There was a time when social media felt simple to me. I was just another person scrolling through posts, laughing at videos, admiring photos, and occasionally sending a message to someone I looked up to. Back then, I never really thought about what it meant to be on the receiving end of all that attention. I would type out a message to someone I admired, hit send, and wait. Sometimes there would be no reply. Sometimes there would be a small reaction, maybe a like or a short response, and it would make my entire day. In those moments, it felt magical, like I had been seen.
I never stopped to think about how many other people were doing the exact same thing at the same time.
Now, everything feels different. Somewhere along the way, without fully realizing it, I stepped into that space. My following grew, slowly at first, then more noticeably. What started as me simply sharing parts of my life became something more. On my personal page, I share moments with my family, snippets of my day, little thoughts that I hope might make someone smile or feel understood. On another page, I share my fitness journey and my love for fashion, and somehow I found myself being called the Boot Queen. Even writing that feels surreal because it was never something I set out to become.
But with that growth came something I was not prepared for.
The messages.
Every single day, my notifications fill up. Comments come in by the hundreds, and my inbox is never empty. Some messages are incredibly kind, filled with encouragement, support, and appreciation. Others are more casual, quick reactions or thoughts that people felt like sharing in the moment. Then there are the occasional messages that make me pause, the kind that I read, blink, and decide it is best to just move on from.
Still, every single one represents a person who took a moment out of their day to reach out to me. That is something I do not take lightly.
And yet, there is this constant question that sits quietly in the back of my mind. Should I reply to this comment. Should I respond to this message. Should I acknowledge this person who reached out.
It sounds simple, but it is not.
Because for every message I open, there are ten more waiting. For every reply I type, there are dozens I have not gotten to yet. The thought of responding to every single one feels impossible, and yet there is this lingering sense of responsibility that makes it hard to ignore. I remember what it felt like to be on the other side, hoping for a reply, checking my phone, feeling that small spark of excitement when I got noticed.
Now I am the one holding that power, and it is heavier than I expected.
There are moments when I sit down and try to respond to as many people as I can. I genuinely want to. I want people to know that I see them, that I appreciate them, that their words matter to me. But time moves quickly. Between work, family, and everything else life demands, hours pass before I even realize it. And even then, the messages never stop coming. It becomes clear very quickly that if I tried to respond to everyone, it would take up my entire day, every day, and even that would not be enough.
That realization came with a mix of emotions. Gratitude, definitely. But also a quiet kind of guilt.
Because no matter how much I try, I know there will always be people I cannot reply to.
It has made me reflect on the way I used to view celebrities and public figures. I used to wonder why they did not respond more often. I used to think it would not take that much effort to just reply to a message or acknowledge a comment. Now I understand that it is not about effort. It is about scale. When the volume becomes overwhelming, even the smallest action multiplies into something that is no longer manageable.
And yet, behind all of that, there is something deeply human about the connection.
Every comment, every message, every reaction is someone reaching out in their own way. Some people share their stories with me. Some tell me that something I posted made them laugh on a bad day. Others say they feel motivated or inspired. Those are the moments that stay with me. Those are the moments that remind me why I started sharing in the first place.
I never intended to become an influencer, and I still hesitate to fully embrace that label. But I cannot deny that I have, in my own way, become someone people look to. That realization is both humbling and a little overwhelming.
There is also the reality that not every message is kind. Social media has a way of bringing out all kinds of voices, and not all of them are gentle. Some messages are easy to brush off. Others linger a little longer than I would like. Learning how to navigate that has been part of this journey as well, understanding that not every opinion needs a response and not every comment deserves my energy.
Through all of this, I have gained a new level of respect for those who live this reality on an even larger scale. The constant attention, the endless stream of messages, the expectations that come with being visible. It is not as simple as it looks from the outside.
At the same time, I hold on to what matters most to me. My family, my work, my own sense of balance. Social media is a part of my life, but it is not my entire life. I remind myself of that often, especially on days when the notifications feel overwhelming.
If there is one thing I hope people understand, it is this. Even if I cannot respond to every message or comment, it does not mean I do not see them. It does not mean I am not grateful. Every bit of support, every kind word, every person who takes the time to engage with what I share means something to me.
I was once the person sending those messages, hoping to be noticed. Now I am the person receiving them, wishing I could respond to every single one. Somewhere in between those two experiences, I have come to understand what it truly means to be on both sides of the screen.
And maybe that understanding is the most valuable part of this journey.
No comments:
Post a Comment