Who even am I?
Yesterday saw an inspiring day at the Excel
center for the summer in the city event.
Brilliant.
I arrived there feeling like I looked good,
was confident and totally ready to embrace the learning that the event was
about to bring me. Yet I heard more
about creating a niche than ever (They are right of course, but it left me
feeling confused) and I also left feeling old.
Knowing I’m a sensitive soul is one thing,
but Jasmine and I went to a stand to talk to someone about their merch and
instantly they assumed I was her manager. Not that I might be a creator in my
own right. Well I am. And a monetized
one too. People want to see my videos every week and also I have loads of
people wanting to read my stories I write.
As well as very popular Facebook groups for those travelling to the
hotels I travel to.
“Oh no she has her own channel too,”
Jasmine said.
“Oh God, my dad has a channel and it’s so
embarassing.” Said the other lady. Was I
embarrassing then? Jesus. What an awful thing to say. I thought I was a cool
person.
Mum and Dad always critisied me and it has
taken so much work to get myself to the place of not feeling like that anymore
but one small comment and I’m right back there again.
Leaving feeling kinda ok, looking forward
to chatting to someone I met on a dating app later in the evening with
excitement, I was then met with a morning of waking up today feeling blue and
grumpy. After a conversation with the
guy and feeling it didn’t go well, again, I just was swept into a downward
spiral of feeling unwanted, good for nothing, unloved and useless.
Of course this isn’t an actual fact, it’s
just how I’m feeling right now. The
sooner the feeling passes the better.
People seem to think I’m perfect, strong
and indestructible. I’m not. I’m trying
hard to be all things to all people but it’s a struggle.
Now I have posed the question of
1.
am I a travel vlogger
2.
am I a writer
and I am yet to find the
answer. The online poll I did saw people suggest I’m a writer which was sweet. Settling into writing stories is something I
would completely love of course but the belief that this is going to be enough
on its own is a totally difficult belief in its own right.
If this is what people
want, is this now who I am? The
academics at university seem to think so, so perhaps I should think so too.
Imposter syndrome at it’s
worst, this is a really hard one to fathom after my confidence took a knock
yesterday.
