I went to a party last month and some guy insisted I just start reciting a story on the spot to prove I was a writer. In the moment, with a number of eyes on me I failed to come up with a story that placated him. There’s a scenario I think about often and have been meaning to write about where a brave balloon forges a thorny forest to make it to the other side. It’s not super well thought out, but it’s something I plan to expand upon maybe and genuinely felt like it would be an interesting story. This is what I was trying to explain when I was abruptly cut off by this dude and told I wasn’t really a writer because I couldn’t tell a story at the drop of a hat. He then proceeded to string together the most nonsensical sentences, finished, and looked around proudly at everyone who looked just as confused as me. Even with his embarrassing display, the words still got under my skin. I keep revisiting this incident because it made me feel like a fraud and so small.
I didn’t know this guy and he didn’t know me- we’d just met earlier that night, but his words stung in a way that surprised and upset me to a point where I was actually questioning my ability. Maybe he was right. I am an imposter. I say I’m a writer, but I don’t have anything published, nothing that’s truly creative. I’ve written a few articles for work in the past, but that is just not the same. I started to question whether I was a good storyteller because I couldn’t immediately access a compelling story late night in a group of strangers. It stuck with my for a while. Obviously it’s still bothering me. Not just the comment, but how it affected me. I thought I’d reached a place in my creative journey where I was impervious to criticism (silly, I know!), especially coming at me from someone who has never read my writing. But the way I was so struck and gutted by this person’s 5 second synopsis of me, got me thinking about just how insecure I still am.
Since that event, I’ve been going through a bit of a creative rehabilitation. I bought a book (The Artist’s Way) to help me get back in touch with the artist I know I am and could be. The last few weeks, I’ve been dedicating time and effort to regain my footing in who I am and how I express myself. It has been an interesting testament to how society views artists in such a way where we have to unlearn many false notions and unfair assumptions about what it means to live true to ourselves. Pursuing a creative career isn’t immediately supported in many families, not just mine (initially! Now they are much more supportive 🖤) due to an understandable expectation that the financial support needed to maintain a creative career isn’t readily apparent. Being an artist in our society is oftentimes seen as self-indulgent and success farfetched. We are constantly told to be pragmatic. Living in the capitalistic hellscape that is America, the desire to live and thrive outside of a harrowing production-driven greed riddled system is looked down upon. It’s so sickening how deeply dependent we’ve become on harmful ideas of what we’re allowed to do to make us happy and also who does get to fully remove themselves from these repressive bonds. Money is absolutely a factor and is another point that seems to be glossed over in self-help books. At least, money is talked about from this balcony of privilege that the authors refuse to acknowledge in a healthy way. Yes, we need to change how we view money, but we cannot fully discount the need to be relatively financially stable and have a support network to pursue creative opportunities fully. I want to completely believe the universe will make things available, but there will still be moments of need. That is what I wish was talked about more on these journeys of self-discovery, but I digress…
I’m working through these ideas and trying to recenter myself realistically, but also not. I’m trying to use my imagination again to explore a life that I’d love to lead without anyone’s approval. Whimsy and fun are reestablishing themselves in my everyday humdrum habits. I’m incorporating positive reinforcement and gratitude. I’m reminding myself that I am enough where I am and truly getting excited about my future again. There is still so much I haven’t done yet and people I haven’t met and places I haven’t been. That keeps me hopeful and motivated. In this world of chaos and uncertainty, there is still so much possibility and beauty. Now, I am never going to be someone who can ignore what’s going on in the world, but I am giving myself the time to dream and create. Being human is complicated and messy. To be positive all the time is impossible and disingenuous. It’s something I could never advocate for, but what I can say is to allow yourself moments of peace and stillness. That I am all for.
It was hard hearing this person talk about my art so meanly, but it did get me thinking about what it means to me and why it hurt so much. I’m in a much better place now, but that guy can kick rocks. I’m off to enjoy my Sunday. I hope you enjoy yours. <3