Creating great art requires baring your soul
but I’m terrified to share the messy, unpolished sides of me
the complicated, too real parts
that fear leaves my work feeling too tender
I’m scared to be seen.
But aren’t we all?
Isn’t that the whole point?
//
We all have demons. Some we carry quietly. Some we try to outrun. Some we dress up as ambition, perfection, strength.
I’ve actively been digging mine up these last few weeks. Through writing. Through photography. Not waiting for them to surface—going after them. The stories I tell myself. The old shame I thought I’d outgrown. The parts of me I’ve shoved deep because they’re too tangled, too tender.
I stopped running. Let them surface. Forced myself to face what was actually there. To sit with the uncomfortable truths I’d been avoiding. To sort through what was mine to carry and what I could finally let go.
Confronting the stories that have been running the show from the shadows is brutal work. Looking directly at the shame, the fear, the parts of myself I’d deemed too much, too broken, too real. Some of it needs to stay. Some of it is just poison I’ve been carrying around.
Being seen requires this deep internal conversation. You can’t show up authentically in the world until you’re willing to face yourself. The quiet, often painful work of confronting your own truth—that’s what clears the way for others to see you. Not the polished version. The real one.
So I keep digging. Meeting whatever comes up with curiosity instead of fear. Because I’m tired of burying parts of myself.
//
I took this photo when I was 25 just after I cut my hair short the first time. I never shared the photo. It felt too raw…too revealing. But now I’m learning to own that part of me.
