Before you read this, I’d like to you to participate in an experiment with me. Take a quick look at my page. Do you have a perception of me? Who you think I am? How successful I am? What I value? How confident or insecure I am? Am I outgoing or introverted? Loud or quiet? Do I look happy? Do I seem incredibly sad? I like to use social media to inspire others. I share my thoughts so that other people who are experiencing what I feel can know they aren’t alone. In my opinion, it seems we live in a world where everyone is obsessed with appearing to be ok. I think admitting that you are struggling is something a lot of people are afraid to do. As an artist, a daughter, a sister, a friend and a human I will be fully transparent- I struggle a lot. I’d like to preface that I’m honest about my relationship with myself in person as well as online because true vulnerability is being honest with the people who truly know you, not the ones who just perceive you.
Not until around March of this year did I consider myself a “successful” person. Before then, I was in a constant state of chasing perfection. I hoarded work because I didn’t think it was good enough. I exhausted myself trying to be amazing at everything that I did. If I didn’t do it perfectly, I beat myself up for it or I just quit. This and many other factors resulted in me becoming a person who froze under pressure. I became a shell of myself. Post Grad was an extremely hard transition for me. All my life I was given structure. From the time I started elementary through my graduation of college, I had my life pretty much planned out for me. I followed all the rules to a T, played things pretty safe, and took things day by day. It didn't help that school was never really hard for me and then I went to art school so you know how that goes. Then I graduated from college. The best way to describe this experience is through skydiving. Getting on the plane initially was scary, but once I was there it was chill. I buckled my seatbelt, knowing that before the plane took off there were steps between me and the ground again. The pilot would have to start the engine, drive to the spot for take off, then we’d fly for a while. After that I knew there would be instructions along the way for how to get the best out of the experience and how to remain safe. Most importantly, I knew I’d have a parachute.
When I got nervous about the idea of jumping I remembered I wouldn’t be diving alone. Not only were there instructors present but also people who had never jumped before experiencing it with me. It felt like we’d been cruising comfortably for a while- talking, sharing our fears, giving each other pep talks, learning the ropes. And then it was time to get up. I watched as other people one by one leapt out of the plane. What should I be afraid of? I’ve prepped for this for all this time. I knew exactly what I got myself into when I got on this plane and I’ve been learning the whole way here. I step up to the platform. I can’t really see, but I can trust that other people have made it safely to the ground. This is it. I’m going to jump. All that time waiting brought me to this moment. Right before I’m getting ready to step off …I ask “Wait, where’s the parachute? I don’t have a parachute,” to which the instructor replies- “There is no parachute” and then they kick me out of the plane. All of this to say, graduating from college feels like being kicked out of a plane with no parachute when you were pretty sure it was guaranteed before the flight. It feels like knowing you will hit the ground eventually, you just don’t know with what force and at what time.
To ground this allegory -pun fully intended- I and everyone else navigating their 20’s are afforded 15 something odd years of structure and then all of a sudden radio silence…stillness. We went from asking to use the bathroom to expecting to know what we want to do with the rest of our lives. Graduation felt like a pause. For me, this pause was immediately followed by expectation. “I’ve got a film degree what do I do with it?” Expectation was then followed by fear. “Holy shit, I dead ass got a degree in film, what am I doing? I’m one of those people! What if I don’t “make” it? What if I can’t handle what it takes to be a film maker? Fuck it, Ill just stick to photography instead. Wait, that field is equally as scary? Can I hack it being a starving artist? My work sucks. What if I try and I fail? What if they reject me? What if they find out I’m a fraud?” I stayed in the stage of fear for about 2 years. During this time I put my camera down and I didn’t make personal work. I disguised this choice as me figuring out why I made the work I made but it was just fear. From 2019-2021 I’ve never felt more unlike myself. I’ve always been cautious but terrified of life? This was new for me. In between that time I dug really deep, (probably deeper than I should have) to figure out what was going on with me. Hours of meditation, therapy, journaling, self help books, podcasts, self reflection, life altering conversations and many tears later I’ve come out of this experience a “successful” person.
For years I was hoping and wishing for an idealistic version of success, one that wasn't my own. Today more than ever- the ideal successful person has thousands if not millions of followers, an influencer lifestyle, a huge house and, an even more expensive car. Don’t get me wrong, I have goals for my career- some of which are high reaching- however whether or not I reach said goals have no bearing on my success. I get to decide what success looks like for me, and so does everyone else. For me success is taking portraits of people that I love. For me success is me being a good friend to those around me. For me success is serving as inspiration to people. For me success looks like trying something new and being okay with fucking it up. For me success is feeling better than I did yesterday. For me success is living authentically. For me success is serving community. For me success is being the voice I keep asking to see in other people. For me success is being able to see the world. Success is the journey for me now. I’m content with this. Any other blessings that comes my way is just a bonus. What does success look like for you?
One final note I’d like to make is this. I’m someone who experiences crippling anxiety. This anxiety affects most areas of my life- work, creativity, relationships and most importantly my relationship with myself. I struggle with being proud of the work I make. I struggle with saying no. I have struggled with confidence my whole life. I’m also very much so a starving artist. I’m willing to bet at the beginning of this when I asked you to glance over my page and come to your conclusions that you expected any of this. The final product you’re seeing on social media is not the full picture. It took years to cultivate the strength, expression, and honesty I'm presenting right now. I’m choosing to share with you because I want to. People are not responsible for your perceptions of them, and they do not owe you their entire story. And that’s how we should take social media. Taking what you see on here as pure reality is straight up disillusionment. On the other hand, I am really funny, I’m really into fashion and interior design,I’m obsessed with astrology, I live, breathe, and eat art, I make bomb playlists, I’m a perfectionist, I love my friends and photography makes me incredibly happy. These are qualities that I also have that you may have guessed. This is the persona that I try to express in the world. This persona is only a fragment of me though. People are multifaceted, we aren’t just what we show online and that’s what makes us all so interesting! Outside of these squares and pixels we are Human. The next time you’re judging your success based on what you’ve seen someone post online remember you don’t know what it took them to get there. If they aren’t part of the 1% or have the initials KK it probably took their own blood, sweat and, tears (and the blood sweat and tears of their tribe). Your journey is uniquely yours, embrace that. With or without a parachute.
With Gratitude,
Lo