Content creation wouldn't feel like a chore if you stopped treating yourself like a brand

Building a personal brand is draining you because you forgot about the personal part

I recently read an article called The Contemplations of Building a Personal Brand While Craving a Digital Detox, and it perfectly articulated a tension I experienced at several points throughout my content creation journey — the push and pull between wanting to build something that requires you to be visible and desperately wanting to just exist without performing for anyone.

In this article, I'll share what happened, the inner work that changed everything, and the six perspectives that helped me fall in love with creating again (after burning myself out with the performance).

I made my content creation debut through blogging back in 2016/2017 as a college student. I was mostly myself, though I was still trying to conform to what I thought would make my content take off. I wanted to write about self-improvement and whatever random thoughts were on my mind, so that’s exactly what I did.

Then one day, a post I wrote about college tips went viral on Pinterest, bringing in over 100,000 views and allowing me to monetize my blog with ads.

In reviewing my analytics, I saw that none of my self-improvement content was getting any traction from that traffic, so I adjusted. I removed them for SEO purposes and only posted college content. I learned how to monetize with ads and affiliate links, hired a ghost writer, and created a whole blogging business that made up to 5-figures per month…

And I abandoned self-improvement.

It was what I actually wanted to talk about, but I stopped writing about it because it didn’t get enough traction.

I tried sliding in some self-improvement posts many times because I thought at least a few thousand people would see them, considering I was getting 250,000+ monthly views on my blog. But they got no traction.

Because I consistently created only what my audience rewarded, I trained them to associate me with that niche. But I never wanted to be boxed into a niche like that — especially one that was tied to a temporary season of my life. I let my analytics pull my content in a direction I didn’t actually want to go, simply because that was what my audience rewarded.

Eventually, I started feeling stuck. Trapped, even.

So after I graduated, I sold the blog. A few months later, I started a podcast to talk about self-improvement, and I felt that spark ignite again. I was finally talking about what I wanted to talk about, and I wasn’t trapped in a niche I had outgrown or no longer cared about.

But it wasn’t long before that same old pattern reared its head again.

One of my videos went viral on YouTube (100K+ views), and so did the one after it. Both were videos where I gave tips to improve your life.

So guess what I did?

I ran myself into the ground trying to recreate that video over and over again. I took on this pressure to help people improve their lives and give advice — to be valuable, where said value was measured by how much advice I could produce.

And I started getting exhausted. Because that wasn’t the type of content I wanted to create. I like to yap. I just wanted to talk about life and my experiences on my journey of becoming the best version of myself, and I wanted to feel more like I had peers versus people relying on me to help them fix their lives. I wanted to have casual conversations, not therapy sessions or personal development bootcamps.

I tried to yap and go back to the type of content I loved making, but my analytics played that same record again — that type of content performs better than the type you like to make… so do more of it.

I did more of it until I burned out because I started resenting content creation. It felt like I wasn’t being rewarded for the amount of effort I was putting in, and I was struggling to build the right audience because what took off wasn’t what I wanted to create consistently. And when those people came into my world and subscribed, they expected more of that.

The turning point

While I wrestled with feeling burnt out from podcasting, I did two things that changed my life and the nature of my content.

First, I went back to my first love — writing. Writing always felt easier to pour out my thoughts than recording myself speaking. The production of a podcast or video content tends to get in the way of what I want to say sometimes — checking for lighting, making sure my mic isn’t muted, assessing background noise, etc. It takes away from the flow of things.

So I turned to Substack. I positioned my Substack as a diary because it perfectly encapsulates how I create — as if I’m writing in my diary. I started writing about the woes of a high achiever and just sharing some of the things I was growing through. And it grew faster than my podcast and other platforms because of the second thing I did — the inner work.

In the Unravelling Series, I shared the BTS of what I went through last year that cracked everything open. I learned that my entire identity had been built around performing — not just in my career but in every aspect of my life. I was externally validated to my core, and I didn't even know it.

That’s why every time something performed well, I abandoned what I actually wanted to create and chased that instead. That’s why my sense of self was so tangled up in whether my content was doing well — because I needed it to. My worth was riding on it. I had to be impressive. I had to be winning. I had to be growing.

Because without that, who was I?

The identity work looked like untangling my sense of self from all of that. It looked like no longer needing to have something impressive going for me to feel safe enough to show up. It looked like being willing to be seen at whatever stage I was in, instead of hiding until I had something worth showing. It looked like creating from who I actually am rather than who I thought my audience needed me to be.

