiropractor helped me understand more of what was going on with my body, and that at least allows me to work with it, not against it. Injuries take time to heal, but if we’re lucky, we have time.

Personal growth point three.

Finally, I connected with my musical mentor and discovered something surprising. I’m normal. Well, at least for a musician. Living a creative life means sometimes you have too much work, and sometimes not enough. Being called to be a musician has its challenges, but it also has great rewards—and a surprising amount of paperwork.

I had now reached a place where I felt lighter, more open, happier, and better able to communicate. But I still didn’t have the desire to create. All this personal growth, and I still don’t sparkle?

Image Description: Olivia Whiddon smiles through her harp's strings, which frame her face and patterned black-and-beige sleeveless dress. She looks toward the side with a joyful expression, surrounded by soft green foliage in the background. The warm wood of the harp contrasts with the green setting.

And wouldn’t you know it, it was one of my students who helped me find it again.

As we were finishing up a lesson, an adult student said, “Thank you for bringing back some light for me. I feel better. But I have to ask—if you’re helping everyone else find their spark, who lights yours?”

I paused.

I answered—but I knew it wasn’t enough. I had to go home and think about this one.

Two days later, a ring arrived—one I had ordered for myself to celebrate 30 years since becoming a musician. The stone is turquoise, crushed and re-formed with copper.

When I saw it, it made me think of Anthem by Leonard Cohen:

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in

And here it dawned on me: Wanting to avoid future pain, I had been holding myself back in the present. I was the mistress of my own misfortune.

I had let my spark go out.

Fear and doubt had taken root where inspiration and joy were supposed to flourish. I am made of the parts that have been hurt, the parts that feel insecure—but also the good things: The curiosity that drives me, the tenacity that pulls me through, and that overly positive streak that makes my students roll their eyes.

Image Description: A silver ring with a square turquoise gemstone rests on the centre of a bright yellow Gerbera daisy. The stone features natural blue-green colouring with delicate gold and brown veining. The flower fills the frame, while the soft green background is blurred, highlighting the ring in bright natural sunlight. Photo credit: Olivia Whiddon

That’s why I chose this ring for myself. The stone is more interesting for having been broken down and brought together again—the cracks make it seem like it’s glowing on the inside.

And then, suddenly—WHOOSH.

There it was.

My spark.

Not some pinprick of light in the dark, but the whole blazing bonfire of it.

I remembered who I was: the young girl going to her first voice lesson, about to discover a lifetime of music, friendships, and personal growth.

I don’t wake up at 3:00 a.m. anymore, but I do set my alarm a little earlier than I used to. I can’t wait to start the day, to create again. Those songs are being written, those stories are being told.

I’m starting here—with this story.

The one where I asked for help, found people who understood, and made my way back.

Maybe you need your spark reignited too.  Find the people who help you grow, face your fears, let go of the hurts, and find joy in the present. LIVE creatively and set that fire yourself…

What are you waiting for?

Work Cited

Cohen, Leonard. “Anthem.” The Future, 1992, https://www.leonardcohen.com/track/anthem