Both Sides of the Same Coin

An update on how I've been the past few weeks...

There’s a duality of artistry that goes often unmentioned— likely for the reason of keeping up the image of a “successful artist.” If I let it show that I’m struggling, working two jobs, barely making ends meet, living under my parents’ roof, AND trying to build a career in an industry that is notorious for its ruthlessness & lack of financial stability, then I won’t be taken seriously. All people will see are the ways I don’t measure up to all that I want to be— the way that I often see myself. 

There is a very harsh reality that comes with being an artist, which is that there is a certain degree of living a double life— one where you can play, create, dream, and make literal magic; and another where you clock into your “real job,” get your paycheck, and try to convince yourself that it might not always be this way. The dichotomy of these two worlds I’ve been living in has been especially daunting the past few weeks. I’ve found myself, at the restaurant I work at, bussing tables, taking orders, and entertaining customers thinking, “god, this can’t be it, can it?” Then going home (or rather, my parent’s home) to piles of unfolded laundry, dirty sheets, and a to-do list I made two weeks ago and never got to. I’ve struggled to believe that I’ll achieve anything beyond this life I’ve found myself in. I go onto social media & try to not feel like a fraud, posting videos of me lip synching to my songs, photos with captions saying that I’ll never give up, etc. etc. I sit behind the screen afraid that this is where I will always be.

My depression changes phases like the moon, waning and waxing through each unrelenting season. I find myself at times feeling like a ball of energy, ready to burst wide open at any moment— Inspired, grateful, glowing, and sparkling. Then I find myself with limbs that feel too heavy to carry, dull and carless, split wide open, and feeling numbness and apathy. All the while, feeling ashamed and stupid for these feelings, knowing how lucky and privileged I have been in my own life— to even have a full stomach and a pillow to lay my head on. I’ve felt these wanes and waxes for most of my life, and yet they catch me off guard to this day.

Last week, my wonderful creative director for my entire project, Valheria Rocha, suggested I make the drive from Chattanooga, TN to Atlanta, GA to stay the night with her, plan future projects, create visuals for upcoming releases, and just generally dream together. Last night I sat on her bed as she told me how she’s felt my energy dipping, how my once vibrant colorful world has dimmed, and how we need to find something to do about it. 

“If someone told little Kimi that she couldn’t do it, what do you think she’d say?”

I crossed my arms, channeling a once 13 year old hard ass Kimi Carter and replied, “F*ck you, watch me.” 

“That’s the energy.”

We sat and for the first time in weeks, I verbalized to someone the pressure of perception I’ve felt: from strangers on the internet, from ex friends, from people in my hometown, from everyone. I verbalized how I want to be brutally honest about life with my audience, but that I want to be hopeful in it. 

The truth that I keep finding is this; we are all figuring this shit out for the very first time. Not a single person has their shit together, some people are just really good at looking like they do. We are all dealing with our own unique dumpster fires (I’m picturing my dumpster covered in glitter & gold stars, but regardless, still very much on fire). I can take a breath knowing that there’s no pressure for me to perform— I can simply show up as Kimi and delight in that being enough. 

Whew anyway… I’m going to write up another substack recapping my NYC trip, which will guaranteed be a lot less depressing than this one lol

Thanks for sticking with me

xx

Kimi