I Want This
I created Pointy Chin Diaries a year and a half ago, and I am finally ready to admit to something that has petrified me since Day One; I want this.
In January of this year, I attended a Twin Cities Collective brunch and won a free session with Katrina Widener. She’s a life coach and all around bad-ass babe. I was thrilled at the time, but it took me over a month to schedule the session. It may sounds strange, but I felt a lot of guilt about winning it. There were so many entrepreneurs there who had such passion and drive, who were doing amazing things and deserved the services of someone as skilled as Katrina way more than I did. It actually took Katrina reaching out first to make me finally schedule the damn thing. It was an amazing hour, I was immensely grateful, but I did struggle during it. Katrina made me come to terms with some things that I was purposefully not thinking about. She asked me what my goal with my blog was, and I couldn’t answer the question. I told her I didn’t know, but she pushed harder, and got me to say the words that I really didn’t want to utter, “I want to be an influencer.” I hated that I wanted that, I thought that it was such a stupid thing to strive for. Influencers are vapid girls in their early twenties who get paid thousands of dollars for selling soap they don’t really use, why would any intelligent woman want that? I said that I wanted to be an influencer, but that I didn’t want to want to be an influencer. She asked me to name a few influencers I admired, and asked me why I admire them. I named all of the accounts who were challenging my preconceived notions of self love, beauty, diet culture, and body positivity. I listed all the ways that following their accounts had helped me in my own recovery and self discovery, and she very plainly asked, “do you think they’re stupid for doing what they do?” Of course I didn’t, I admired them wholeheartedly, and am immensely grateful for the work they create. I sincerely believe that they are making it easier for people to love themselves and celebrate that love, how can that be vain?
If I’m being honest, the resistance I feel towards embracing goals and intentions with this blog is not entirely about shame, it’s that I am very afraid of failure. During my conversation with Katrina, I could only think of one thing more pathetic than wanting to be an influencer, and that was failing at being an influencer. I went to college to pursue a career in acting, and spoiler alert, I’m not an actor. I failed at that, I gave up that dream because it was turning me into a monster. Anxiety about booking the next show, about how I would pay rent, about how close I was to over-drafting my account consumed me. There was no time for the art that drew me to acting in the first place. I was an envious, anxious, stressed out mess and I needed more stability. I have no regrets about getting my acting degree, that’s how I met my husband and he is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. All of the decisions I made then have led me to where I am now, and I love where I am now. That doesn’t mean that failure is easy, and the fear of failing again is a hard thing to shake.
When I started this blog, I said that I didn’t care if anyone read it. I said it was more of a diary for myself, and if someone else enjoyed it that was great, but it was mostly for me. I don’t think that was ever entirely true. I always wanted people to read this, I still want them to. It’s not because I want the likes or the views or the shares, it’s not because I’m hoping to get that big influencer skincare money. It’s because nothing makes me happier than when someone opens up to me about their own story, when someone I either know in real life or simply through Instagram feels safe enough to tell me that they struggle too. When someone tells me that my blog is helping them through their eating disorder recovery and/or journey towards self love, I feel like I’m on top of the world.
So there it is, folks. I want this. I want to write about eating disorder recovery and body confidence. I want to meet people and create a space in which people feel safe, heard, and respected. I want to speak on panels about it. I want my writing published. I want to help people feel comfortable in their own skin. I want this, and I’m going to keep working my butt off for it because I love it. I may fail, but it’s worth the risk.