Ep. 1: What if she isn't lost?

What if you didn't lose the fun, playful version of yourself? What if you actually just got really good at editing her out? In this first episode, we explore the difference between something being lost vs. being tucked away, and make a case for why the weird, creative, slightly-too-much version of you might have been here all along. Plus: a five-minute challenge that might just crack something open.

www.annmarieboyle.com

Music from Uppbeat (https://uppbeat.io/t/soundroll/to-the-top), License code BC9SEN3G6PMABOA

Transcript

Annmarie 0:00

I've had the trailer up for a few weeks now and I've been trying, really trying to record this first full episode, but every time I hit stop record, something didn't feel right. At first, I thought, okay, I'm overthinking this. Which is fair. I don't just overthink things. I commit my whole self to doing it. Like if overthinking were an Olympic sport, I'd already have multiple sponsorship deals. But this felt different. It wasn't just the overthinking, it was something underneath it, something that felt slightly off. Like the words I'd chosen to describe this podcast weren't wrong, but they weren't complete. Or completely honest. I realized I was trying to sound like a version of myself who has her life together in a color coded spreadsheet. And listen, no shade to her. She's doing amazing. She's just not the full version of me. And thus my description of this show, not the full version either. So I sat with that for a while and what I realized was this: yes, there are many, many of us that have lost the fun, creative versions of ourselves along the way, but there are others like me, I realized, who didn't so much lose that version of ourselves, but rather we tucked her away. Intentionally. Under responsibility, under being useful, under being someone everyone could count on. And also if you're anything like me, because that true version of yourself, well, she's a little weird, not bad, weird, not needs to be studied in a lab weird. But talks to herself in accents while making coffee weird, or gets overly excited about office supplies weird or rearranges a room for fun, and then acts like nothing happened weird. And somewhere along the way I got the message--sometimes subtle, sometimes not--that maybe that version of me was a little too much or a little too specific, or just not the one you lead with when you're trying to be taken seriously. So I didn't lose her. I edited her. And realizing that made me pause for a second . Because if this podcast is about play and creativity and fun, am I allowed to talk about this if I've been quietly sidelining the most qualified parts of me? But then something else clicked. Thankfully, this doesn't have to be an either /or situation. I can choose the both /and option because the truth is that weird part of me, that part of me that maybe is a little too much, she's been showing up anyway in the characters I've written who say things I wish I had the nerve to say out loud. Or in the way kids have always picked me out of a room of adult and asked me to play, which honestly feels like a very special, specific endorsement because we all know kids do not waste time on people who are boring. Or in the things I've made things with firefly paperclips, velvet ribbons, and polka dot pens. Like I was building tiny shrines to delight and hoping people would just get it without me having to explain it, or mostly in the way my humor slips out the second I stopped trying to sound like a responsible adult. So really, she's been here the whole time, not lost, not gone. Just waiting for me to stop acting like she needs her permission slip. And that's what I want this podcast to feel like. A place where I don't edit her out. Where you don't edit yourself either. Where we invite a little wackiness to sit at the table and don't rush to quiet it down. And if you're here, I have a feeling you might know exactly what I mean because maybe you didn't lose her either. Maybe you just got really good at presenting a more socially acceptable version. Welcome to. I Used To Be Fun, the podcast about remembering who you were before life got so serious. I'm Anne-Marie Boyle, author, creativity Instigator and Recovering Overachiever. And each week we explore how reconnecting to creativity and play helps us feel more alive, inspired, and like ourselves again. So set down the to-do list. Grab a cup of coffee and let's go find some fun. So as you might imagine, I didn't expect to start there, but here we are. Hi, I'm Annmarie and I'm really glad you're here. Today's episode is just you and me, and these solo episodes are going to show up in between my play dates, which are the conversations I'm gonna have with other women. I'm going to think of them, and I hope you do too, as little check-ins. A few minutes for us to sit together and think out loud about the stuff that actually matters. And I want to stay with where I started the episode today