TLDR: I am an artist & my inner critic is a bitch.
How being picked on in childhood incited my imposter syndrome.
In the last post, I stated when I was ready I’d give you an explanation as to why I’ve been so inconsistent with Subtle Lessons. I’m ready now. Buckle up. But before we get to that, let me introduce myself.
I’m Chazen. I am an artist.
Writer. Painter. Singer. Songwriter. Guitarist.
I am a late bloomer, not expertly skilled in any of these modes of expression, but I have the rest of my life to grow alongside my art. I am here to do just that.
Yeah… I know I’ve been avoiding you. Avoiding myself, really. Thankfully, while I was dodging you, I have been paying very close attention to my inner critic. Y’all, she don’t quit. She is such a bitch. Not treacherous like Regina George, but berating like Angela from Why Did I Get Married? (If you know both of these references off top, I’m hollering!) She’s a manipulative, quick-change artist, with a closet that rivals Cher’s motorized wardrobe. Refined discernment is necessary to recognize when she’s copped a new outfit and moved the goalpost.
After releasing Navigating Uncertainty, my inner critic had me vacillating in self-doubt, centered in self-abasement and arrogance. Reflecting on my spotty commitment to Subtle Lessons, if I were to pare down the additional ramblings, my internal dialogue with her goes something like this:
It’s been almost a month since your last post. You’re failing at this. Just like every other artistic project you’ve half-assed.
I purposely didn’t set a cadence for the blog because I didn’t want to create pressure to perform. It’s my way of allowing myself to flow into the process of discipline from an organic place instead of succumbing to performance and mistaking it as discipline.
Whatever. Who do you think you are anyway? Why do you think what you share is valuable to anyone?
It’s my truth. Being this vulnerable and self-accepting may help others see that it is okay to be vulnerable and accepting of themselves too. I’ve received good feedback from my posts.
Oh, feedback from the people that are your friends and family? They’re just being nice. How many people read this and think it’s a complete waste of time? You don’t write nearly as well as so-and-so.
I’m still developing my writing skills. And, yeah, maybe someone thinks that. But I have this many subscribers, so someone must think it’s valuable to read.
So, now the number of subscribers is important? See, you aren’t even doing this for the right reasons.
That’s not what I meant. I am sharing my thoughts with the people who support me. It’s an exchange.
Are you doing this for them or yourself? This is probably just your codependency in disguise—your obsession to help people unnecessarily. You said this was supposed to be about you and here you are putting in all this effort to people please. You haven’t changed.
I am always changing. In the few posts I’ve published, being vulnerable about my personal struggles is my practice in releasing perfectionism, which is a huge part of my codependency. This was the whole strategy and point of Subtle Lessons—to outsmart your bullshit. (←future me be lookin’ out)
You are being fake vulnerable. You aren’t sharing how crazy you really are to your readers. If they saw THIS side of you, they’d unsubscribe.
That’s not true. And maybe I will show them how ridiculous you are.
You’re not even a good writer. Everyone can see you’re a fraud, except you. You’re in denial again. Give it up and save yourself the embarrassment of documenting how broken and delusional you are.
Now y’all can see why I’ve been avoiding you. I’ve been getting into it with her almost daily. Unfortunately, I’ve identified so strongly with my inner critic, which gave those hateful and discouraging thoughts power to control my behavior—withholding my art. Not just writing, but drawing, painting, singing, guitar playing, and songwriting. My imposter syndrome expresses itself through self-sabotage by giving permission to my inner critic to smother my artistic expression before it even has the chance to take form.
