To Share Oneself

Written April 2021

The other day my mom was going through some blogs she had written years ago on a site that was shutting down. That day was the last day that site was open, and it was sad for her.

I found it interesting that she had written so many personal things and published it online. Personal info, such as names and such was kept out, but still...it was interesting. My mother has always objected to anyone putting things online - because online is permanent. Things get stuck in the archives and people can dig it out.

This is one of the things that held me back from creating a website for years. From blogging. From creating any art form and sharing it with others.

It is something that held me back from pursuing acting as a career - the one thing that gives me vitality. The one thing I keep coming back to. To be vulnerable on camera for the whole world to see? What could be more personal than that?

My mom was reading some of her blogs aloud. And their contents were profoundly authentic. She relished the comments her online friends had given her. She smiled at the memories that came back to her. It was raw. It was beautiful.

It got me thinking.

And I really don't know what to think of it.

There were so many lectures growing up about sharing information. We were always told to keep hush hush. There is sense in this, of course. Internet safety is incredibly important. Don't give away your SIN, birthdate, credit card numbers, address, etc. to people we don't know we can trust. Be smart about our choices.

In my family's case however, the rule went so far as to not share our opinions or any other piece of ourselves with anyone we didn't know. These things could be used against us. The rule was to not even put our first names on the internet (or to share them with any other strangers, of course).

(This rule can be debated, I know. For any readers: I'm writing from the middle ground - the rule was well-intended, but it could have been extrapolated a bit to make my childhood a little less anxiety-inducing. Also note: The following story has more to it, as all stories do.)

I remember when I was maybe 14/15 years old, I made a short film with my sisters and put it on YouTube. I wanted credit for it, so I put my name on there.

And suddenly (according to my mom) we were "going to be victims to pedophiles and human traffickers."

While it is something that could happen, it would have been unlikely with the amount of info on the project. We got an earful. I remember the disappointed look on my mom's face waiting for me to tell her that I "went behind her back and did something incredibly [sinful]".

I took the video down. And I was ashamed of myself for years after.

This was an industry that I was really doing my work on. I was researching every aspect of it. I had written the screenplay, wrote a shot list, set up the cameras, directed my sisters, and had acted in it myself. All of the post-production was done by me. I really wanted to be part of this industry, and I figured the best way to do that was to practice.

I was proud of the work I had done. And suddenly there was nothing to be proud of. There was only shame - and even more shame that my creative itch would not subside.

After that scenario it took a long time for me to use a computer without feeling judged. My artistic expressions were kept secret. I still drew pictures. I still wrote songs, poems, and stories. I never shared any of it until a few years later, and even then, it was minimal and to a select few. I was always nervous about sharing my work.

My film side? I quelled it.

Around the same time the above scenario occurred, a couple of my friends and I were making spoofs of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. It was fun, but I had to halt production. I knew that it wouldn't fly in my house. I had written several screenplays for the series - my friends were adamant that I write them. They also wanted me to play the role of Buffy (because I'm blonde and can do a cartwheel).

When I told them I couldn't do it anymore I shut down. Hard. I lost a few friends because of that phase. A phase that lasted about a decade. A phase where I began to care less and less about the world and how it ticks. A phase where I continued to learn about acting and filmmaking. A phase where my heart was not in it.

It hurt. And it took a long time for me to get where I am today.

Where am I today? It's tricky to note...

I've been on a bit of a personal journey, and I feel as though I've only just begun that journey on another level. One that will get me where I want to go in life. A place that has little to do with art, and everything to do with what lies beneath it.

About a month ago I decided to take a step back from trying to be passionate about the one thing I was sure I wanted to do. Instead, allowing myself to just be. Though I'm only a few months into this new phase, I really like where it's going. So far, I've been able to let go of so many painful things I was holding onto unnecessarily. I've been happier, calmer, less reactive. More at peace.

Writing these blogs is a tool for me to let go even more. Letting go is a very liberating experience.

Lately, by taking a step back, I've been allowing myself to truly listen to others. I'm naturally growing more curious. I'm learning more about the world every day. It's humbling to realize how much I really don't know. It's amazing how much more I want to learn. My relationships have been growing stronger and clearer.

Of course, there are things I have been doing to get me here. Tools that I will continue to use to cultivate passion and ease. Yoga, meditation, limiting distractions. Choosing the content I consume with intention. Among other things.

I've come full circle. And it's truly amazing comparing who I am today to who I was 10 years ago.

Once again, I am watching behind the scenes and feeling the creative itch. Once again, I am looking into ways I can learn more about the craft as well as the world in general. My passion is being rekindled, and this time, I am nurturing it. Not grasping, hoping it will stay. But letting it come and petting it with gentle strokes of love.

Art is a huge part of who I am. I want to share myself and connect with the audience in a profound way.

Of course I'm going to protect myself. But that doesn't mean I can't put my stinking name in the credits.

And I understand where my mom was coming from. I get it. And I love her with all my heart.

Now that I'm definitely over 18 and can choose what to share online (which was the deal with my mom from the start), I'm going to begin sharing myself. For real. I may face opposition and judgement from the people I care most about, but I'll also be telling stories that connect with people around the globe.

"Making one person smile can change the world - maybe not the whole world, but their world." - Unknown

I've slowly been beginning to remember why I loved this industry so much. And it's something that's surprised me because it goes against who I thought I was for most of my life.

This industry is about relationships. Pure, loving relationships. Between co-workers, and between the audience. There is so much love and support found between like-minded individuals. There is so much passion in art. We are all working to make sense of life together.

And every audience member is someone that we can touch with our art. Every piece we make is a chance to connect with another human. A chance to inspire hope in a world that will always need it.

We are a species with a biological need to share ourselves. Social connection is vital to our happiness.

So, here I am. I am choosing to consciously share the parts of me that need to be expressed. I am here to share. To contribute to the story of this world as it continues to unfold.

What will I share? Words that occur in the moment. Authentic and real. Also known as blogs.

And many other art forms.

Acting. Music. Poetry. Film. TV. Stage. Fine art. Audiobooks. I still have many art pieces I made growing up, and I am ready to share them. Not all of them. But the ones I feel most proud of.

There is an art in being oneself. Of trusting ourselves enough to feel what we're feeling right now. In this very moment. Moment to moment. And being okay with that vulnerability. Sharing it. Expressing it. Loving it.

Here is the proof that I exist. Here is the truth that long after I'm gone a part of me will live on through the infinite world of the internet.

These things can't be truly deleted.

And maybe that's a good thing.

It's okay to exist. And it's okay to leave remainders of our existence.

It's okay to be seen.

And heard.

And felt.

And loved.

And it's okay to let go.