I had finished yesterdays post, blue and purple lights bouncing off my white walls, and gentle jazz crooning in the background. I felt accomplished, sure, strong. After the defeat of Week 1 of the Artist’s Way I was feeling worse for wear but somehow I managed to turn it around. I got a piece of writing out (no matter how choppy), took a long hard look at my time management, and started deconstructing my perfectionism.
After scheduling the day’s post, I decided to scroll. It’s a much more mindful waste of time compared to Instagram or TikTok, so I obliged myself. Then I scrolled across the following quote:
“I truly believe that during some seasons, you are only meant to be legible to yourself and your dead. In those seasons, your work, your writing, the you you are becoming require deep, erotic, wild darkness. Don’t let the desire for public consumption pull you into the light too soon.” — Sasadya Jayde
It stopped me in my tracks and I suddenly found myself filled with doubt. Was I jumping the gun by taking on this challenge? Should I just do the Artist’s Way in curated silence and rise from the ashes like a Phoenix in January 2027? Was my guilt of not putting out ‘something’ exposing my raw baby artist skin to the world too soon?
I’ve noticed that being a very open person leads people to believe that you are somehow naïve. That there’s no way you’d be that open if you knew just how scary, awful, and disgusting people could be. And maybe that’s true to a certain extent. I have a tendency to see the best in people, and perhaps it’s my neurodivergence, but it’s sometimes hard for me to perceive disrespect, disdain, or deceit because that’s not my default setting. I assume most people like me. I assume most people are kind. I assume most people are doing the best they can. I will continue to assume humanity’s innate goodness because the alternative makes me want to run into a wall.
I’ve also noticed that your openness leads people to believe that you need their unsolicited advice. That they with little information on you, your life, responsibilities, capability, and capacity have all the answers to put you where you need to be. That’s awfully presumptuous and self-centered of them.
I notice people spew more information than they ask questions.
I notice people have a lack of curiosity about others, and instead like to beef themselves up.
I notice people get offended when you don’t take their ill-timed advice.
For the first time in a long time I’ve been able to slow down and perceive myself through others’ eyes. To some I am a naive starry eyed debutante, a rising star that needs a nudge in the ‘right’ direction. To others I’m a heathen, a Jezebel, a tramp who’s far too comfortable in her filth. To even more I am a guru with a wise and measured gaze, a well of knowledge and insight.
So many ways to be perceived, it’s maddening. No wonder why perfectionism has plagued me, I can’t figure out which facet to show to who, who’s safe to be a goblin around.
I chronically externally process. It’s just how I do things. But I’ve decided my musings are better put to a page, to a canvas, to your inbox. There is distance between the words as I write them and when you receive them, or rather perceive them. This medium forces you to listen, to contemplate, to chew on my words. This medium insulates my pink and fresh baby artist skin, while still giving me enough exposure to develop.
Do you struggle being perceived? How do people usually perceive you? How do you manage other people’s perceptions of you? Let me know.