The fear of being me…
I just tried to take a nap in the office I’ve rented at the Healing Society in East Nashville. Struggling to focus at home, I opted for this communal coworking space instead. It’s Friday at 11:51 am, and I’ve been here for exactly 51 minutes. I arrived a bit early, anticipating my session, but a crowd around Room 6, my spot, thwarted my plan to sneak in some extra minutes.
At 11:00 am sharp, I headed down the hall to Room 6, which feels tailor-made for a successful author like me. The Healing Society sounds like a secret club I’ve always wanted to be part of—minus the dungeons and dragons. Instead, it’s filled with office supplies and loads of books, reminiscent of the clubs I longed to join as a child.
Room 6 greeted me with its dark green walls and an old-fashioned decor that’s hard to pin down—perhaps Victorian? It features framed pictures of fruit bowls, floral-print chairs, and butterflies. A small desk sits to the right, barely big enough for a laptop and a cup of tea, but it oddly includes a trifold mirror that lets me see myself in triplicate. I’ve never seen a desk with a mirror before, but I love it. It even made me look fantastic today, enhancing my new haircut that gives off a carefree, just-off-the-boat vibe.
I settled in, ready to harness the magic of these two hours with my computer. The office was set with a desk, a chair, a loveseat, and a wall of eclectic art—a portrait from the 1920s, a painted fruit pile, an avocado tree, a Mary Poppins-esque portrait, and a gold floral sculpture.
Yet, here I am, trying to write, and nothing comes. Maybe a meditation will help. After a 20-minute session on the loveseat, I felt spiritually connected but still creatively blocked. Frustration bubbled up as I realized my precious time was ticking away. Why is it so hard to do what we love?
I pondered this as I mixed a caffeinated drink in the kitchen to shake off the tiredness. Returning to my office, I noticed an hour had already slipped by. Why do I spend my mornings doing chores instead of indulging in hobbies I adore? Today, even without household distractions, I struggled.
The truth is, I’m scared to live my life for myself. Despite a near-suicidal crisis at 35, which jolted me with the thought, “What if you lived your life for you?” I’ve been torn ever since. The fear of not being enough, of needing to earn my worth through accomplishments, haunts me. I want the freedom to waste time on Legos, to be foolish without fear.
Yet, when people visit and see my comics and Legos, they don’t reject me—they love me more. Maybe, just maybe, the world won’t end if I choose to be fully myself. If I don’t, isn’t that the real tragedy?
Our greatest fear is not just failing or being unloved, but being rejected for who we truly are, leading us to hide behind facades. We act how we think others want us to, thinking that if we are rejected, it won’t hurt as much because it isn’t really ‘us’. But living this way, we never experience true belonging. It’s only when we lay down our masks and stand vulnerable that we can truly connect. This authenticity is terrifying because it leaves us with everything to lose, but it is also the birthplace of genuine belonging. It’s time to embrace who I am, to be foolishly, joyfully me. More Legos, more nachos, and definitely more of the real me.
