About Me
My life isn’t very exciting, I spend most of my time alone in front of screens – typing, playing, learning, doomscrolling through memes and reels.
Most people on the Internet interestify their lives and create the image of flawless models with perfect families traveling around the world to share their “random” snaps in the most contrived aesthetic possible. I don’t. In fact, I open my feed once a day, I reply to messages once a week, and post once a month.
My story is quite unique, I admit. Having a motorcycle accident at 17 and being left severely disabled and traumatized is fortunately not a common teenage experience. But whenever those strokes of fate do happen, a group will gather around to watch that person get their life back on track. Recovery isn’t linear, and it’s not the feelgood message movies romanticize it to be. Good and bad moments coexist along the road, making life beautiful, painful, joyous, and exhausting.
So yeah, if I were asked about my main mission on the Internet: Education and destigmatization.
#Like4Like
I started Instagram back in 2012 when I was 13 years old. That was the time everyone used this Nashville filter with the vintage frame and literally copied the whole TagsForLikes site into their descriptions.
My posts got a few likes and cringy comments from my friends, and 100 followers felt like the world. (With 300 following because you gotta do f4f).
Reminiscing, this was the golden time of social media. The concept of influencers did not yet exist because everyone was too busy sharing pictures of their food titled “yummy.” TikToks were a thing of the future since videos could only measure 15 seconds.
Motorcycle Accident
The breaking point in my online presence was undoubtedly the motorcycle accident which had cost six bones, my mental health, and the red bike.
When the story got out, my name gained recognition among people from everywhere who had similar experiences. While we all struggled to take our lives back, they started to see me as an inspiration, and even back then – whether you become famous or not is out of your hands.
The Influencer Phase
There I was, 2019 with over 30,000 followers, ready to make something of it. I never liked the term influencer, but, in retrospect, I was exactly that. Still in belief I would have a great recovery story to tell one day, my accounts were crowded with inspirational health posts, photoshoots, and
I got tons of free stuff and even had conversations about freaking cars from dealerships.
When I founded the women’s organization cargirlsociety, a community for cargirls who stand against sexism and other forms of discrimination, I learned a lot about business and marketing, so – between rehabs and doctor’s appointments – that’s what I did for some years.
Lockdowns and Activism
COVID hit and social media took a turn for the worse. While the lockdowns weren’t too much of a restriction for me – I’ve already been the “home alone” person – I simply started sewing masks instead of dresses. My chronic illnesses, such as Asthma, prevented me from meeting people and made every hospital visit a potentially deadly trip.
Which made it that much more infuriating to see other influencers preach “stay home” while partying and vacationing in crowded hotspots, heedless of medical staff working tirelessly to keep patients alive. Thus, activism was born.
I dedicated my reach to teach and inform on Corona, Black Lives Matter, and other important topics of 2020. Because I believe everyone with a certain amount of followers has the responsibility to use their platform for education and resourcing. You know, “influencing” your followers on something more meaningful than your last meal or a discount code for a fast fashion brand.
Finding my Place
Still struggling with my recovery and what to make of my life, I dipped my toes into different hobbies and sports, did online courses on marketing, business, and education, and started streaming on Twitch. Oh, and I bought more cars. Though most of the time, I just binge-watched the same shows over and over.
But mental illness is a nasty disease, sneaking up when things go smoothly for too long. So as I went through more rehabs and hospital stays, I felt myself slipping into depression again. I started questioning my Internet presence, for I ignored messages and neglected friendships while posting meaningless things online. Very absurd, come to think of it.
Feeling like I don’t deserve to have moments of joy and days of elation, I scrutinized the raison d’être of my bi-monthly car pictures and too-old selfies in a world full of dance TikToks and pet reels.
Where will I go? What will I do with my name? I don’t know. And honestly, I don’t care. Time ago, I stopped taking things too seriously, quit thinking of followers as a goal to achieve. I’m glad for the small community of love and kindness, the people who stayed over the years, and the ones who I only met recently.
I will explore different topics, start doing reels (I’m terrible at them), and try to interact more regularly. Furthermore, I will continue to use the privilege of a large influence to raise awareness and advocate for those whose voices need to be heard.
BTW, if you read until here, enjoy this drawing I made:
(coming soon)