I don't like having secrets
Someone just asked me how I justify losing privacy with the VIOLETFOG platform.
Valid Q.
My platform doesn’t have the strength to stand on aesthetics alone. Because I’m not an aesthetic creator- when it comes to home, fashion etc. Do I think my shiz is cute? Duh. But it’s not aesthetic enough to be all my page is about.
My platform doesn’t have the strength to stand on just educational posts alone. I may be a solid researcher and have some outstanding connections where I can get the juice and connect the dots… but I’m not myself an expert.
My platform doesn’t have the strength to stand on memes and skits and dub overs etc. Because that’s just not my strength.
So what do I have to stand on? Me.
Just me.
Trips inside my brain. Diary entries from my heart. My own complex sheeeeeit and giving people a peak.
Why do I do it? Because I want to connect. I like having internet friends. Something about it is so insanely fun for me. I may not know these people IRL but damn do I care about them and it’s fun to picture Amy in Oaklahoma reading my shiz and engaging in dialogue with me.
Why else do I do it? Because I want to create. Besides being in relationship with people IRL, on my own- I am happiest when I have created. Writing, video, photos. I get so much satisfaction out of creating and expressing. If I didn’t have this outlet I’d find another.
Why else do I do it? Because it helps me reflect and understand. I’ve always said I don’t understand exactly what I think about things until I start writing. This outlet forces me to sit down and research externally and also my own thoughts.
Other benefits- I don’t make as much as you’d think from the platform but I make enough to help my family financially (my “real” job is my filming business.) I do get some cool products from brands— most of which I end up sending out to you in packages. It also keeps people in my life in the loop about what’s going on with me. There’s always things to share with them when I talk to them IRL of course but generally they get the jist of what’s going on with me. What you see online VERY VERY CLOSELY reflects me offline. As more of a listener than a talker, and as we don’t have as much time, I do love getting on a 10 min phone call with a gf and getting to make it more about her. Because she doesn’t share online much, but I do!
BUT REALLY WHY I DO IT—- I don’t like having secrets. Something about holding onto secrets makes me feel like I can be less myself in the real world. I don’t know WHY this is, but it is.
People tell me (sometimes) they can’t believe how much I share online. I tell them it’s almost like I feel I need to. Not that I OWE IT to anyone. But for myself, it provides clearance and frees up mental and emotional energy for me.
My pastor once said, “Try not to be a chameleon in life. You’re one way here, one way there, one way there, etc. That’s exhausting. Try to kill the chameleon, and live where you can be the same in every room.”
I related to that ENTIRELY.
I want to be FULL CAPS KATEY every moment I can because it is the most fun and liberating. (Hopey always says that -FULL CAPS NAME-…. I love it.)
I am the same with my friends, with my husband, with family, with you, with my clients.
If I am struggling, I tell you.
If I am passionate about something, I tell you.
If I find something funny, I tell you.
If I’m constipated, I tell you.
If I have an unpopular opinion, I tell you. (Usually. Sometimes I’m not brave enough.)
If I got insider information and I think it’d benefit you, I tell you.
Now if something is not mine to tell or it’s too closely intertwined with another who didn’t give consent, I won’t tell anyone.
But if it’s just mine…. game on.
I know it’s only online, but it’s still special to me. And I don’t know how I could feel connected with you truly if I wasn’t giving you the real me. We already spend so much time online, I want you to come to my page and feel like I’m really just shooting the shiz with you and keeping it honest and real. Because you deserve that.
Kill them chameleon— wherever you can.