And when I finally did that, I stopped performing in my content, and I started just… making it. Without the anxiety, shapeshifting, or needing it to validate me.

Because who I am is enough.

Btw, this is exactly what I coach my clients through here.

I don’t have to do 100 tricks, give you 45 tips, or use 13 different hooks to make you stay. I don’t have to share things I don’t want to, so people think I’m relatable. I don’t have to bend over backwards or overextend myself to earn every like, comment or dollar.

Additionally, here are six perspectives I adopted that also greatly helped:

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Perspectives you must adopt if you want to create authentically

Your authenticity is likely being suppressed by all the rules embedded in your subconscious that you’ve accepted as fact and harshly judge yourself by. And by those standards, you either don’t want to create content or you feel like you’re failing…

But why did you accept that as the only way?…

1. Stop internalizing the pressure to show up in a way you don’t want to and judging yourself by that standard.

If you don’t want to post vlogs, don’t post them. If you don’t want to post OOTDs, don’t post them. If you don’t want to talk about your private, intimate moments, don’t talk about them. If you don’t want to post 30x per day, don’t do it.

Some time ago, I came across a TikTok of Alix Earle admitting that she was having a hard time post-breakup with her ex. Personally, I don’t miss anyone I’ve ever dated, but even if I did, I’d rather chew a denim jacket than ever publicly admit that online. However, her followers love her transparency, and she’s comfortable being that vulnerable online.

Is that any of my business? No. Will I take that as a sign to do the same? No. I’ve never talked about men and dating online in the decade I’ve been creating content, and I don’t intend to. But I respect that there is a lane for that, and I actually admire her purely because her authenticity is undeniable.

The biggest mistake I see people making (myself included at one point) is looking at what works for others and what’s rewarded on social media and deciding that that’s the standard you have to adhere to if you’re going to be successful.

It’s not. But if you act like it is, then it might as well be.

If you believe you have to create content a certain way to be successful, you’ll either A) deeply resent creating and avoid it because it feels like it requires something you don’t have or don’t want to give, even though you feel called to it; B) force yourself to create in a way that exhausts you until you burn out; or C) create in the way you actually want to, but constantly feel like you’re failing because you’re not doing the things you “must” do to be successful.

In either case, it leaves you feeling restless, and you judge yourself based on rules that don’t even have to apply to you.

2. Not everyone will like you.

And stop trying to make them. This is arguably a trait that stems from people-pleasing in real life, showing up in how you approach content creation.

There are hundreds of millions of people online. Not all of them are going to like you. And that’s okay. You will survive. Different strokes work for different folks. What Person A might like, Person B hates. Your only job is to be YOU and allow your people to find you.

As your content gets more traction, or when you go viral, you get more eyes on you — and more eyes increase the likelihood that someone won’t like what you have to say.

Before you crumble and internalize it, ask yourself if you’ve liked everyone you came across in real life or online.

You’ll survive, they’ll survive, and both of you will move on.

What’s more important is that more of your people will find you. Focus on them.

That brings me to my next point…

3. Decide on your people, and stop trying to be palatable to everyone.

I decided that I did not want to create for people with the attention span of a wall. I’m not jumping in your face with catchy hooks or 10 scenes in 10 seconds to capture your attention. I want to speak to people with the capacity for depth, so I will not be parading myself like a zoo animal and spending hours editing content with 12 fonts and synchronized sound effects trying to hold anyone’s attention.

I like yapping. Look at how long my average Substack post is. I’ll get a complete thought out, and you can either read it because it piques your interest or zoom past it and exit because it didn’t. I think it’s an excellent read either way, and I put out content I’m proud of. That’s all that matters to me at the end of the day.

I’m an ambitious high achiever, and writing about my experiences naturally brings in women like me or others who are drawn to my authenticity. These are my people.

And I’m not jumping through hoops to appease other people or anyone in general.

4. You’re allowed to pivot — you’re a PERSON before a “personal brand.”

I’ve been making content since before my frontal lobe fully developed, and in that time I’ve pivoted many times. Because, as you can imagine, what I started posting about when I was 19 is not what I want to talk about at 29.

But each pivot felt like a struggle because it felt like I was leaving people behind, like I was “switching up” on them and risking looking fake, confused, or all over the place. It was almost like going through a friendship breakup and grieving every time.

That happened because I internalized the advice of having a “consistent message” and other social media advice that locks you into a niche or a set of inflexible rules.

Like Sasha perfectly articulated in her article:

A brand is consistent. A person is contradictory. A brand has a message. A person has moods. A brand exists to be consumed. A person exists to live.

