Here to Stay

Did I want to stay behind the glass? Yes, sometimes.

I’m going to be honest. In the haze of my own insecurities around showing up, sharing, tracking engagement, and trying to grow my business, I lost the part of me that actually has something valuable to share. Her heart, her questions, her genuine and messy, yet somehow poetic musings. They started to disappear.

I went off socials for two years, and in that time, I found ways to steady myself into a new era of sharing, building something new. It was slow and human… just an extension of me. It felt different and more aligned. But the need for validation kept creeping in. And I began to track again… who is reading? Who cares about what I put out there? Am I valuable?

As I continued to move through this awkward wrestle between self-discovery and self-doubt, I could feel the tug to perfect and protect grow fiercer. I started wanting to polish and edit through AI to avoid the “what ifs.” What if my opinion is proven wrong? What if I’m made a fool? What if I look back and cringe? Can I create certainty here so I’m not a disappointment?

Under the cloak of false security, AI and I were an unstoppable force. My whole website was transformed, every blog post, a smooth, tidy rhythm of stylized phrases that echoed the last.

I was losing my voice.

I sat back one day and was shocked at how I’d managed to write myself out of everything I had been working on. Where was I?

I began to notice how several things were true. It felt easier, like this, keeping my heart in a jar locked away from what I was putting out there. And it also felt so empty and numbing.

Soon after this revelation, I started to see that while my time offline had been so necessary, it was now feeling like another way to stay safely at arm’s length from those what ifs. Safety tucked into that cold, void jar.

I debated for a long time what I should do. Did I want to stay behind the glass? Yes, sometimes. But I could also recognize a desire to share and be seen, even though that terrified me all the same. So what was the answer here?

I landed on the tension. Realizing it may always be a part of me, I decided to honor it. Lean into it. Can I be courageous and scared? Can I let myself be seen with care and appreciation for what’s sacred, what’s mine?

I finally decided to come back online with this newfound footing, alongside a slow and important return through all I had hidden behind. Reworking myself back into the center of it. I don’t have to push past the parts of me that need time and space to just be, protected from what I publish and share. I also don’t have to erase my heart from it.

I had no idea how to do this, though. Trying to find a way to share and stay present in the hustling scape of social platforms wasn’t easy for me. I felt all my old hypervigilant alarms go off. And somehow, being back in the middle of all that noise, I could no longer ignore the small nudge from within.

I kept hearing her… please pause and feel me again. Know me again. Know that to be connected to me is the validation you need.

And now, writing this, I’m feeling emotional about the journey. It’s been tender and really precarious at times. But I’m finding my way back to her. Back home to my voice, my heartfelt Songs of Deep, my gift.

I’m feeling inspired to keep touching inward, to write from my connection to her rather than an external goalpost, even when the doubt remains.

I love her. I need her. She is here to stay 🫶🏻