Shameless

What to expect: Ramblings that likely circulate living with the internet, body inhabitation, and other miscellaneous notes - depending on my mood. Basically, welcome to my diary.

Volume 1. An unmarked path to shamelessness

In fear of self promotion in a deeply digital world, I have resisted putting out any form of personally manufactured… art/work/stuff surely out of a deep fear of rejection, failure to produce something good enough etc. Not only has this kept me stuck in the same place for the last 3 years but it’s made me feel quieted, stunned and stuck. Self-induced!! I come up with all these great ideas in my head and when I get to the execution I find myself inert. As if my lightening in a bottle idea suddenly turns to dust. Poof. Immediately any inch of interest or motivation is gone and instead with the same power of joy I had just mere seconds prior, I am filled with self doubt, loathing and a comical take on my own taste. I often ask myself where I lost my ability to express without the inertia. My youth was spent dancing, performing and dreaming. My adolescence; tumblr and watching indie movies, cutting up old photos and artists work I loved on my bedroom floor. The wall surrounding my bed was plastered floor to ceiling, a kaleidoscope of what moved me. I didn’t stop to trouble myself with what other people would think, or how it would be interpreted. And I certainly didn’t have any app to open or browse through to use as a shaming mechanism like I do now. I just did it, and I didn’t compare.

So, really, when I ask myself where that essence went. I know my answer.

Shame. The 4 letter word that continuously circles the self-help drain. The one that never really goes down, like there’s a clog blocking its decent. I do the shadow work -the draino of self-helpery- and still, it’s not enough to get that shit down sometimes. SO, I’m giving it a rest and learning to let the Shame be there. Instead of trying to drown its ass, I’ve placed a little seat next to my toothbrush so it can hang out and speak to me. And god does it speak. The things always got something to say. Right as I get the idea or the interview or the opportunity. It perks up ever so proudly with a little shimmy in its seat right before it pipes up to say "'YOU AIN’T GOOD ENOUGH.” And for some reason, historically speaking, I listen. BUT, with all the tools in my aforementioned self-helpery arsenal, I’m learning to listen without absorption. I still hear it sure, but I’m taking an observatory seat. (Something Shame could aim to do…)

So, as I work through my perfectionism and fear of being ridiculed, I’ll be challenging myself to put out unedited, unrevised stashed away or new essays. A way for me to snake the drain, so to speak! I’m going to let what wants to come through, come. Keeping the facet turned on, I’m going to let it flow out of me with a rush of joy.

What to expect: Ramblings that likely circulate living with the internet, body inhabitation, and other miscellaneous notes - depending on my mood. Basically, welcome to my diary.

If I don’t start somewhere, I won’t get anywhere. This is more for me than it is for you.

PS. This book is changing my life.

Kenzie x