THE ANONYMOUS HUSTLE: Chapter 3 - Pigeonholes

Since I love being honest with you all, let me start by saying this – I am HELLA nervous about this chapter (and literally writing this at the eleventh hour because I’m terrible at life right now). This is the first time I’m putting something out on the interweb where I’m fully aware that people who have connected with this blog will very likely be reading this. Don’t get me wrong though, I don’t have like a couple hundred people reading this blog religiously all of a sudden. I’ve only got maybe a handful which goes to show you that, with my slightly racing heart rate, I’m a big anxious wuss. So, now that I’ve gotten that off my chest, shit. How do I even start?

Right. Pigeonholes. It's easy to get ignorantly lost in one. I've been in plenty and am still in butt loads. Depending on who I'm with, I'm seen in a different role. I’m a teacher to my coworkers, a singer to everyone who met me in the past decade, a pianist and musician to a select few, and not to mention a goody two shoes, an embarrassingly obedient daughter, and a tangled mess of neuroticism with a huge heaping dash of low self esteem, just to name a few. Only as of recently did I see a reflection of someone that rings truer to whom I feel closest.

All these other roles I play aren't versions of myself that I necessarily want to be rid of. The problem I have is losing myself constantly in only one of them when I get emotionally attached which, mind you, isn't all that hard since I could probably get attached to a pebble if you gave me enough time. When I get lost in one of these roles, I forget I'm more than just that. With my debilitating perfectionism in the mix, I lose myself in trying to figure out how to be the best at that version of myself whether for better or for worse. As of the past little while, I pigeonholed myself into the category of singer and anything music related because to be fair, that's really all I remembered being in love with. This isn't true at all. I just couldn't see that.

So what you just scrolled past is a very flattering picture of mini me (does the sarcasm read through?) because I realized that this new version of myself that I've started to embrace isn't really new at all. She was there all along. With my hipster-looking ball cap on backwards, awkwardly dorky smile, and obnoxiously yellow Nike jacket that I also wore backwards just because I fucking wanted to, she was just forgotten. I loved taking photos, learning new things, stories, movies, art, and most of all, music. I loved anything creative. Period. I was addicted to  evoking emotions in people, I shunned anything that was considered “trendy”, and I was pretty damn proud of being different and not fitting in. What the hell happened along the way? At some point, I got caught up in those darn expectations and then I started to care about what I thought people wanted instead of paying attention to what my own body was screaming. She tried her damned hardest to be heard but I was too busy listening elsewhere.

This may be my longest post yet so I'm going to wrap up here in fear of sounding like a bumbling fool. I branded myself as a creative entrepreneur because I wanted to make a go of making a living off a creative life. I intend to make music, perform, take photos, make a movie, write a book, and who the fuck knows what else (Oh dayuummm, my second f-bomb. It means we're best buds, trust.) It was the closest “career” that seemed to include everything I wanted to do one day. I'm so excited about this chapter because for the first time, I know I've found someone I'm truly happy with because she doesn't only assume one character but multiple characters. It's like having your cake and eating it too, with a side of pie, ice cream, and Nutella-dipped Oreos. Who doesn't want that?

Until next time,

Stay bold and beautifully weird.

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