Many months ago when I observed my lack of engagement compared with other vaguley similar accounts, someone told me I should consider niching down my Instagram- get clear on what I am about. At the time I believed it was said with good intentions, but now I suspect that person had already realised that they had bitten off more than they could chew. Anyone who knows me well will understand that I balked at the suggestion. That grid was the first place where I felt able to bring my full self instead of just the parts which were palatable, and I was damned if I would start then to appease the algorithm, just as I’ll be damned now!
It’s not my business page, it has become a record of my creative life (a small proportion of which is business), and therefore encompasses all that I am. Currently that is a middle-aged, Black mother of two, using art to try to help process a fairly recent ADHD diagnosis and recover from burnout whilst holding down a challenging job. I am learning self-trust and self-acceptance, how to form healthy relationships so that I can avoid future repetition of mistakes which have up-rooted long-buried attachment trauma and left my sense of self in tatters. I’m learning to witness and understand the signs that my mind and body give me when I am crossing my own boundaries, and to validate and respect my emotional reponses when someone else does.
It is a lot.
I am a lot.
I tell my messy truth in the hope that it helps you find comfort, and the beauty in your own. I share things for which I have felt shame, because in doing so it loses some of its power over me, and anyone who shares that shame.
I’m slowly learning to live more honestly day to day, and there are still situations where it’s hard to let the mask slip. But my online spaces will not become another place for bite-sized Emma; you may choose which aspects to interact with and filter out the rest yourself…
Or you can choke.
