Oh, YouTube. My wannabe personality is somewhere between movie maker, mysterious indie star, producer, editor, creative director, and woman who definitely owns a silk robe for dramatic thinking. In my head, it all looks so cinematic. I film, I edit, I upload, I casually build ErdeGora, and somehow the Shopify store blossoms like a moody little garden in the background.
And then reality arrives. Rude, as always.
Because everything takes time. YouTube takes time, Shopify takes time, Instagram takes time, Pinterest takes time, the website takes time, the products take time, the ideas take time. Even the “quick little update” takes three hours, one existential crisis, and a snack I didn’t even enjoy properly. And maybe, if it were just one thing, I could handle it. But it isn’t one thing. It is all the things.
It is all the platforms, all the updates, all the improvements, all the “we made it easier for creators” announcements that somehow make me feel like I need a degree, a second brain, and a very calm assistant named Margaret. Every platform is changing constantly, and lately it feels even louder, faster, more demanding. They say they are making it easier for creators, but somehow I feel more lost than before. My YouTube Shorts got three views. Three. Not three thousand. Not three hundred. Three. At that point, even my sarcasm needed a chair.
I miss freedom. Not the dramatic kind where I run barefoot through a field with perfect hair, although yes, I would absolutely accept that too. I mean the freedom to do what I want, when I want. The freedom to create without chasing formats, to dream without checking analytics, to make something because it feels good, not because someone on the internet said the hook needs to happen in the first second or everyone will spiritually abandon me.
And the annoying part is that I know I’m lucky. I have a quiet life. A peaceful life, in many ways. A life I shouldn’t complain about too loudly because somewhere, someone would love to have this kind of silence. But here is the problem with me: I thrive in chaos. Peace is beautiful, but chaos knows my name.
I always want more. I always want to learn something new. I always want to open another door, start another project, build another thing, draw another design, test another idea, become another version of myself before the previous one has even finished her coffee. So I skip from one thing to another. From Shopify to YouTube, from product ideas to video edits, from designs to platforms, from strategy to panic, from inspiration to “what am I even doing?”
Some days I feel like a ballerina who is too tired, too heavy, too late, too much, too everything to get on the main stage. And I know how cruel that sounds, but that is the feeling. Like I am rehearsing behind the curtain while everyone else already knows the choreography. Like the music started without me. Like I have the dream, the costume, the aching feet, but somehow I still can’t make it to the spotlight.
I am tired, and I don’t want to be tired. That is the most offensive part. I don’t want rest to feel like failure. I don’t want sleep to feel like betrayal. I don’t want to look at my own body, my own mind, my own limits, and think, “Could you please be less human? I have things to build.”
Because I do. I have so many product ideas waiting for me like impatient little ghosts. I have designs to draw, products to list, a Shopify store to update, videos to film, videos to edit, captions to write, platforms to understand, and a life to enjoy somewhere in between. The life part is especially inconvenient because apparently you are supposed to live one while also building the dream version of it. Very inconsiderate design, honestly.
So I watch the gurus. The tips, the tricks, the “do this before it’s too late,” the “small creators must know this,” the “this changed everything,” the “algorithm secrets nobody is telling you.” And somewhere between the seventh video and my third personality crisis, I start wondering if everything is a scam.
Because sometimes it feels like the people winning are inside circles that already know how to lift each other. Communities. Networks. Little invisible rooms where everyone claps for everyone while the rest of us are outside holding our little handmade dreams, whispering, “Hi, I brought value.” And there is that word again. Value. Give value, offer value, create value, lead with value. But what is value now? Is it a free guide, a perfect tutorial, a vulnerable story, a discount code, a piece of your soul wrapped nicely in a carousel post?
Nothing is really free. Everything is for sale. Even the freebies are little doors into a funnel. Even generosity has a strategy. Even authenticity has a content plan. And I get it, I do. We all need to survive. We all need to sell something. We all need to be seen somehow. But sometimes I miss when creating felt less like feeding a machine and more like leaving a tiny piece of myself somewhere, hoping the right person would find it.
Maybe that is why I keep going. Not because I understand the platforms, because I absolutely do not. They change personalities more often than I do. Not because I have mastered consistency, because I am more of a passionate tornado with branding issues. Not because I have endless energy, because my soul has already asked for annual leave. I keep going because underneath the exhaustion, there is still something alive. A little stubborn spark. A tiny dramatic candle refusing to go out, probably wearing eyeliner.
The wannabe movie maker is still there. The star is still there. The producer is still there. The exhausted shop owner is also there, probably eating bread over the sink. And maybe all of them are me. Maybe this is the chaos I claim to love. Not the glamorous kind, but the real kind. The kind where you are tired but full of ideas, lost but still curious, overwhelmed but still romantic enough to believe that something beautiful can come out of the mess.
I wish I didn’t have to sleep. I wish I could build through the night and still wake up soft and glowing, like women in movies who apparently never need magnesium, invoices, or emotional support snacks. But I do have to sleep. I do have to live. I do have to remember that building a dream is not the same as abandoning a life.
And maybe that is the hardest platform to keep up with: life. Because between the products, the videos, the updates, the algorithms, the gurus, the circles, the scams, the strategy, the value, the selling, the dreaming, there is still a person here. Me. A bit dreamy, a bit sarcastic, a bit tired, still wanting more, still wanting beauty, still wanting the main stage even if I arrive late, overdressed, and slightly out of breath.
So this week, I am not quitting. But I am also not pretending it is easy. I am building slowly, messily, dramatically, with three views, ten ideas, one tired body, and a heart that still refuses to be practical. Because maybe the dream does take time. Maybe everything does. And maybe I am not behind. Maybe I am just in rehearsal.
- weird. passionate. unapologetic. -
