Authenticity, Joy, and AI Cockatoos
Dear Friends,
If there was ever a phrase that represented the type of parent I wasn’t going to be, it’s “Disney On Ice.”
The mayhem. The merch. An arena of zillions of children. No thank you.
Pre-kid me would rather do absolutely anything else. No way am I going to take my child to that kind of thing.
Reader, for my daughter Nora’s birthday, I willingly and intentionally took her to Bluey’s Big Play at the Kennedy Center.
There was mayhem. There was merch: light-up, twirly pinwheels that put the Chattermax to shame. There were zillions of children in three levels of theater seating.
And I loved every minute of it.
I loved my daughter and her cousin in their fancy dresses purchased for the occasion, holding hands as they ran across the red carpet of the Kennedy Center. I loved the other children in their Bluey headbands clutching Bingo stuffies and Bob Bilby puppets. I loved the thing the puppeteers did with the flock of cockatoos, casting shadows across the whole space.
And when the lights went down, and Nora leaned over and whispered, “I LOVE THIS,” with a gleeful grin?
I loved that the most.
This week I was texting with a relative about holiday cards. Megan’s are always great, and my daughter loves seeing the pictures of her cousins. Last year, after the holidays were over, we even cut the card into a heart and kept it on our family bulletin board through Valentine’s Day.
“Send us yours if you’re doing one this year!” Megan texted.
“Hahaha, we aren’t,” I replied. “We never do. It’s one of the things I give myself permission to opt out of, like a live Christmas tree.”
“Whatever makes your holidays actually joyful and not a performance of joy!” she said.
A new barometer–what joy in your life is authentic, and what is performative?
“You’re cooking Thanksgiving for 10 people??” a friend from choir exclaimed last week.
“I actually like doing it,” I told her. “I don’t cook that much during the rest of the year, and I like making the old family recipes.”
I know many of my local friends outsourced the Thanksgiving cooking this year–Whole Foods, restaurants, etc. But for me, visiting three different grocery stores, overflowing my fridge with ingredients, and spending two days in the kitchen didn’t feel like an obligation. It felt like joy.
So did putting up my skinny fake Christmas tree, even though it’s almost 15 years old and sheds plastic needles like that’s its primary job.
It’s got glitter. It’s got felted rainbow ball garland. It’s got a bird on top. Joy!
Some might argue that it’s callous to indulge in all of this when there is so much suffering in the world. But just as there is joy vs. the performance of joy, there is also sorrow and the performance of sorrow. Rage, and the performance of rage. Awareness, and the performance of awareness.
And, for that matter, authenticity, and the performance of authenticity.
“Authentic” is Merriam-Webster’s word of the year for 2023, which both does and doesn’t surprise me. This was the year of AI. As a creative person, my head’s been all over the place when it comes to the robots. Are they coming for my writing job? Or is what I do more special than ever? Art has suddenly become infuriating–photos of the most incredible sculptures turn out not to be real. Well, they’re a real idea. But AI made the photo. So what counts, anymore?
And our public personas must be realer than ever. We want our friends, family, influencers, celebrities, and brands to be authentic, and when they’re not, that’s a problem.
I don’t really care what other people think about me, you might be saying. I’m not even on social media that much.
But is that indifference, or the performance of indifference? If you were really indifferent to what other people thought (and what people thought about what you thought), what would you wear to work today? What would you share online? How would you spend the holidays? What changes would you make about yourself or your life?
These questions may be an interesting exercise in discovering actual authenticity. Or you may, like me, end up realizing that sometimes frivolous stuff brings joy, ease, and levity. Being a nonconformist doesn’t always feel authentic. Sometimes it just feels like being a hater.
The pressure to be authentic is…let’s say it…unreal. “Pressure” and “authenticity” shouldn’t be in the same sentence. Authenticity should feel natural. Easy. But since it’s entered the public zeitgeist, it’s not.
If “being real” is sometimes code for “showing the imperfections,” or “being ultra-vulnerable,” or “pointing out the problematic,” is there room anymore for joy? Will anyone believe it if we express it?
Instead of being authentic to the world, I just want to be honest with myself.
To celebrate my birthday last month, I had thought about going out to a nice restaurant for dinner. But then I got an invite to a preschool parents’ night at the beer garden in my neighborhood. I was also planning my daughter’s birthday party for the day after, so I really needed the day to finish preparing.
“I know I’m supposed to want to do something really special for my birthday,” I told my husband, “but I really just want to make goody bags and go hang out with the preschool moms.”
Being honest with myself allowed me to cast aside a version of what a birthday is “supposed” to look like in favor of having the day I actually wanted to experience.
Perhaps what I’m really seeking is quiet authenticity. Not the production of it. Just showing up where I want to show up and not apologizing for being uncool. Just feeling joy even when it’s cheesy or basic, even when my former self Would Never.
I don’t really want to participate in the performance or the non-performance.
My life doesn’t look like the influencer who posts a beautifully styled holiday family photo (#mywholeworld). But it also doesn’t look like the #realtalk counter-influencer in her sweatsuit and mom-bun, preaching about how actually, parenting during the holidays is REALLY HARD.
Quiet authenticity is somewhere in between. It’s wearing the same sweater every day and not feeling bad about it. It’s genuinely looking forward to taking my child to campy kid stuff this season. It’s prioritizing ease. It’s noticing joy where I actually feel it, not where other people say it lives.
Joy, perhaps, is the most vulnerable, and therefore authentic, emotion of all. To let it in during dark times, while everyone questions you–while you question yourself–takes its own kind of bravery. To bypass irony, to love loudly and openly, to celebrate purely, these things aren’t easy in this world.
Joy to it, then, wherever you find it.
Take good care,
Dot
News & Updates
We’re here to talk (or not). Whether you need to verbally process what you’ve been through, vent in a safe space, make art to depict your experiences, or create just to create—we’re here.
Our team has immediate openings for daytime and evening sessions, ages 6 to adult:
Kristopher Forren, MA, ATR-P specializes in working with adults and older adults who are experiencing life transitions that bring feelings of depression, anxiety, or grief. Kristopher also works with LGBTQIA+ adults seeking to explore their identity and express their authentic self. Daytime and evening appointment times available.
Katie Gaynor, MA, ATR-P has openings available for new clients ages 6-adult looking for help processing grief, stress, anxiety and depression, trauma, or life transitions. Afternoon and evening appointment times available.
Adele Stuckey, LPC, ATR-BC has availability for new clients seeking therapy for couples work, LGBTQIA+ affirming therapy, perinatal mental health, anxiety, depression, or trauma. Daytime appointment times available.
Reach out today to schedule your free 15-minute consultation with one of our therapists.
Links We Like
Favorite art of the week. Cozy AND loud!
If joy this season isn’t your experience, this is a great read.
Loved this interview with Pooja Lakshmin on self care, especially her technique of “the pause” for setting boundaries.
The case for dressing up your life.
Does anyone feel like an actual adult?
A hard read, but an illuminating one about the complexities and subtleties of abuse. (CW: emotional abuse, verbal abuse).
Just beans.
Don’t look too close, it’s not authentic. I try to describe sitting in a theater with my daughter watching the shadows of bird puppets on the wall to an AI image generator:
Join Us on Instagram
