I went through a phase when I was younger. To chase after musicians, writers & dj’s.

I believed that if I was chosen by them, that it meant I was special, that I was cool.

That I would brag in later years when they would be invariably famous, that I slept with that dude.

I idolised their talent and saw the brightest futures ahead of them.

I wasn’t giving much thought to my talents back then.

I was a mess of anxiety and heavy drinking.

Panic attacks and going to therapy.

Feeling like I had potential but no power to express it.

Looking back I think part of the problem was growing up around 

sayings like ‘behind every great man, there’s an even greater woman’

Or media coverage of women consisting of pictures of their cellulite or portrayed as victim of a crime

There weren’t many role models, no social media feed of powerful women

Except partners of politicians or thank god Mary Robinson and Mary McAleese

If you grew up Irish

I found myself lost for many years.

Frustrated. Burning. Yearning to create.

Living off fantasies, empty because they weren’t the real thing.

It’s the kind of pressure that creates insanity or change

And I chose the latter.

Eventually.

To show up and share.

Unfurl my thoughts and feelings in a way that feels alive.

To the vision, voices and sensations that arrive with a new creation.

Trying to push aside, potential criticisms. Whether just or unjust.

And reveal me.