Vulnerability Hangovers & the Art of Showing Up
And other things that are messy and real on this wild ride called life
Alright, so here’s the deal: this year, I decided to get even more real with you. Maybe I’ve watched one too many TED Talks on vulnerability (thanks, Brene Brown), but honestly, I think it’s because I crave real, human connections more than ever. With the world feeling more disconnected than ever (thanks, social media chaos), it’s time we embrace the raw stuff.
I’m no stranger to vulnerability hangovers—the aftermath of sharing too much and feeling like I’ve laid my soul bare for all to see. It’s that cringe-worthy moment when you hit “publish” on a post or say something raw, and immediately, a wave of second-guessing hits.
Frick. Did I really say that? Did I overshare?
Now I’m biting my tongue until it bleeds, wishing I could take it all back—except I know I can’t. And honestly, maybe I don’t want to. Because as much as those hangovers sting, they’re also a reminder that I’ve just connected in a way that feels real, messy, and authentic.
At the end of the day, that’s what I’m here for: the raw, unfiltered, take-it-or-leave-it kind of connection. I came into this life to get messy, to roll around in the guts of it, so when the “end of life” highlight reel plays, I want it to be a story worth replaying. I want my spirit guides, who are already watching me live this wild ride, to be just as on the edge of their seats during that replay as they are in real time. Yeah, I’m intense like that.
Vulnerability and creativity have always gone hand in hand for me. To truly create, you have to strip away the layers and let yourself be seen—raw, messy, and imperfect. That’s where painting comes in. It’s not just about the brushstrokes or the colors; it’s about laying my soul out on the canvas and trusting that what comes from it will be real. Each piece I make is a reflection of my own vulnerability, my highs, my lows, and all the in-between moments.
In a world that feels disconnected, painting is my way of showing up and saying, Here I am. I’m open. I’m human. I’m alive. The ability to paint is my superpower, yes, but it’s also my way of embracing vulnerability—because every stroke is a step closer to understanding and connecting with the world around me. And to myself.
The current state of the world is not unfamiliar territory to me. I grew up in chaos. I realized pretty early on that creativity was a way to anchor into a world spinning on f’ed up axis, so I leaned into it. It was my superpower, and I used it whenever I could—because that’s how I survived.
Commercial Break: I highly recommend it as the best medicine your internal self has to offer. Freaking make something already! It’s good to tune out and off every once in a while. And necessary for the soul.
Okay, back to your regularly scheduled blog post:
Creating felt like breathing—it wasn’t something I thought about, it just happened. Over the years, I never really stopped to wonder why I had to create. It wasn’t until I got older that I realized it wasn’t just a hobby; it was a part of me, like breathing or eating. And no, I didn’t think I could turn it into a career. But, you know what? I accidentally did.
When I’m deep in the flow of creating, the world melts away. It’s magic. It’s grounding. It’s everything. It’s what I turn to when the world feels upside down. And the best part? If I mess up? I can just redo it. (If only life came with a reset button, huh?)
Look, I’ve had my fair share of personal struggles, but I’ve always found refuge in creation. Even when the art is messy, or the world feels like it’s spinning out of control, I still show up for it. It’s my safe space. My grounding. It’s how I know how to connect in a world that feels disconnected.
I’m an artist. I express. I create. I’m here to spill the highs, the lows, and all the in-betweens onto sets, canvases, and pages. Through my art, I say, I’m here. I lived this. I am this.
In a world that’s been rocked by a pandemic, political chaos, and endless uncertainty, creation is how I’ve always found a way to connect with others—people like you.
Every time you engage with something I’ve created, even with just a “like,” it means I’ve been seen by you. And that means I’ve seen you too. We’re both here. We’ve both lived through this wild ride. We’ve both got the scars, but we’ve got the beauty, too.
If you want a deep dive into vulnerability, check out Brene Brown’s TED Talk at the bottom of this post and let me know what you think in the comments below—because I’m pretty sure we’re all craving some real talk these days.
If you like what I’m putting down here, please consider becoming a paid subscriber and supporting my work.