If you were discovered today, would you be happy with what people find?

What a question, which appeared to me suddenly tonight. If I were ‘discovered’ today, and my life catapulted into the spotlight, with all the glamour and scrutiny it contains, would I be happy with what people find? I can honestly say that I have no idea. What would people find? An Instagram account full of attempts at reels, amateur slideshows, and two self-published books. 

I wouldn’t say I’m unhappy with that necessarily, but I do look at my work and feel that I am so…unfinished. I think that’s the best word to describe myself right now, though I’m not sure how ‘finished’ one is expected to be in their early twenties. I see this time as full of both unbelievable possibility and utter terror as everything in life feels so high-stakes. If I choose a certain career, will I be trapped there for life? If I participate in a certain hobby but cannot achieve what I want to in it, is my time wasted? If I try to make friends and it fails, am I doomed to loneliness forever?

There is a more reasonable part of my mind which reminds me that no, nothing is ever that permanent, and the only constant in life is change. But I do fear wasting time, energy, and my youth on failed endeavours. One could make a case to argue that there is no such thing as a failed endeavour, but it breaks my heart to hear older people in my life talk about their regrets—of both doing the things they loved and not doing the things they loved. It’s a scary place to be, knowing that I might regret my choices either way. 

Feeling like my life is so chaotic and ‘not good enough’, as I’ve gathered, remains the quintessential early twenties experience. Knowing that everyone else feels, has felt, and will feel the same way is somewhat endearing, but it doesn’t detract from how harrowing it seems in the moment. Alas, there is no other option but forward.

I love my books, and I even love the attempt at putting myself out there to promote them. I am glad I tried, and that I’ll keep trying, because ultimately, I would love to be a full-time, published, great author. I’ve already got the ‘published’ part down, so I’m working on the full-time aspect…and the ‘great‘ bit.

Those things take time however, and lots of work. You’ve heard it all a million times before, how this day and age of instant gratification has changed our perceptions of just about everything, making us believe we can—and should—have everything in an instant. Even generative AI can now spit out novels, scripts, songs, and more in a few seconds with only a simple prompt. I am trying to remember that the time it takes is part of the process, in all the very best ways. Every painstaking second I took to align my book covers and edit the text again, or to re-film a video for the fifth time so I can post something to stay consistent—every bit of that is building myself, my character, my will, my story, and my dream. 

I still cringe a little inside to admit that this is all a dream of mine, funnily enough. I can’t say I’ve been encouraged to dream much, let alone share those dreams or even pursue them. But I’m reminded every day that to live differently you must do things differently. If that means feeling a little silly for a while, then so be it. After all:

“Embarrassment is the cost of entry. If you aren’t willing to look like a foolish beginner, you’ll never become a graceful master.”

~ Ed Latimore

I wish I could find this more inspiring, and choose to live life fully, boldly, and unapologetically, even if/when that is embarrassing. I wish my catastrophising was less brutal, and I wish I could make a damn decision. That’s the core of the problem I think. Overthinking leads to indecisiveness leads to inaction leads to stagnation. What a sad situation to find myself in—made worse by the fact that when I feel my best, I know I can be decisive and free, and I can make bold choices that have an incredible impact on my life. 

“Besides, nowadays, almost all capable people are terribly afraid of being ridiculous, and are miserable because of it.”

― Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

Some of the coolest people out there are just so weird, and they are celebrated for it. That’s awesome, and it’s exactly the kind of world I want to live in. So why do I struggle to give myself that kind of grace, to allow myself to look silly and ridiculous in pursuit of my own goals? Will I seriously let myself be miserable instead? It sounds so foolish when you put it like that. I must remind myself that life is a never-ending process of doing and being. Every accomplishment we achieve is only ever another minute on this continuous journey—big and small. I can start over, anytime, anywhere, anyway. I have before and I can always do so again. I must also remember that making no decision is so much worse than making none. 

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Back to the question I opened this chaotic digital admission with: if I were ‘discovered’ today, and my life catapulted into the spotlight, would I be happy with what people find? My answer is: I hope so. I hope I can enjoy the process, and look back at this time with such love and appreciation for the work I put in to succeed. I hope I can enjoy the process, and the work each day, rather than waiting for some far-off potential moment of success. I hope I remember that the alternative—of refusing to try and ultimately being miserable—is infinitely worse than trying something ridiculous. Most of all, I hope that it all works out even better than I could have ever imagined.