As I went through those natural contradictory phases while navigating my early, mid, and late twenties, I was all over the place. And because I prioritized building a consistent brand, I really struggled to just be myself without the pressure of performing to stay in that box I placed myself in.

Well, I no longer do that to myself. I embrace the contradictions, moods, and various interests that come with being human, instead of trying to fit myself into a “personal brand.” I’m just me. And I don’t try to define or categorize that.

5. I’m entitled to my privacy despite what others believe, and I’m not debating it

As I said earlier, I’ve been creating content for about a decade on various platforms —blogs, a podcast, TikTok, and now Substack. I decided from day one that there were certain topics I won’t cover and certain parts of my life I won’t post, and I haven’t compromised on that.

I don’t talk about my dating life, I don’t post close friends and family, and I only share my vulnerable moments after I’ve already gone through and processed them, and only to the extent that it’s relevant to help my audience based on the topic at hand. I do not process my feelings live on the internet. I live through them first.

I’m fully aware of the “debate” that creators aren’t entitled to privacy because they chose to be in the public eye — that there’s an expectation to be fully transparent with your audience about everything. That expectation is none of my business.

I will only share what I feel comfortable sharing, and I will not conform under pressure. You can’t bully me into telling my business, but you’re free to argue with yourself in the mirror.

6. Create the experience you want instead of trying to replicate what works for others

I share all of this because, just like many others, I used to put a lot of pressure on myself to show up online in a way that did not feel natural to me because I thought that’s what was required to be “successful.”

I didn’t start seeing real growth until I released myself from the shackles of these expectations and created new rules that aligned with what worked for me.

I believe this is somewhat redundant to my first point, but it’s worth pointing out as many times as required for you to get this.

If you create content in a way that’s performative and contradictory to who you are and how you intuitively create, you will burn out and grow to hate it.

Everything changed for me when I realized that I did not actually have to keep forcing myself to accept the rules everyone else was playing by. I could create my own rules and play my own game. A game I’d grow to actually love and enjoy because it worked for me.

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Moral of the story — question what you’ve accepted as a rule for creating.

If it doesn’t work for you, create a new one that does.

Because if you think about it, the only person that’s holding a gun to your head is you.

Even if you conformed to the existing “rules” of creating, you would burn out before you could actually create something meaningful — so it’s not even worth forcing yourself to acquiesce.

There’s a lot of “thought-leader” type articles and content about how authenticity is making a comeback, and I could’ve taken that route to persuade you to finally have the courage to be yourself and stop conforming to what used to work.

But instead, I did what felt intuitive — I shared my journey and lessons from 10 years of creating content where I performed, and what changed when I finally decided to just be myself. And I hope you take this as a warning and don’t spend the next 10 years performing just to learn that same lesson yourself.

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Leave a comment & let me know:

Which perspective are you struggling with the most right now (if you create or are aspiring to create content on any platform)?

Also, if you want to create more authentic content that leaves people feeling seen, understood, and connected to you — should I write a post on the system I’ve been using to do that?

I’ve been creating content for a decade now on multiple platforms, and the #1 comment I always get is something along the lines of: “You literally took the words out of my mouth!” “Are you watching me or something???” “This is EXACTLY what I’m going through right now.” “This really resonated with me! It’s so refreshing seeing someone articulate it so well 🥹” etc etc etc

My writing and content stand out because I speak to people so they feel something; I’m not curating a perfectly consistent brand with hooks and all that stuff like I used to. And I’ve been averaging between 3000 and 6500+ subscribers every month.

So if y’all want the system I’ve been using, let me know, and I’ll write about it in my next article.

Selfishly, I love reading authentic pieces that make me feel something or that resonate with me, so of course I want to share how I create so I can find some more great articles to read on here, lol

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And if you love reading authentic pieces, upgrade to paid for exclusive content where I go even deeper…

Like in the Unravelling Series: It’s the behind-the-scenes of what actually happened that led to the inner work that helped me stop performing — the parts I don’t share publicly. From losing my identity, my closest relationships, and my sense of self… to the death of the version of me that lived for external validation, and the birth of who I was always meant to be.

Upgrade to read Part 1:

The Unravelling of a High Achiever: I got tired of performing a life built for everyone else's approval so I walked away from all of it

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A Special Invitation 💌

If you’re ready to dismantle the identity that has you performing authenticity, you can work with me directly inside Become You 2.0. Enrollment for the next cohort is now open.

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