My Experiment With Visibility

Growing up, the most central voice in my life was all about being humble, doing good work, but not being seen. For most of my life, I lived under the radar. As a political activist, I stayed in the back rooms of change. As an entrepreneur, I occasionally had to represent the company. But I always battled a bit with impostor syndrome. I just did my best. As a vulnerable storyteller in my 60s, I found my true voice. Telling the lessons of my story, in an often deeply vulnerable way, I didn't feel a fraud; I finally felt whole.

But in the last year, it has been challenging for me stepping into greater visibility. I wanted to feel like my message mattered. I wanted to help others feel less alone. I wanted others to know that they belong. That beneath the facade of apparently “successful” people, lies their own journey of pain, anguish, humiliation, defeat, and getting up again, time and time again, in order to live another day in their respective calling, whether it be as an entrepreneur, a speaker, or a leader.

This last year, I was trying to fit into the mould of creating a brand. I was trying to meet the needs of my team and build a platform for courageous conversations. I was trying to be a role model for older women, that it is never too late to change your life. I had learned so many lessons along my long and tortured road to freedom - a health journey that became a deeply spiritual journey; a journey far beyond bodies and weights. That is why we decided to call our personal development company, Soul Voice Journeys.

But what I have found is that my experimentation with visibility has come at great cost. I feel as if it has come to teach me a deeper lesson. A lesson about how this world of visibility and constant likes and affirmations can be a hollow ground for those who still battle with the wounds of “not good enoughness”.

After this Easter period of deep reflection, I have chosen to retreat into a period of thought leadership and writing, focusing on my mental health journey. Being active and in quiet reflection creates a gentle way forward. I am trying to create a road map of learning as I navigate this complex life in my 60s. The visibility this past year for me has been excruciating – being too exposed.

It took me back to a period in my life when I was visible in deep shame for the errors of judgment I had made. Today, I want to say to young people grappling with comparison and visibility, don't be misled by the glossy facade you often see on social media. We are all fighting our own private battles. We are all so deeply human.

When I was at school, I was best friends for quite some time with the prettiest girl in the school. She was on the cover of magazines at the age of 16. A most unusual phenomenon for a young girl her age. She had an arresting ethereal beauty. At the time, we all thought this beautiful young woman had it made. We envied her grace and mesmerising presence. I remember hanging back like a caterpillar at the entrance to the boys' school while boys flocked to see her, drawn to her energy. She was a kind and beautiful person inside and out. We all thought, imagine being so slim and beautiful. In our eyes, charismatic and persuasive.

But what we didn't know at the time, was that she was battling anorexia. As a young model, thrust into the limelight, the attention became terrifying. After being on the cover of a few magazines, she stopped modelling and retreated from social life. To this day, now in her 60s, she remains a dear friend of mine. She refused to be on any form of social media whatsoever since that fateful period, as a teenager, she didn't want to be seen, judged or assessed, it was such a painful journey for her. She buried it as a small part of her past and has gone on to do deep and profound work in her field, often working in impoverished areas where she makes a difference.

So I walk a journey forward, trusting that my voice can be used in quiet, gentle ways. That I might find my true soft voice in safe, unseen spaces. As I step into my new journey in my constant becoming. As I grow my butterfly wings in the silence of resting reflection and the meditation of a deeper meaning in this journey of the soul.