for just a minute, because I don't think I'm the only one who's been missing something that's been right there in front of me the whole time. Here's what I mean. About 20 years ago, I owned an art materials store, and I had split it right down the middle. On one side was greeting cards and fun and funky gifts, and on the other side, the more traditional art supplies, the paper, paint, brushes, canvases. And people would often come in and shop the gift side and never cross that invisible line into the art supplies. Oh. They'd glance over sometimes lingering for a minute or two, and then they'd always say something like, Hmm, I wish I was creative. Or, I don't have an artistic bone in my body. Like there was a gate or a test or someone in the back handing out official certificates saying, you're creative enough now. And every time it made me sad. Because I could so clearly see that it wasn't true, those people just had a very narrow definition of what artistic or creative meant. And for a long time, I didn't say anything until one day a college student came up to the counter. She told me her dad was an artist, a painter, and she needed help finding him a birthday gift and then almost casually threw in, "But I'm not creative or artistic at all." And as I started to come around the corner, I stopped because her makeup was beautiful. Not overdone, not trendy. Just intentional. So I asked her kind of out of the blue, do you enjoy putting your makeup on? And she blinked at me like I'd taken a hard left turn and said, "Yes." And I responded, then you're an artist. And she just stared at me. So I motioned to her face and said, you used brushes, you picked out colors, you made choices. You and your dad are both painters. You just have a very different kind of canvas. And I will never forget her face because after she paused for a moment, this huge smile spread across it. Like something had just clicked, like she'd just been handed back a part of herself she didn't realize she'd sat down even at her young age. I think about that moment a lot because she was creative. She just didn't count it. And I think a lot of us are doing the exact same thing. We're being creative all day long. We're playing in small, quiet ways, but we're not counting any of it. So what if we started there? Not by becoming more creative, but by noticing where we already are creative. Maybe it's the way you doodle when you're on hold. Or the way you tweaked that recipe just to see what happened. Or that completely ridiculous voice you use when you talk to your dog. And if you have a dog, you know exactly the voice I mean. All of that counts. And if you're listening and thinking, okay, but I genuinely don't do any of that right now, that's okay. Then let's make it really simple. I want you to find five minutes today. And before you protest that you don't have five extra minutes in your day, I'm going to fight you on that because we both know that last doom scrolling you did, took you at least seven minutes. So find those five minutes. And don't require any outcomes, any productivity, and no reason whatever you're doing has to be good. Just play. Maybe you stack sugar packets into a tiny tower at your favorite coffee shop. Or make up a ridiculous song in the shower. Or draw something badly and don't apologize for it. No one is grading you. This is not middle school art class. Thank heavens. And yeah, you might feel a little silly. Good. Silly is wildly underrated and you might feel a little guilt or a little resistance too. And that's okay. That's just the part of you that's internalized all the shoulds and the supposed tos. But do it anyway because on the other side of those five minutes, something might shift or break open. Something that's just been waiting for a little space, for a little daylight to get in. And if you're thinking, okay, I want to do this, Annmarie, but I don't know where to start. Well, I have some good news. I made something for you to solve just that problem. It's called the Wonder Project. It's a free four week email series designed to help you reconnect with creativity and play in really small, gentle ways. Each week you'll get a printable permission slip. Yep. Just like the old school ones, you forged your mom's signature on a quick, Just for Fun activity card and a few simple journal pages to help you notice the wonder and fun that's already in your life. You can find it all at www.annmarieboyle.com / the Wonder Project. I'll link it in the show notes too. And one last thing before we wrap up today. If this episode made you think of someone, that friend who used to feel a little lighter, a little more like herself, then send this to her, text it, share it, tell her it made you think of her. And if you want to stick around, and I hope you do, make sure to follow the show. So the next episode lands right in your feed because honestly, less time tracking down a podcast means more time for fun. Thanks for being here . Now go play.