“I’m off the deep end, watch as I dive in,
I’ll never meet the ground,
Crash through the surface, where THEY can’t hurt us,
We’re far from the shallow now.                                            Lyrics by Lady Gaga Performed by Lady Gaga & Bradley Cooper

What actually happened is I tripped on the ledge of the pool and belly flopped in the deep end. I had to get back out and dive in properly. Make sure I go all the way to the bottom. So… the question still stands… Who Are THEY? “They” are figments of our inner critics (or so we’re told). My inner critic likes to throw rotten eggs and tomatoes at the inside of my brain, sometimes the outside too. You can see them (“they”); don’t deny it. We all know that is not true. THEY are real people who criticize, judge with knowing, cover of the book is all they see thinking their cover is so fantastic. It’s different for every person who “they” are and yet it’s also the same. Like someone left exactly what was needed just for you but it creeps you out. Same fear, same anxiety, same happiness, same disappointment, same triumphs, loss, being judged.  I’m afraid someone may like me and then I have another friendship to maintain.

Writers are loners or have a small circle of friends for a reason. Too many people in the circle and the creativity gets lost in the clutter of other energies.  I have 1600+ posts on my Instagram.  I used to have over 3000 followers and people I followed. I had to choose my “they”. Figure out who was in my way and bulldoze. I crashed into the deep end, almost drowned (Well, I downed a couple of times. Death is fascinating, you should try it.) I deleted them because it was too much to handle for me if I wanted my writing to remain my first love. However, if a writer falls in love with you, you can never die. Remember that, it’s important. I wanted my small group of about 300 other writers and poets and artists and so on.  Now I can see the posts I want to read because they are not lost in the clutter of the other thousands of posts, I felt I had to “follow back” every follow I received, or I was considered a snob. I’m on IG for feedback, not a pat on the back (good job little girl) No, NO, NOOO!  I don’t want just a like, I want actual constructive criticism. I have my small community again of encouragement and understanding of “writer’s block” (that hits you on the head and knocks you out.  You wake up with an idea or empty.  One never knows…). Slow mind days, staring into space searching for your muse who has decided to take a vacation and drink margaritas leaving you to stew without any creative juices. 

One person’s nightmare may be another person’s carnival. Example, clowns are creepy, but I don’t run. Then you have Sarah Paulson who will likely puke if she sees a clown. (I fear the inner “Eggs” more). My carnival would be nothing but SKI BALL!!! Just swing that arm and fling that ball till your arm falls off. I’m sure there’s a spare arm laying around somewhere. Oh sorry, did I not mention that my carnival is strewn with all the characters I have started to create and then decided they can’t live, and I ripped them up… you know the pages. I believe the characters are really me.  I’ve wanted to be someone else my whole life. I had a lot of negative feedback in my house growing up, so I had little reason to like myself. And yet, the me I wanted looked at me every day. (Let that one squirrel around in your head for a bit). Is it in the mirror or another person or an inner critic joke. WHO ARE THEY?

Now… I’m the shark in the shallows, friend or foe depends on the “swimmers”. I’m a writer locked in my primal ways. How others approach me… or don’t, is what sets in motion frivolity or catastrophe. I like a bit of both. It adds spice to the constant chaos in my head which brings forth the question… Could “they” not even be a “they”?

© 2022 “I see… what others refuse to see.
I am… what others refuse to be”
Lady Kate Phillips