THE ANONYMOUS HUSTLE: Chapter 6 - Self Identity

Self Love – Series Within a Series, Part 2 of 3

BE TRUE TO YOURSELF. BE A VERSION OF YOURSELF THAT MAKES YOU HAPPY. KNOW WHO YOU ARE BUT ALSO VENTURE OUTSIDE YOUR COMFORT ZONE BECAUSE MAYBE YOU DON’T ACTUALLY KNOW WHO YOU ARE. That…is generally what my head screams when it comes to my “identity”. As someone who solely focused on pursuing a career as an artist for a decade, I thought a lot about what I should look like, my style, and what my outward appearance actually looked like. Sounds vain, right? Well, I skipped the vanity and went straight to the insecurity. Now, keep in mind, identity isn’t only defined by how our outer shell looks but we’ll get there!

Since I could dress myself, I firmly believed nobody could tell me what I could and couldn’t wear. I look like a slob wearing sweats in public? Who cares. I shouldn’t wear pajamas to get groceries? Watch me. I need to wear a dress to the semi-formal? I’ll wear jeans underneath a dress with a white button-up underneath (you think I’m kidding but sadly, that is a very true story). To this day, I still believe that nobody can tell me what to wear. Pajamas at the grocery store? Two months ago, no lies. The conversation with my boyfriend went as follows:

Me: Ok, I’m leaving.

Him: Aren’t you going to change?

Me: Uh…why? I am driving DOWN THE STREET to pick up SNACKS. Why in the HELL does it matter if I’m in PJ’s.

Him: Mmmmmmmm...'kay. Don’t forget to bring a grocery bag.

Me: I probably only need one, right? K, love you, bye.

Him: Love you too, bye.

To be fair to my sweet, he likes dressing up and looking good. You won’t ever catch him in sweats unless he’s going to the gym. He’ll say I take longer to get ready but we both know deep down, he’s the one to change at least three times before he can decide on an outfit. Yes, I’m being the lesser person by winning this argument knowing full well he’ll probably never read this (yay good sportsmanshipppp).

Now, despite my sheer confidence in being able to wear a clusterfuck of an outfit when I don’t feel like picking out clothing that is socially acceptable, I used to be very insecure about my identity. I never felt like anything I wore or how I did my hair was my ultimate “look”. I wanted to find my Jennifer Aniston hair or like P!nk’s never-changing pixie undercut (yes...there is an exclamation mark, I Googled it, folks). I wanted to know an exact style I felt comfortable in that was going to set me apart from everyone else; something that would help me get noticed easier by the powers that would give me success. I wondered if I should avoid dresses and skirts because I’ve always felt uncomfortable in them or if I should go outside of my comfort zone and wear them until I felt comfortable. Am I girly or just a tomboy? Am I always going to be edgy or only hipster chic? I would try out different clothes but whenever someone said, "Oh my gosh, you're wearing a dress!" or "Woah! That's not something you usually wear," I got self conscious and shoved it into the back of my closet assuming any remark I got was a negative remark. I had such a hard time figuring out what felt like me until slowly it dawned on me: WHO CARES. Why did I care so much about finding this one look or style? I can do whatever I damn well want. Insert, “Yaaassss, queen. You tell ‘em what’s good.”

I’ve been caught up trying to do that not only with my outward identity but my shooting style, my music, and really any creative endeavour that I want to monetize. That goes against everything this blog is about. Not to mention, it took away my time and attention from actually creating. I’m not supposed to figure out my end result all at once. It’s about experimenting and trying and my “style” is a result of that. My identity is comprised of anything that makes me happy. So the only question that matters when I look in the mirror is, “Does this feel good?”

Until next time,
Stay bold and beautifully weird.

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