Scarcity mentality, and the emancipation of me from myself
Thinking. Wondering. Analysing. Dreaming. It's pretty much what I'm always doing. Overthinking? Definitely, but in the process of examining the world and my brain from various angles, I discover the well-worn grooves of thought I slip into – and can learn how to see things differently. Or choose to do something different next time.
Take, for example, a recent situation that led to a reminder of promises made, a revolution in my self-image, and the start of an absolutely terrifying new venture.
Those crazy kids
Mooching through social media a while ago at work (shh already, it's my job) I ended up with influencers rumbling in the background while I dealt with my inbox. Video after video of artists applying their personal salve to the world of pixels...via the gift of song, or vlog, or instructional seminar – and I felt a pang. Actually, a whole load of pangs. Okay, more like a multiple stab wound of feelings.
I'm used to clouds of sadness hoving across my consciousness, but this felt different to the depression I've had for as long as I can remember. This felt...active. Induced.
I shut down my computer and went home to reflect.
In my life, I've learned that if something makes me feel terrible, I need to figure out the why, what, and how – and do something about it. Control the exogenic stuff, then be kind to yourself while you ride out the rest. That's how I separate the depression from progression. It's a necessary part of defragmenting my brain.
When she calls, she howls
I reflected. Boiled it down with a sevenfold, "Why?" until I had an answer: an unworthy part of my consciousness had kicked in and I'd found myself disliking the people I was watching, for seemingly no reason. Which made me feel bad. After all, they were just YouTube kids, doing their thing. Good for them!
But not for me.
I could never make anything like that.
I'm not thin enough
or pretty enough
to feel comfortable on camera.
I love to sing
but I'm not good enough
at singing
or playing
to make videos
that are entertaining.
What would be the point anyway
when there are people out there doing it already?
Doing it better than I ever could?
I'd like to make something like that.
But nobody
would watch it
or like it.
And I wouldn't like it either.
Because
I don't have what those people have.
I'm lacking...
And there it is.
I felt awful, and felt an unworthy dislike towards those adorable, aspirational YouTubers because – revelation time! – I'd clearly love to make videos like the ones rumbling on my second monitor, but I let a bunch of stupid things hold me back. The moment I realised that the problem was my skewed, auto-pilot negative thinking, I felt a weight lift, and (as if by magic) I suddenly really liked those kids. Subscribed!
(All of the italicised self-talk above is nonsense, of course, in the harsh light of logic and reason. But that up there's my inner monologue talking, and most of the time she's not big on logic, reason, or being nice to me. In fact, sometimes, she doesn't like me much at all.)
Remembering the promises to myself
It's easy to watch a video and fall into a looming abyss of anxiety, or scoff like some people do with modern art: “Oh, it's just splotches on a canvas. Any idiot can do that.”
But you're not doing it, are you?
So, let's. It looks like fun.
The only way to be that aspirational girl, the one who makes the videos, is to make the videos. Because it's not about what anyone else is doing. It's about making something, and having an outlet. Adding to the pile of creations in the world. Because what do we say when we see hippos making love? We say, "GREAT, SOON THERE WILL BE MORE HIPPOS!" It's about putting my money where my mouth is, and letting my promises to myself come through.
It's about elbowing through my imperfection project regardless.
Getting uncomfortable, and living with my mistakes.
Because
I genuinely
don't have what they have.
I'm lacking...
but only in a willingness to try.
(Alright, plus maybe the misguided confidence of the young, but whatever.)
Who cares if nobody likes what I make? No-one reads this website either – but editing the cascades of my thoughts, capturing the perfect accompaniment photo, grading the light just so, constructing the flow of a post, folding it up and launching it out into the slipstream gives me so much pleasure, and such a sense of achievement, that I do it anyway. Nobody likes what I paint, but I do it anyway. Because it feels good.
I need to do it anyway with this thing, too. In living colour, and moving picture. Sing because I love to sing. Play because I love to play. Talk because I love to communicate. Make videos because it'll be fun, to make them, to learn something new, and put something out there.
Art is
simultaneously made to be seen
and not.
But art that's rubbish is still better
than an idea
that never gets realised.
Do it anyway.
Be inspired by the others.
Them doing theirs doesn't diminish me doing mine.
There's enough room for everyone.
Art isn't about comparison,
it's about evocation.
If it makes you feel
something,
anything,
it has done its job.
And I have a need to create
and do
and share.
(You may laugh,
but soon there will be more hippos.)
Hiding behind myself
When I first started writing this site it was under a nickname-as-sort-of pseudonym: Red.
Writing as Red felt safe. But that safety means she'll always be the girl before the jump. The one who stands on the diving board and...slowly shakes her head. Steps backwards. Retraces her footsteps down to ground level.
Maybe next time...
Don’t get me wrong: Red’s the me I am, only very slightly veiled – after all, I’ve linked here from my private Facebook on a few occasions. I’ve hardly hidden. But while I’ve another name as a blanket fort to hide behind, there's a safe stopping distance from actual bona fide me.
The why of it all
Why foster that separation with a pen name? Fear? Insecurity? Anxiety? A need to put her away when I’m done trying for the day?
Yes? Yes. That. Those. All of the above, and more.
But I clearly needed to be reminded of why I started all this, and thanks to those rumbling influencers and the default mental mode that my mind clicked into, I have been.
(Thanks, brain. You're rad!)
Let's rectify this mess
I can't truly own mistakes when they're committed under a persona.
If this whole endeavour is to become comfortable with more things by putting my little creations out into the world, it's counter-intuitive to have them be listed as someone else's.
Perhaps it’s because I've grown comfortable in my position on the sidelines: I've always been so good at fostering excellence in others that I forget to paint the world that way for myself.
I've shied away from visuals – though I enjoy making photos, and it feels good when I do – and I've certainly stayed out of the viewfinder thus far.
Maybe next time...
No. This time.
Climb up again, and step...but forwards.
Hi, I’m Fay, and I’m very pleased to meet you.
Changing my signature
I've gone back through all my previous posts and owned up to them, removing every mention of pseudo-me and replacing them with my actual name. I was expecting to feel good about it – liberated maybe? Actually it was just kind of a chore, and one that made me feel kind of weird. Strange how living In Here isn't like the movies.
At least that part’s done now.
The fool who goes all-in
I have a YouTube channel, but it only houses a couple of playlists thus far. I've already bought a camera, lights, microphone and such – now I just need a little time.
Going forwards, I plan to record (or re-record) some of my imperfection project covers as videos. Maybe I'll do some vlogs, once I'm more comfortable in front of the camera. I haven't quite figured it out yet, but there are a lot of possibilities, and I'm full of stupid ideas and mistakes not yet made.
And now, a newfound willingness to try.
Watch this space.
Love always,
Fay
xXx