Inner censor


Do you sometimes feel like you’re being censored in your creativity? By your work, family, society, maybe even friends but most of all: by yourself? Yep, that’s me. Every single day my wild creative brain is quickly shut up. By myself, of course. An idea for a poem, article, zine or blog post pops up and just as fast is buried under a mountain of shame and guilt. Because what if? What if people start to see me in a different light?


What if instead of always writing about the sweet, cute and sunny side of life, I share more of the deep and dirty? The things that occupy my mind but I don't even dare to write about in my journal because what if one day someone finds it and reads it and thinks what kind of crazy bitch wrote that stuff? No, I prefer to give a nice first impression before letting that crazy bitch out. And my writing feels like a string of nice first impressions, without ever entering the muddy, mucky parts.


Knowing who reads my blog doesn’t help me in killing my inner censor. I don’t really want my parents, ex or his mom to read about my dating or sex life. So I stick to the friendly, gentle words of life enjoyment and steer away from the tinder stories I only save for my special podcast friends. By podcast I mean long voice messages. And when I say long I mean looooong.


Yet even while sending those never-ending life updates, I stay away from the shadow side of things. The shit giving me anxiety and filling my head with worries all the time. World stuff. Ego stuff. How to numb it all into a state of oblivion. Limiting myself constantly, building walls I bump into whatever direction I choose to go.


I’d like to make those bricks crumble to sand. I’d like to believe in myself as much as I believe in my incredible friends. I’d like to stop comparing. I’d like to stop censoring. Allowing myself to be authentic in this creative juicy life, in my relationships, in my communication and on this little online platform.


I wrote these words under the full moon and felt them rushing through my veins as I witnessed the burn of the fallas last night. Ahh, nothing like a ritual burning to let go of what no longer serves you and welcome in the new. So CIAO inner creative censor and hello to juicy authenticity.

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