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Content warning: puke 🙃
My angels!!! In a tragic turn of events I have gotten incredibly sick. I was feeling a bit ✨unique✨ from the moment I woke up, but held it together until Rubes and I got a taxi to our new villa, and the driver dropped us about a 5 minute walk away (picture us dragging our heavy suitcases over cobblestones/ ruralish roads with the sun BEATING down on us.) When we got to the lobby of our new spot I just COULDN’T HOLD IT IN AND I VOMITED THROUGH MY HANDS ONTO THE FLOOR, AND THEN DID IT AGAIN!!! It was MORTIFYING and I ran to the toilet, before coming out to Rubes who was PISSING herself and to the two men helping us who I apologised PROFUSELY TO. Long story short, we spent a few hours in the new villa where the vomiting continued, and then Rubes and I made the call to re-book our old hotel because we knew the staff and it felt really safe (also close to chemists and supermarkets.) We got into a taxi and I distracted myself by singing along to Sean Kingston’s ‘Beautiful Girls’ and ‘Ice Ice Baby’ before we returned home and guess what I did? VOMITED IN THE LOBBY AGAIN (but this time in the lobby toilets.)
I’m currently writing to you in a brief race-against-time between spews to tell you that I love you, and if you don’t hear from me for a few days… that’s why.
  • Bel Chimes In: On overcoming Imposter Syndrome
  • I NEED you to listen to this podcast we made with Matt aka Alright, Hey and his ‘Momager’ Kirsty
  • All the things I was going to write about before I got incredibly sick
Bel Chimes In: On overcoming Imposter Syndrome
This section is written by my crush, the refreshing-as-a-house-chardonnay-on-a-steamy-day, Bel Hawkins. You should check out more of her beautiful words here.  
Mōrena besties,
Coming to you live from the soft sofa in my treehouse here in Tāmaki Makaurau (Auckland, NZ) while Luce and Rubes are off on tour living their Bali dreams. I hope you don’t mind me taking up more space than usual but also… it’s Thursday, and by this time of the week, I’m always looking for something to muse on or dream about that makes me feel anything other than being a WOW (worn-out woman). PLUS - we gotta let the gals enjoy their Indonesian getaway, right??
Pic of aforementioned soft sofa but mostly these cute daisies from my neighbourhood.
Pic of aforementioned soft sofa but mostly these cute daisies from my neighbourhood.
This week I wanted to talk to you about two things (stay with me) in relation to each other. It’s because recently, I caught up with a friend who had moved back from New York, and he referenced a time when we caught up over there — he’d just gone out as a freelancer, and I was in my full freelancer/nomad/bird flight, and we ended up talking at length about the perils of Imposter Syndrome and how the hell to possibly get over it. Fast forward now (idk… 4 years later?), and he told me that this conversation had a really profound effect on how he felt about his work. What is it that we say here? Validation keeps the universe turning .
On overcoming Imposter Syndrome
Ugh, where do I start on this one?! Other than it’s something I’m SUPER passionate about, and would love a flow-on effect of my time in this world to be helping people feel less of it.
Firstly, have you ever had it??? It’s basically a term used to describe fear or anxiety because you don’t feel like you deserve your achievements or are good enough to uphold them/who you think people think you are. It happens a lot at work, but I guess it could show up almost anywhere - in friendships, hobbies, families. Places where you feel you have to perform or live up to an expectation of how/who you’re meant to be.
BUT I’ve found that the more people I’ve spoken to about this strange bad feeling (from high up, amazing comets you look up to and wish you were like, to others starting out in their careers also of equal value) it manifests in almost everyone at some stage in their lives.
As soon as I figured this out, I decided to live life (I guess, especially as a writer but as a gal in the world, too) guided by the idea that we’re all just imperfect specs of dust moving through the world, trying to feel important and useful and worthy and good.
Luce and I wrote earlier this year about how we LOVE being underestimated because it feels like a secret power. We spoke about how we both look super young for our age (literally, the other day my doctor was absolutely shocked when he realised my birthdate), love to dress cute, and a weird flow-on effect of all of this is that often people think we’re naive and are still earning the right to be in the room, let alone speak in it.
Small rainbow from my weekend to be cute and also feel like a metaphor for phoenixing out of Imposter Syndrome
Small rainbow from my weekend to be cute and also feel like a metaphor for phoenixing out of Imposter Syndrome
How we overcome that hard feeling
OK, so the more moons I’m alive to see, the more I’ve come to know that the life experience I’ve accumulated over the years (not to turn this into an autobiography or self-indulgent life dump - Ergh, don’t you HATE when people do that and never ask you questions in a conversation…. Another Chime…) are my own magic to tap into — something no one else can quite have and therefore I’m just as good to be there as anyone else.
In moments when Imposter Syndrome really rears its head, remember your worth, that someone’s believed in you to get this far (as well as you!), and that at the end of that feeling, everyone around you also has to take their imperfect selves home, put on a soft pant, make dinner, answer their missed messages, feel bad about not finishing something and go to sleep just like you.
And if there are things you feel really insecure about, instead of seeing them as a threat, maybe you could see them as an opportunity to get good at something. Or interrogating why. Like… of course, I’m not a perfect writer, and it’s a bad vibe to get in my head that I’m not smart or good because I’m not Zadie Smith talking eloquently about ideas. But maybe that sensation comes from wanting to be good, or better — and that’s the sign to keep going. You know what I mean? 
I hope this all feels empowering and comes to you in a moment you really need it! But mostly, thanks for getting this far down the page —I know no one has attention for much anymore (omg myself included), so congrats for making it. 
Cool K, love you, bye for now! Thanks for your cute responses as always. See you next week! xo
You need to listen to this podcast episode we did!!
Now… I’m SO sure that a bunch of you know of Matt Hey (also known as Alright, Hey!) but I’m not sure if you all know his story - in fact, he’s not told it before so you HAVE to come and listen to this ep where he tells it. Basically, we got Matt and Kirsty Wilson - Lead, Creator and Public Figure Partnerships for Meta (his ‘Momager’) to come on a pod with us and give us the inside scoop on the creator industry.
Matt’s story is FASCINATING! He’s been in the industry for about 7 years and he started on Youtube. He was a Youtuber until he realised that any videos where he talked about or hashtagged things to do with being gay or mentioned the LGBTQ+ community he realised that Youtube took the option away to monetise his videos. He took this to Twitter where big names like Tyler Oakley and Miranda Sings stood with him, a petition was started, and Youtube released a statement saying that they got it wrong. THEN though, when he tried to get back on Youtube and continue making a living he realised that his views had ✨for some strange reason✨ dipped massively. He still doesn’t know the full story about what went down, but he ended up having to pivot to Instagram and taught us some damn good lessons about how volatile the industry can be when you don’t ‘own your audience.’
It’s a fascinating (and chaotic) listen - you’ll hear the doof doof doof of the beach club music start, and a BeReal notification go off throughout, but that’s just SYSCA for you isn’t it!!
Inside Instagram's Creator Machine with 'Alright, Hey!' - Culture Vulture | Podcast on Spotify
All the things I was going to write about before I got incredibly sick
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