to be perceived

To be perceived, what a strange thing.

I was a shy kid, a wallflower teen, an introverted adult.

I loved doing community theatre as a kid, but only if I was like the 12th tin soldier, the third bunny from the left, part of the chorus, never the star.

I loved doing yoga demonstrations in a group, the feeling of being one of many.

I eloped. In part, because I did not want the pressure and attention of being a bride.

I’ve had feelings that vacillate between judgement and envy over those who are so comfortable in the spotlight, those who seem to bask in it.

I’ve spent a decent part of my life trying to minimize and mitigate being perceived.

And slowly, slowly I’ve found ways to tiptoe out of my shell. Because as awkward as being perceived can be, there is also a part of me that craves to be seen and known and witnessed.

Adornments and crystals were a gateway. A way to talk about energy and emotions and experiences, to move beyond the surface.

Writing is a gateway. I often don’t know what I think, how I feel, until I write about it. And sharing my writing and my process and thoughts and feelings, even about things that are deeply personal, feels good to me. And such beautiful connections have bloomed in this space.

Despite it feeling enormously awkward, I try to show up on video from time to time in my IG stories. I absolutely love seeing other makers and artists and humans show up that way and it’s inspired me to try to do the same. Occasionally.

And now, self portraiture. What medicine this has been. I am seeing myself in a new way, through a new lens. I am not minimizing this work. I am holding it with reverence.

And allowing it to be seen.
Even in its nascent stages.
Even in its imperfect form.

This is me showing up for the work.
This is me trying.
This is me allowing myself to be perceived.