Mic check, 1, 2

Private areas and existentialism

Hi! I recorded you a voicenote last night in which I share why I haven’t been writing on Substack lately. As I’ve spent these months writing primarily for myself, it’s raised a ton of questions—such as, Am I still a writer if nobody reads what I’m writing? and Is art still art without an audience? and Do I exist if nobody sees me? That last, very existential, question is the one I’ve paused on the longest, as I navigate other sub-questions of self-worth and identity. Maybe I’ll share those eventually—for now, voice is a more comfortable medium for me than writing so I hope you’ll accept this vocal rumination (scroll down for a transcript).

Good morning from the window of my favourite cafe, where I’m watching people on their morning way. Good morning, especially, to the guy getting on his bike who had evidently just put on a bangin’ playlist for his commute. He was living for it—for nobody but himself. I hope we all get to channel that same energy today.

1) Four things that make me happy: Venus, a cat, an affirmation, and all three of those in one place. 2) I am ok, yes, but will I ever forgive The Rock for ruining black turtlenecks and gold chains for me? Unlikely.

[Transcript of voice note for anyone who just prefers reading]

Hey, how's it going? It's been a while since I've spoken to you on Substack. And I didn't want to put anything in writing, but I thought I might try talking to you instead. So I'm going to do that very badly, and very unprofessionally, while I put on my makeup and get ready to go out. So I'm just gonna be thinking out loud here and talking to you, as if I'm recording a voice note to one of my friends, because I think I think I'd be most relaxed that way. So I hope that you will accept this format.

Um, so I haven't written anything on Substack for a while… which actually isn't true. I've been writing a lot. I've been writing every day for months. I've been writing in my journal, I've been writing on Substack. Also, I have piles and piles of drafts that just haven't gone anywhere. And the thing is that the more that I write, the more I realize that I have so very much to say at the moment, but I don't, I'm not actually ready to share anything. And I guess I'm in a process that really reminds me of a process that I was in when I first started my Substack. And, you know, for the past month, I've been berating myself a lot—like nothing I write feels good enough, I don't feel like it has value, I don't feel like anyone will be interested in what I have to say. But also just what I'm feeling and thinking right now seems so incredibly private. And that's another thing about the situation that I'm in now is I'm kind of in my private area—my private area?? Not going to talk to you about that! In my private era, I beg your pardon.

And I'm really, really enjoying it, I'm enjoying being insular, I'm enjoying being private. I've deleted all my social media, even LinkedIn, which is just an awful place to be more than usual right now. I don't have Twitter, X, whatever. And I'm really enjoying the fact that nobody except the people that I want to know what I'm doing, see me or my face, ever. Unless they're people who have access to me and I speak to, like, the same five people every day. And then occasionally, I might bump into someone outside or meet up with someone but I'm really enjoying the fact that I'm in this process of—God—becoming right now, which feels really cringe to say that, but you know, I am—something is happening and nobody has access to it, nobody can see it. And I think that sometimes it does have to be like that, especially because we're living in a time when everyone has access to us all the time, sees what we're doing. And honestly, it's been such a relief, it's been so refreshing that nobody knows what the fuck I'm doing. And sharing right now seems like the full experience gets diminished somehow or diluted. Almost like I've sprung a leak. So I am containing myself right now.

And I was talking earlier about this similar process that I was in, headspace that I was in when I started my Substack. This was, I guess, like, more than two years ago now, two and a half years ago. And I had been through something really traumatic, a really huge life event that was a bereavement. And for a long time, I didn't feel like I could write and I felt very much like I do now. I had so much to say but I couldn't express myself I couldn't find the words—which is different now because I do very much have the words, I’m just choosing not to share them. And I felt like I've lost my voice. And so I started my Substack, kind of like an exercise in clearing my throat.

And in doing that, I realized that I did have a voice. My voice was very much there and it was coming out but it just sounded completely different to the voice that I had had before. And I realized that what I had been doing was keeping myself trapped by trying to create as a version of myself that I had been before, when this event that I've been through had so fundamentally changed me, as a person, like on a cellular level, where I wasn't feeling things and experiencing things and living as the same person anymore. And so it made no sense that I was trying to write and express myself as this person as well. Like the world looked completely different to me now, my filters had changed, my lens had changed. So when I realized that I could write, but just not like I could write before, and then I figured out what my new voice was. And it was a lot deeper and a lot darker. And I went with that.

And then my Substack was formed on the basis of that experience and who I was, at that time in my life. And it's been a really wonderful process the last couple of years. But I've now I'm going through another process. And again, events this year, although not as traumatic at all, very cathartic, actually, for example, my autism diagnosis this summer and turning 40 this summer—really big life events that have shifted the way not even that I see myself, but the way that I, I see the world around me, and also how I see myself in this world.

And I'm figuring out who that is, and what that sounds like. So I think that's consistent with a bit of a content break, perhaps. And I'm figuring out what I want to say and how much I want to share. And another reason I'm telling you this is because when I first started my Substack, I called it The Percolate, which I made “percolate” into a noun, I thought it was cute, I still do. And I called it The Percolate, because what I wanted it to be all of my experiences and learnings that had been filtered to share with you for your consumption. And the idea was that I wanted it to have value, I wanted to share something useful with you, I appreciate so much that you come to my little corner of the internet here, to hear what I have to say. And I really wanted it to have value and to be useful, and I put so much thought into into what I shared with you to make sure that it was good enough to share with you. And I guess that's another thing that's changed. Because one of the things that I've realized this year is that I have spent my whole life believing that I have to, I have to be exceptional, or have something to offer in order to matter or to be valuable. I feel like I have to be providing tangible value to the world around me to justify the fact that I'm here and the space that I'm taking up. And this is something I've been aware of for quite a long time. But it's taken me years to break that mindset.

And I found that I've been doing the same thing with my Substack as well, I really wanted it to be an offering that would validate, or justify me being here and you coming to me to hear what I have to say. And that strikes me as profoundly narcissistic now, which I'm sure that it is. But now how I feel is that I don't want to have to matter. I don't want to have to be useful or valuable. I just want to fucking exist. I don't believe that I have to have tangible value to other people in order to have value. I don't think I have to justify that to anyone except myself. And that's another reason why I'm being really really private because I don't think I have any obligation to show any part of myself to anybody else and as someone who is a debilitating, people-pleaser, I'm also trying really hard not to care what people think. And it's much easier to do that, when you’re not sharing yourself with anyone.

So that's where I'm at right now. And I don't know what The Percolate is going to look like, going forward. So, if you're a paid subscriber, I'm so grateful to you. I thank you so much for your faith and belief in me, which I just want to say, I don't think is unfounded. But if you feel like for the time being, while I'm pausing, maybe, maybe I'll be back to do more stuff like this. And if that's interesting to you, please stick around. I love having you here. But if you want to save your inbox, and anything else, I completely understand. And I really look forward to coming back to when I have more to say.

But meanwhile, I really, really welcome hearing from you still. You can reach me anytime by replying to the email, if you receive this by email, or just in the comments. So thanks. And sorry for taking up 11, almost 12 minutes of your time. See, this is this is why I'm not writing right now. Because another thing about blogging on The Percolate—I said, I called it The Percolate because I wanted to filter for you. And I don't want to filter anymore. I really don't. I want to be the rawest version of myself possible. And maybe that's the version of myself that I can share with other people in time, and maybe I won't want to. So, anyway—thanks. Love you. Really appreciate you. And maybe talk soon.