How the hell did she get so powerful? Over the last few months, I’ve delved into being picked on as a child. I am the only child of my parents, but the youngest of three. My late half-brother was a classic mean, older brother who found pleasure in torturing me, physically and emotionally. My eldest half-sister is never cruel but has a thick skin and a love for banter that I almost always took personally. I am sensitive. I am also a second-generation immigrant. IYKYK. Criticism is handed out like free samples at Costco. I was mostly raised around my Filipino family, though my dad’s family was not too far away. That being said, my dad and I were the only Black family members at each Filipino festivity, which occurred frequently. And I don’t know about you, but my personal experience with Asian families is that they are racist. So, let’s add countless micro-aggressions, comments and jokes confirming you don’t belong that sink deep into your psyche to be uprooted decades later. We’ll get into growing up bi-racial in another post, trust. In addition to this dismal cocktail of low self-esteem, I was an ugly dork growing up. My untamed hair was as dry as a Popeye’s biscuit, I had big feet, crooked teeth, big ears, and cheap clothes. Yet I was brilliant. I loved school and excelled because my intelligence was effortless. And while I am grateful for the benefits of being well-educated, this also created a fixed mindset—leading me to hastily quit new endeavors when true discipline and effort was required, deeming myself not inherently good enough for the task. This fixed mindset has served as a primary foothold for my inner critic to launch her assaults.
I’ve also been MIA because revisiting old memories of being bullied and shamed was much more painful than I anticipated. Many tears were shed for my younger self and the long-lasting effects of her heartache. I am exhausted. But in clearing out that old energy, I can clearly see how my inner critic has been fueled with ammunition from others’ voices early and seamlessly kept alive by my belief and identification with these thoughts. In a previous post, Pobody’s Nerfect, I wrote, “The voice of your inner critic isn’t your true Self. If you can begin to identify whose voice it is, you can begin to separate your identification with the inner critic as You and engage with it from a place of curiosity and greater empowerment.” See? This blog is for me.
Are you the type of person who turns down the radio when you get closer to your destination because you need to pay attention to where you are? THAT. It has taken me years to turn the volume down on the deafening roar my inner critic has directed toward my artistry, and now I can pay attention to where I am. I had to get quiet to remember Myself. Since launching Subtle Lessons, I have learned to become more skilled in observing my inner critic instead of engaging in a battle, while sending compassion to young Chaz who bore the brunt of it all.
It is terrifying to put your art out into the world. But you know the saying, feel the fear and do it anyway. As inconsistent as I’ve been with my art over the years, I cannot extinguish the glowing embers within to pursue the uncertain path of artistry over the safety and comfort of a standard job. I don’t know for certain if I am who I think I am—but the truth is I am responsible for my gifts. Burying my talents prevents them from the refinement of exposure. This refinement comes, not only from doing the damn thing—and by doing so progressing in the endless mastery of execution—but more importantly, the internal sharpening required to face yourself honestly enough to appropriately recognize and therefore steward the gift. This isn’t about commodity. This is purpose. The call of Being. This is about raw, honest expression. And living honestly doesn’t come easy in a world of artifice.
The moment you stop hiding is the moment you are seen. It’s funny how avoiding being truly seen by you was simply a distraction from seeing Myself. I commit to not comparing myself to others who are further along on their path. I release the fear of being judged as whack, foolish, or crazy by others. There is no competition when I am being Myself. I am incomparable. I am the expert of my life. I am validated by my unique expression of existence. And others’ voices, opinions, and criticisms are none of my business.
Thank you for supporting me even when I couldn’t yet see myself. I hope y’all are ready for more of my artistry…
Okay, you’re making all these claims and promises to them now, but we both know your album gon’ come out after Rihanna’s.
Girl, shut up.
UPDATE: As I ramp up the consistency with Subtle Lessons and begin to share my music, paintings, whatever else with you all, at this time I’ve decided to keep all posts public instead of erecting a pay wall. Navigating being an artist in a capitalist society is challenging and I haven’t yet struck a balance. It may be a sense of unworthiness, so this is subject to change, but it’s where I am today. If you are blessed enough to comfortably afford becoming a paid subscriber, I ask for your support. I’ve updated my About Me and Subscription Tiers to reflect this.
All subscriptions, likes, comments, donations, shares on socials are also recognized, impactful and received with gratitude. I’m clear in my calling and I know that I cannot do it alone.
I’m ready 🙃🔥