I’m 25. I started my social media influencing journey—or, if I’m being honest, my “wannabe career”—at 20. Back then, I built it around spirituality and healing from chronic conditions. It was my authentic mission. But somewhere along the way, things shifted. I started merging my message with weight loss content because I thought that’s what people wanted. After all, isn’t that what everyone is obsessed with?
The funny thing? I’ve never had the kind of body that people look at and say, “I want to do what she’s doing to lose weight.” But here I am, sharing my story and journey anyway.
For a long time, I strived to attain a body that I thought others would admire. The kind of body that would make me lovable, worthy, and valuable. But here’s the truth: the body I was chasing was never meant for me. Those desires weren’t achievable without force and unhealthy actions, and it took me a while to realize that.
As I began my journey into weight loss content, I started sharing about GLP-1 meds, a weight loss treatment I was initially skeptical of. I’d heard about them from a friend I trusted, and despite my hesitation, I followed my gut instinct and decided to try them. At first, it felt right. I began posting about my experience, and to my surprise, my TikTok following started growing fast. People were eating it up.
But here’s the thing: When I posted about spiritual topics, the views would plummet. Spirituality wasn’t what people wanted to hear. They were hungry for weight loss tips, and I could feel the pressure. So, I kept posting what I thought would get me attention. I kept feeding the algorithm. People loved it. But I hated it. I hated every post that didn’t come from my heart.
I hated it so much because deep down, I was afraid. Afraid of being seen as a failure. Afraid of what people would think if I shared something other than the content that was gaining traction. And, honestly, I was terrified of stepping into the unknown. I was afraid of being different, of standing out, of being vulnerable in front of an audience that seemed to care more about my weight loss than my soul’s journey.
Eventually, I hit a wall. I was so caught up in the pressure to be “liked” that I lost sight of who I was and why I started this journey in the first place. The GLP-1 meds, which had once seemed like a helpful tool, became my crutch. They were no longer a supplement for my health; they became the only thing holding my life together. I stopped caring about what I was putting in my body, what I was doing with my time, or how I felt. All I cared about was the weight loss.
And the weight kept coming off, but so did my joy. It was a painful time, and I felt stuck, frozen in fear.
But in that stillness, I found something incredible: I met my inner child. The part of me I’d long suppressed. She was afraid. Afraid of judgment. Afraid of not being enough. Afraid of being too “different” and not fitting in. She had always been there, but I’d buried her beneath layers of insecurity and doubt.
I’ve struggled with depression and anxiety for most of my life. It wasn’t until I was young that I discovered something that saved me from the darkness: spirituality. I found safety in the unseen world, and the more I connected with it, the more I felt supported, loved, and grounded. Meditation was my sanctuary, and in those deep trance-like states, I felt lighter. More whole. I learned how to heal myself through these practices, and for a while, it was all I needed.
But as I got older and entered the world of social media, the fear of judgment crept back in. I started analyzing every post, trying to shape myself into someone that others would like. I stopped sharing my true spiritual path because I was afraid of looking “crazy” or “weird.”
And so, the depression sank deeper.
For over a year and a half, I let fear guide my decisions. I let it control my actions, my content, my self-worth. It was a dark, suffocating place. And looking back now, I realize how much time I lost to that fear. Time that I can never get back.
Today, I’m finally learning to say “no” to fear. To surrender to my soul’s calling, no matter how unpopular it might be. I’m learning to embrace my inner child and to fight for her. I’m learning to be strong enough to stand up for myself, to defend my heart, and to trust in my intuition.
I’m 25, and I still have so much to learn. But I’m not afraid to take the first step. I’m done with suppressing myself for the sake of likes and followers. I want to share what feels authentic, even if it doesn’t get the most views or the most praise. My journey is about healing, about being true to who I am, and about building something that reflects my soul, not the expectations of others.
As for social media, I’ve decided that it’s time to say “fuck off” to anyone who feels the need to judge my page. This is my space, and if you’re here to criticize or bring negativity, there’s no room for you. If you want to support me, then welcome. If not, I’ll politely ask you to exit.
I’m not here to please anyone anymore. I’m here to be real. To share the mess, the growth, the triumphs, and the setbacks. And I’m going to do it on my own terms.
I’m learning that healing is not a linear path. There’s no finish line. But today, I stand with my inner child, and we’re both learning how to fight for a life that feels truly ours. I’m done hiding. Done pretending to be something I’m not.
So, here I am—vulnerable, imperfect, and still on this journey of becoming. And if you’re reading this, I hope you’ll walk beside me, wherever you are on your own path. We don’t have to have it all figured out, but together, we can start fresh every single day.
Thank you for being here. You are loved. You are enough. And together, we’ll keep growing.
