Hi my name is Sherese, and I’m a creative
“Hi, my name is Sherese, and I’m a creative.”
That’s truly how I view myself. It’s what I know about myself innately and it’s what I’ve exuded all my life. Not because someone told me that’s what I was, or because I built a portfolio or got a degree that confirmed it but because it’s just always been there. Like a knowing. A quiet, persistent truth about who I am at my core.
Ever since I can remember, I have been someone who thrived in creativity. I’d make something out of nothing. I didn’t have every material thing I wanted growing up, but I sure as hell made up for it in my mind. My imagination was the place I went when the world felt too small or too loud or too much. It was mine. Nobody could touch it, regulate it, or take it away from me.
And when I think back to that little girl honestly, I feel a kind of tenderness toward her that’s hard to put into words. She didn’t second-guess herself. She didn’t ask if her idea was good enough before she ran with it. She just created. Freely. Messily. With her whole chest. There was something so pure about it, so unfiltered and unapologetic. It was colourful and vivid and carefree, and it came so naturally, like breathing. Backed by this effortless confidence that didn’t need anyone’s validation to exist.
I think about that version of me often. More than I probably let on.
Because when I compare her to who I am now, or at least who I sometimes catch myself being, there’s a gap there that I can’t pretend isn’t real. I am still that inner creative child. I know that. But somewhere along the way, something shifted. The creativity is still there, but it’s like it’s been filtered. Reconstructed. Watered down by years of conditioning and the quiet but crushing weight of other people’s opinions. It doesn’t flow out of me the same way anymore. Now I have to go looking for it. I have to coax it out, create the right conditions, and talk myself into trusting it.
And sometimes it feels almost unsafe to share. Like if I put something really true and really me out into the world, it might get met with silence. Or worse, indifference. So I pull back. I second-guess. I show up halfway instead of fully, and then I wonder why it doesn’t feel as good as it used to.
That tension between the creative I know I am and the filtered version I sometimes settle for is something I’ve been sitting with for a long time. Even before I came online. The decline from carefree to careful didn’t happen overnight. It was slow. Gradual. A series of small moments where I chose what felt acceptable over what felt true. And I won’t lie, that has been one of the most draining feelings I’ve ever experienced. Because when you silence the most authentic part of yourself not loudly, but quietly, over and over again it takes something from you.
You can see it in my content too, if you’ve been around long enough. I came in with so many ideas, so much energy, so much me — and then somewhere in the middle of it, something shifted. It became less about creating for the love of it and more about what would land. What would be received. What the numbers would say. And I think that’s one of the strangest, most disorienting things about being online. You can have a genuinely original idea, something that feels exciting and alive and yours, and then if it doesn’t perform the way you hoped, suddenly you start to question everything. Your taste. Your instincts. Whether you’re actually as special as you thought you were.
Let me be clear: you are. I am. That hasn’t changed.
But knowing that and feeling that are two very different things, and I think a lot of us are quietly navigating that gap without talking about it enough.
I’ve been making my way back, in whatever ways I can. And starting this blog was genuinely one of the most meaningful parts of that return. Not because it fixed everything or made the self-doubt disappear but because it gave me a place to create again for myself. To write something because it was true, not because it was trending. To show up as a creative because that’s who I am, not because an algorithm rewarded me for it.
That inner voice, the one that has always dared me to keep the creative spirit alive, even when everything else was telling me to play it safe – I’m so grateful for her. She is the reason I keep coming back.
And I think, if you’re reading this and any of it sounds familiar, you probably have that voice too. Maybe she’s been quiet lately. Maybe she got a little lost somewhere between who you used to be and who the world told you to become. But she’s still there.
She always is.
If this resonated with you, I’d really love to hear about it – drop a comment below. Where are you in your own creative journey right now?
