My birthday is around the corner and I’m preparing for a rebrand.
Usually, this means an aesthetic shift — which I secretly hope will develop into something more profound. This year, I was ready to say goodbye to my long hair. It’s not the first time I’ve gone for a dramatic cut, but it’s been a while since I’ve returned to short hair. I had my Pinterest board bookmarked and was excited to welcome the optimism that comes with marking a new beginning.
I was planning to end my two-month YouTube hiatus with a transformation vlog. I had a few working titles in mind — new beginnings, cutting all my hair off, new look… new me. I played out the vlog in my head, planning all the b-roll I’d need to capture. I was obsessed with the final result but I hadn’t even hit record yet — and when I finally did, nothing felt right. I wasn’t having fun. I took a beat and asked myself aloud, “Do you even want to vlog today?” “No,” I answered.
The sense of relief was immediate. There was no need for me to perform — I could just put on my comfy clothes. On the walk to my hair appointment, I began to reflect on why I’d suddenly felt so at ease, at a time when saying no felt so right. It made me question why I started making videos in the first place. It all seemed pointless, but it was important to remind myself of the good things that came out of my YouTube stint: I improved my video editing skills, posted consistently for the first time and enjoyed having a weekly project to pour my creativity into.
When I compared who I was back then to who I am now, I realised I was pretty lonely while making those videos. I was searching for somewhere to release my feelings — a way to process what I was going through. Looking back, it was really just a conversation I was having with myself.
The main difference is that I now have a core group of platonic soulmates. I often imagine these friends as the Board Members of my life, with me as the Chair. Each one brings their own strengths and expertise, always there to listen and support. I could talk to each Board Member for hours — analysing coworkers, laughing at horoscopes, or sharing motivational morning calls. They want the best for me, so they’re not afraid to speak up, hold me accountable or call me out. I show them every version of myself and they love every single one. No performing.
It’s taken me a while to find my people and feel this connected to my friends. I think it came with age — with time, patience, and a lot of love and loss. My early twenties were about trying everything and figuring myself out. Now, on the cusp of another birthday, I feel more grounded. I have a clearer sense of who I am, and with that, a clearer sense of the people I want to keep close.
I think that’s why I took a break from YouTube. No more conversations with myself and a camera. I have my nearest and dearest now. These feelings about YouTube have been brewing for a while. Recently, I filmed a video about my journaling ecosystem, and as I was editing it, I kept asking myself, “Why do I want strangers to watch me talk about this?” Don’t get me wrong — I’ll always have thoughts to share and the desire to put myself out there. I just don’t want to be the face of it anymore.
I don’t want to perform — to put on an outfit and vlog it. I want to call my friends, then slip into my comfy clothes and write from the coziness of my bed.
Things that inspired this essay
oh, there’s my prefrontal cortex! — Anything Goes with Emma Chamberlain
The Rehearsal — Season 1, Episode 1
Sometimes you don’t wanna say anything, but you do want people to know you exist. — Nathan Fielder
stop craving validation from people you don't like by
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The way you describe this feeling of freedom when you decide to finally listen to your intuition about something is so beautfiul and so accurate. I also love the way you mix media!