On fear, turning 30, and the creative process.

Just over a month ago I turned 30. Women are told that, among many other things, this is the worst thing that can happen to us. Aging? In 2023? How dare I. But in actuality, I feel pretty good about myself. Even…excited for 30?

When I rang in the new year, it felt like a switch flipped. I had 9 months until I turned 30 and I could reach that day feeling worse about myself or approach it for what it is: just another birthday. Not only do I get the birthday blues every year (it’s not a birthday if I didn’t cry!) I’m also a recovering people pleaser which means that out of everyone in my life I have a tendency to let myself down the most—I’ve broken countless commitments to myself. I didn’t know how to articulate it at the time but I realized that I’d lost trust in myself. I wasn’t acting in my own best interests, I wasn’t putting myself and my needs above external expectations, and I hadn’t created an environment that nurtured me. I didn’t want to turn 30 and still feel like this.

I’d slowly put myself into a box. I started living inside my head. I was viewing myself through the lens of how others might perceive me if I put myself out there. What had started out as a small seed of fear in my early 20s snowballed into this paralyzing sense of dread that I’ve been carrying with me ever since. Every step forward became a struggle against this inner voice questioning who I thought I was and why I had the audacity to think that my creativity was worth sharing with the world. 

Worst of all though, I had convinced myself that putting my work out into the world, being seen in the public eye, and therefore making my opinions and my taste known was the single most embarrassing thing I could do (if we’ve been internet mutuals for more than 4 years you might notice that I post my work way less than I used to). What if people disagreed with me? What if people secretly laughed at my work behind my back? Or worse yet, what if I made work that I cared about, but no one else cared about it? These thoughts started to show up around the time I was 24 years old. I started losing trust in myself to put out work that actually resonated with others, and if I couldn’t do that then it meant that I didn’t deserve to be creative. That voice inside my head was…unkind.

I noticed this pattern of having an idea, wanting to share it online, and then choosing to shrink away from it because even though I was unhappy it was still safer than the risk of showing the world who I am. And I was angry. Angry at myself for feeling this way, angry that other people's opinions could have such influence over me, angry that this is what so many women go through. But mostly just angry that it took all of my 20s to come to the realization that I could do whatever I wanted and it didn’t matter what other people thought if I felt happy and fulfilled by it. I feel silly for thinking about it this deeply or taking it this seriously because all I had to do was just…make stuff and share it. But if you’ve ever experienced this kind of creative paralysis you know it’s not actually that easy.

I was tired of feeling like I was dragging my creativity from one day to the next, but never actually doing anything with it. I spent a lot of time this year thinking about who I am and what I want from my life. I noticed when that inner voice was talking and started writing about it instead of continuing to live in my head. It helped immensely.

I can’t pinpoint exactly when I noticed a change in myself. But I know that as I write this I feel as though I’m on the precipice of a new era, not with a loud proclamation, but with a profound understanding of what it means to be me with my creativity in this world. I’m just sad that it took me until 30 to feel this way.

I spent so many years not seeing my creativity for the gift that it is. I let the fear of falling short or producing something less than remarkable turn this sacred and beloved process into something I actively avoided. It would be a lie to say that I don’t still carry that sense of dread with me—but it doesn’t feel as heavy these days. 

A large part of me mourns for who I was in my 20s. I wish I could tell her that things get better. And that that voice telling me I’m a fraud who will never be happy is a liar. I can’t tell my 24 year old self that, but I hope that this newsletter might reach other creatives who do need to hear it. 

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Here are a few resources that helped my creative journey this year and that might help you too:

1. Practice, Process, Craft newsletter by Rachel Jepsen

2. The Creative Act by Rick Rubin

3. Narrative Constellations course by SFPC

4. Small Matters Exhibition Design workshop by Tammie Knight

5. All About Love by bell hooks

6. The Perfectionist's Guide to Losing Control by Katherine Morgan Schafler (a little girlbossy ngl but I still found it insightful)

If you made it this far, thank you for reading and subscribing. <3

– Keya

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