Selling my soul to the Internet

Lights, cameras, action.

It's been a long-time coming . . . my entire life, in fact.

• At four, I got my fix performing piano on stage and bowing to the applause.

• At twelve, I'd feel validated when my oh-so-innocently offensive YouTube videos got a hundred views.*

• At sixteen, I'd assert my fragile self-worth by working my butt off to get straight-As.

• At twenty-one, being on TV made me feel important.

• And now—oh good Lord the day has actually come—I'm selling my soul to the Internet.

As a first born, type-A, uses-too-many-hyphens-in-her-descriptions personality, I've always needed to be seen; to over-achieve (evidenced by new website with name in title ha ha). But being seen comes with its own challenges, and for as long as I can remember I've had a crippling love-hate relationship with vulnerability. As Brene Brown famously says in her book Daring Greatly:

“Courage starts with showing up and letting ourselves be seen . . . Because true belonging only happens when we present our authentic, imperfect selves to the world, our sense of belonging can never be greater than our level of self-acceptance.”

So there's being seen, and then there's being seen. There's being seen on stage, and then there's falling down on stage in front of a million people. There's filming a morning routine with good lighting and make-up, and then there's filming the morning-face-morning-breath truth. Both are vulnerable, both are being seen, but both are very, very different.

As empowering as Brene's words are to read (mic-drop, the words have p o w a h), they are incredibly difficult to practise. Not simply because it's hard to be vulnerable (although it definitely is), but because being vulnerable isn't as black and white as we might initially assume.

In each of the experiences I listed above, I was being seen and there were elements of vulnerability:

• At four, I would sometimes butcher Bach and have to start the piece again from the beginning with shaky hands.

• At twelve, I would dress up and act as different personalities—often making myself look stupid—just to try and make my viewers laugh.

• At sixteen, I was self-aware enough to openly share that my desperate need to achieve stemmed from a need for approval and acceptance.

• At twenty-one, I'd tell personal stories and share failures on camera for an audience of thousands.

• And now . . . ? Now, I'm sharing my art, my life and my thoughts with you on the Internet—stranger turned friend—in the hope that you might relate or find it helpful in some way.

And yet, despite these accounts of vulnerability, there is a lot that was—and still remains—hidden behind closed doors. Tears, inner-monologues, insecurities, fears. So how vulnerable should I be on the Internet? Where is the line between being interesting and over-sharing?

Recently, I was telling my future father-in-law about my plans for YouTube and selling my art online. As a master watchmaker and small business owner, He shared these words of wisdom with me (and I paraphrase because no, I did not have a note-book in hand scribbling down every word, like who do you think I am?):

You have to find your "why", what makes your product different from everyone else's. For us, it's being the first and only watch manufacturers in Australia. That's what gives us our purpose. What's yours? Once you find that, people will naturally want your product.

The words hit me like a tonne of bricks (in the best possible way . . . imagine being a 5 year old and the bricks are a million Lego sets). I went home and scribbled on a piece of paper all my "why's":

• To create colourful art that makes people happy;

• To empower and inspire people to be creative;

• To find beauty in the details;

• To bring Jesus into daily experiences;

• To help people live happier and healthier lives

• . . . the list went on.

As I wrestled with my inability to just choose one thing, I realised: I'm in this art-making, creative, Internet business not just to sell a product (in fact, that purpose is quite a way down my list). I'm here because I want to share who I am—and in doing so, share Jesus.

Ultimately, I believe there are two ways to be seen when it comes to a brand or business:

• The first is to figure out your "why"—what makes your product different from everyone else's? Take a mental dive, turn your juices into concentrate, drill down to your core purpose and create a mantra. Narrow down your product or purpose to just one thing. Through this powerful process, your brand or product learns to stand on its own two feet, separate from you.

• The second is to sell yourself. Call it lazy or uncreative, but the most obvious thing that makes you or your product different from everyone else is just that: it's you. You are the best at being you, period. But it's a trade-off. By taking this route, you choose to sell yourself. You have to be seen and be vulnerable, but in doing so, you have the freedom to create more than just one narrow product. Anything you make, do or share is unified because it's made by you.

While these categories are not mutually exclusive (a brand or product may evolve and change over time), at this point it's probably fairly obvious that I, contrary to the master watchmaker's advice, have opted for the second—not because I think he is wrong, by all means his advice is incredibly wise—but because I want Maryellen Creative to be more than just a product; a brand. I want it to be a testimony.

Maryellen Creative. Maryellen, Creative.

Yes, I am creative! The Creator has given me power to create. He's bestowed me with many talents—for which I will infinitely praise Him—and they have become my identity. And He has given you talents and creativity, too. What will you do with them?

So, to come full-circle and address the click-bait title of this piece, I will vulnerably and honestly admit that I exaggerated. I'm not really selling my soul to the Internet. My soul is sold-out to the One who created it, the One to whom I owe my every breath. But, because I am surrendered to Him and He's asked me to share Him through my talents (Matthew 25:14-30), I must create. And I must do so genuinely, meaningfully and to the best of my ability.

So while on the surface my new website, YouTube channel and art-making frenzy of late may seem like yet another dive into the ever-evading limelight of my childhood, this time it's different. I am no longer longing to be seen just to be validated. I'm not selling my soul to the audience, or to the Internet, any more. I have sold my soul to Jesus. He validates me, He empowers me, and He will reveal Himself through me and my attempts at vulnerably sharing my art, and myself, with you.

Until next time,

*This channel has since been deleted, so no, you won't find it online #sorrynotsorry (unless, of course, you want me to re-watch them in future YouTube videos, in which case, let me know in the comments below).