I’m sitting here in a different Blenz than I normally go to, and my entire torso feels like someone stuffed it inside of an etcha sketch and shook it until all sense of identity and clarity and comfort were wiped clean. Wiped clean after spending forever constructing the perfect drawing. All the details were exactly right. Just enough shading there, a little bit of mystery and intrigue in the way that my head was titled ever so slightly to the left. A litre of determination and a cup (maybe 2 cups) of innocence, naiveté and “it’s not her fault.”

Then suddenly the drawing is gone, and I realize that I couldn’t replicate it even if I tried because it was all some sort of weird and twisted fabrication of the person who I thought that I had to be. The person that I thought others could like and love. But secretly I hated her. Secretly I’m glad that the drawing is gone and yet the pull of my pencil and the need to create an identity that will please the world makes the tips of my fingers tingle.

When I first wrote this post, all of the “I’s” were “yous” because that’s safe. I like being safe. Maybe this blog post isn’t safe, but that’s only because someone shook my drawing, and now my heart is in my throat and as I peel my eyes away from my computer I realize that I am surrounded by people, and that there is a world outside this small little screen. A world that I want to join and contribute to. A world that I want to create in. A world that I want to have an impact on. I’m just so afraid.

I watch myself in conversation. While the other person speaks I listen with wide eyes as I quietly calculate what I should like and dislike about what they are saying. I have an opinion, and I feel the opinion that I should have expressed hours later when I’m laying in bed and thinking about that stupid thing that I said before. Why did I even say that? I don’t even agree with that. I don’t even like people who feel the way I made you think I felt.

But, I said it so that you would like me, and so that you would think that I was charming and cute and endearing. And if I make a mistake? No problem. I can hide behind “naive” and “innocent,” because “I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

Oh. There it is again. I can feel the fear in my stomach. I can feel the fear swimming behind my eyes. I wish that I could take a match and light a fire behind my eyes.

I want to set fire to all of the self help books, and pills, and perfect mornings that I thought defined me as something. I want to set fire to my belief that I am someone who needs fixing. I want to set fire to the perfect mornings where I did EVERYTHING right, and yet still felt insecure as soon as someone saw me. I know who I am when I’m by myself, but damn if I can bring that girl into public.

I want to set fire to the girl who feels to the need to prove herself, the girl who is never enough, and the girl who closes herself off and diverts her gaze.

On my wall I have a vision board. On that vision board are words like bold, unapologetic and fearless. Can I want to embody those words? Or in reaching for these qualities am I once more trying to create something, an identity, that I’m just not. Or maybe those words represent freedom from constraint. Maybe I have my own flavour of bold, my own way of being unapologetic, and my own laugh that organically bubbles up when faced with something I’m afraid of. Like publishing this post.

Maybe I can just be me and express myself and who I am the way that I feel comfortable expressing myself and who I am. And if you don’t get what I mean about etcha sketches and matches, then who cares. Except that secretly I do care. I’m working on it.

Now that I’ve gotten all of that out, I am actually breathing a little easier.

Oh, and part of the reason I’m struggling so intensely with fear right now, is that I LAUNCHED A NEW WEBSITE! Check it out: Creativelifestyleblog.com

That’s me by the way. No makeup. Just on the beach first thing in the morning, and feeling light and free. It’s a good feeling. Now to take that girl out into the world.