I've been creative my whole life.

Oh, you too? Nice.

I remember writing songs as far back as age five. The original soundtrack tune to a short story I wrote at that age went, "Flying tortoise/please come out and play/I will see you in my dreams."

My cousins and I would create elaborate original plays to put on for our parents, complete with costumes, props, songs and sometimes even physical stunts on a makeshift obstacle course.

Later, my friend and I entered an original song into a national magazine's song contest (we didn't win). I cofounded and co-led an a cappella group at my university as a first-year student, creating complex arrangements with up to 11 distinct voice parts. I produced music for multiple musician friends because I was minoring in music industry and thus I believed I could. I even commented on my favorite musician's blog (a few times) in a language that, at that time, I had only studied for four semesters. I also kept a blog in that same language on behalf of one of the bands I was producing, and updated it more frequently than this newsletter.

Remember what I shared with you about recording phone messages in one take last time? I also used to record videos of song covers with friends and share the first take online, no matter what.

Sometimes I look back on those days and think, had I no shame?

I did have shame back then, but not enough to let it stop me. My sense of play and wonder had not yet been trodden on by entering the corporate world and facing the trials and tribulations of adulthood (to put it somewhat lightly).

While I did not completely surrender my playful and creative nature in adulthood, holding several creative roles that allowed me to design memorable experiences for people and help them do and become their best (even if only for moment), I didn't end up becoming a professional musician. I started to feel like it was too frivolous a pursuit to spend much time and energy on, despite my passion for it.

While I don't regret how my life turned out, when I think about my younger self and the big dreams that version of me had, I think, that's a shame.

The true shame is the shame itself. It was shame that creeped in and made me feel embarrassed about my playful, creative nature. It made me feel like I couldn't be myself, and question if I even knew who "myself" was.

Exploring shame might feel a little awkward

Relearning to be playful and connect with who you really are is like retraining muscles you haven't used in a while. It will feel uncomfortable, scary, and definitely awkward.

I know no one wants to think about fall when it's only the beginning of August (I certainly don't), but since the back to school commercials are already upon us, I'll accept that it's okay to mention the month of October.

...or, Awktober.

Awktober is a 31-day email challenge with group support and accountability. If you feel shame and perfectionism around putting yourself out there, being seen, and connecting with others (even people you already know), you might want to give this experience a try.

If Awktober sounds familiar, it's because last year, I tried to launch Awktober in late September, which was too late. It was an awkward but valuable learning experience for me.

This year, Awktober's doors will open if the waitlist reaches capacity (a helpful approach I learned from Natalia Sanyal, who has launched new ideas this way). Learn more about gaining visibility in your own playful and authentic way by checking out the Awktober waitlist, and refer your friends for exciting surprises!

If awkward moments from ten years ago still keep you up at night like a scary story, spend this October with people who will celebrate you for everything you are.