The Significance of a Subscription

The Significance of a Subscription

        Recently, I have had quite a few people ask me, "Chloe, when are you going to start making videos again?" I often laugh and say, "Oh, I don't know. I just can't seem to find the time!" But the truth is, I never stopped making videos, I just stopped sharing them. 

        Every month, for the past year or so, I have paid $21.99 a month for the Adobe Creative Cloud. If you are not familiar with this subscription, it includes all of Adobe's state-of-the-art editing software including Photoshop, Lightroom, and Premiere. I purchased my subscription with the intent to make videos, and I was ecstatic! If you have been following my journey for a while, you probably know that I used to make YouTube videos. They were rudimentary, and I struggled with the technical elements of cinematography, but I had a passion. I could see in my head exactly what I wanted to capture, and I would imagine the feelings I wanted to evoke in the people watching my videos. From creating idea collages to writing up story boards, I was so excited to be able to create the videos I envisioned in my head with this new software. Makeup tutorials were where I started, but what I really want to do was share experiences and emotions. I wanted to share the things that made me feel. I wanted to do travel vlogs. 


       I have a love of being lost, of not knowing where I am going or where I am, and yet being perfectly content to just move in a given direction and see what I discover. While I was driving from San Francisco to Seattle last summer, there were many times where there was no internet or cell service, just the forest, the road, and myself. I did not know if I was going the right direction, except for every now and then when I passed a lonely road sign. It was this feeling that I cannot explain of simultaneously being completely lost and exactly where I was supposed to be. I wanted to capture that feeling and share it with everyone. I wanted to share the beauty of the world around me as I passed redwood after redwood towering over my tiny Prius C. So I filmed. I took pictures. I wrote poems. I tried desperately to hold on to this feeling of weightless wonder. And yet? I could not bring myself to share it with anyone. Why?

       Last March, I broke off an unhealthy, toxic relationship. I remember feeling emotionally drained, broken, and so excited to finally be free of this person that I had so quickly grown to resent. At least, I thought I was free. However, the damaging things that had been spoken over me in that relationship were not gone, and they played on repeat in my head. I could no longer share my videos. I could no longer share my writing. I remember distinctly the times that he told me that my videos were "shitty." It hurt, a lot. I knew that my videos were not professional quality. I knew that they had flaws. But they mattered to me. They were my form of self expression. They were a time where I was vulnerable. And again, this time with my writing, my emotions were brushed off and made meaningless. I felt irrational. I felt stupid. I told myself that I knew that my videos were bad, I knew that my writing was bad, I had no reason to be hurt. I was overreacting. I came to realize later that my feelings were continually minimized and ignored in that relationship but the damage was still done. My subconscious still echoed those words in my head. I could no longer share my art because I could not bring myself to be in a position of vulnerability or of openness. 

And so, I continue to pay $21.99 a month to have this subscription, to create videos, and then delete them because in my head they will never be good enough. It represents everything I am too afraid to do, and to share, and to be. To create is to be vulnerable. When you pour your heart into a piece of art, whether it be a drawing or a poem, or a video, you embed within it a piece of yourself. When you share that creation with someone else, you share that tiny piece with them. For me, creating videos is so much more than a hobby or a past time, it's a way of sharing a piece of myself. A feeling. A perspective. A dream. One day, maybe one day soon, I will share my art again. But this small step of sharing my fears with you, helps me to heal. Here I am, writing in vulnerability and shedding tears, sharing my art with you. This is a victory. This is me. And each new day, I will rise again and continue upon the path that the Lord has set out for me. This passion and love I have for cinematography and art was not given to me to squirrel away and keep to myself. Art is for sharing. Art is for loving. Art is for healing. This is not the end of my story, but rather the beginning. 

thank you for your support. 
xoxo, 
Chloe Grace 

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