Admittedly, I’m feeling shame from some of my earlier posts that outlined my history and identity as an attractive woman, so I’m eager to fill my blog with new entries that will bury the old ones, though I know they’ll never be truly erased.
The truth is, I’m unsure if these blogs are a sustainable practice. It’s not exactly seductive to air out my own dirty laundry and divulge every detail of my endless introspection. But then again, I’m not trying to be likable in these posts. The point is, A: to get in touch with my feelings, which I am finding brings clarity to my life processes as a whole, and B: to master my fear of being seen for who I authentically am.
Most of us live with the worry that we are bad people. I know I do, anyway. I am constantly trying to prove I’m not an asshole because I’m white, affluent, and beautiful. And then, of course, you couple that with my mission to be famous which is inherently vain at face value. But I think even if none of that were true, the majority of human beings question whether they are good enough.
We all have demons from our past, social categorizations or family history that we are trying to overcome. Whether it’s drugs, poverty, racism, alcoholism, mental illness, toxic relationships, body dysmorphia, it’s all the same. We want to be better than those insecurities. We want to be worthy of love.
Consequently, we inadvertently position ourselves in a way that enhances our public image. We are very selective with what we say, what we post, and which parts of ourselves we share with the world, often overcompensating for what we feel we lack deep down inside.
We’re all used to that game by now, carefully curating our own brands to be accepted by our tribe. There’s always a particular set of norms to follow in every era, the popular way of thinking and doing things, and veering too far beyond that is scary because it could mean exile. Especially in the age of the internet, where internet warriors are always waiting to pounce.
So when I say things like this, the things I’ve said in past blogs that aren’t part of the mainstream conversation, I feel vulnerable. But honestly, I’ve never been one to keep things inside. I feel too deeply and my heart is too open for that.
Sometimes it seems I am oversharing, but that’s what an artist is supposed to do, no? I’d rather do that than choke on the things that haunt me because they’re stuck in my throat.
Since beginning these writings, I’m beginning to feel like myself again. I’m coming back to life, and things are improving all the time since being reconnected with my inner voice.
As long as I’m happy, it’s got to be a good thing.
Ttyt,
Hannah