I really do enjoy creating video content for social media. I love applying makeup, dressing up, picking out outfits that make me feel powerful and beautiful, but most of all, I love using those videos to say something meaningful. A message. A reminder. A nudge.
I’ve always been drawn to everything that has to do with femininity. But growing up, that love felt more like a complicated relationship. I battled body dysmorphia and just... not feeling "enough", not feminine enough, not graceful enough, not pretty enough. And I know I’m not alone. Many teenage girls grow up carrying invisible insecurities around womanhood, never really sure where they picked them up from.
I used to wonder, what if I had an older sister? You know, someone to show me the ropes, give me “The Womanhood Guide 101,” tell me when to wax, how to dress for my body, how to walk into a room with my chin up and heart steady. I had a friend like that, someone with a big sister. I watched the way she moved with a sense of assuredness I craved. I used to admire that about her.
But I don't have a big sister.
Instead, I am one. To my younger sister. To my friends. To any woman who needed someone to whisper, “You’re doing okay. You’re going to be fine. You’re beautiful, even when you don’t feel like it.”
And weirdly, it became one of the most fulfilling things in my life.
If there was one thing I could do for the rest of my life, whether or not I got paid for it, it would be that. Guiding young women through the beautiful chaos of becoming. From career to beauty to self-confidence, finances, fashion, health, everything. I don’t know it all, but I shine brightest when I’m helping others figure it out, too.
That’s why I dedicate my social media platforms, Instagram, TikTok, all of it, to this cause. To show women that confidence isn’t something you “arrive” at; it’s something you build, brick by brick, in front of a mirror or behind a camera.
But let me be honest. I burn out easily.
Sometimes I’ll create consistently for three months straight, recording, editing, and posting with intention. Then suddenly, I just want to delete everything and disappear. I can’t even bring myself to film, let alone edit. I disappear into silence and start questioning everything. Again.
And I’ve sat with myself to understand what’s behind this cycle of burnout. Turns out, it’s layered.
First, my phone. Yes, my editing skills are great, and my content gets attention, but people keep sliding into my DMs saying, “You’re really good. If only you had a better phone...” They don’t mean it as shade. And while I try not to let it bother me, there is a difference. One camera takes effort, with the other, you just record, and everything looks good.
Then there’s filming equipment. I don’t even own a tripod right now. I stack books, boxes, perfume bottles, whatever works. And while that’s become part of the humble beginning story I’ll tell someday, it gets tiring. Exhausting.
Another thing? I’ve tried so hard to dissociate myself from influencer culture. I don’t want to be “an influencer.” (No shade intended, I respect their hard work). I don’t want to chase trends or look for the next viral audio. I just want to be someone who helps other women feel seen. That’s it. But social media makes it hard to stay in your lane when people are creating similar content to yours and are earning six figures from it. It messes with your head a little.
When my videos hit 5k views, I panic. Not celebrate, panic! Like, “What do you mean five thousand strangers have seen me on their screens?” That level of attention makes my chest tighten. And it’s wild because I have friends whose biggest dream is to go viral. But me? I don’t want to be famous. I don’t want to be known.
My dream is quiet success. You know those billionaires no one ever sees until Forbes puts them on a list? That’s my vibe.
I don't know exactly why I fear fame, but I know I don’t want it.
Still, it breaks my heart to think of deleting my work. These videos I’ve poured myself into, they carry my message. My purpose. My voice for women who need it. Sure, someone else could do it, but it wouldn’t be me. And if I disappear completely, a part of me would always feel unfulfilled.
So here’s the middle ground I’m working towards: Creating without conforming. Showing up without selling out.
I want to continue sharing valuable messages, but without the pressure to post three times a week or chase virality. I want to show up twice a week, say something that leaves women better than I found them, and quietly slip back into my cocoon. I want to contribute to the noise without getting lost in it.
Because while I love creating, I love my peace more.
So, I'm hoping I don’t have to choose between silence and purpose. I'm hoping I can live in both. That I can protect my serenity and still leave my mark.