Twelve months ago, I decided to take the plunge and set up a TikTok account. I knew I was super late to the TikTok game but was drawn by the allure of a platform that was known for its raw, less-curated content. Plus, I knew most of my friends and family favored other platforms, which promised some anonymity—something I’d been craving.
Why the anonymity?
Because I wanted to practice showing up more authentically, and felt excited about sharing my thoughts and insights in a space where I didn’t already know my followers. Many of my Facebook friends are people I’ve known for decades (some since elementary school) and already have a pre-conceived idea of who I am. Instagram is similar.
As I’ve healed both emotionally and spiritually, my views and beliefs have undergone massive transformation. I could tell my authentic self-expression was wanting to ‘stretch her wings’, but also knew a part of me felt nervous about sharing her with these people—people I know and love, but who also know an older, more-outdated version of Melissa.
Melissa 2.0 needed some space to try her voice on for size—without fear of judgment from childhood friends who I haven’t spoken to in years. (For those of you who never have an issue expressing yourself, that’s amazing! This has not been my experience.)
So, I took the plunge and signed up to TikTok right before my birthday last year. I’ve just passed my one year anniversary—and reflecting on the journey has me feeling a lot of feelings.
When I started, I was genuinely excited. I thought it would come naturally.
I love to teach, I’m passionate about the work I do… I figured I’d just hop on, hit record, and start posting. I even set an audacious goal to post 1,000 TikToks in a year.
(That’s just 3 a day! Easy, right?)
(Spoiler alert: I did not post 1000 TikToks. I’ve made under 200. But you know what? That number doesn’t even matter to me anymore.)
What I did gain? Unexpected therapy.
Showing up on social media—especially a platform like TikTok that values that raw, less-curated content—was way more confronting than I expected.
I didn’t hate it—not at all.
But I was shocked by the resistance that came up.
I hit a wall of imposter syndrome.
That inner critic asking:
“Who do you think you are?”
“What if people actually see this?”
“What if they don’t?”
My nervous system wasn’t prepared for the visibility. Even filming a 30-second video felt like stepping into a spotlight that I both wanted, and felt conflicted about embracing. I felt the regular tension between “I want to show up!” versus “I want to run and hide!”
I went entire months without posting as I wrestled with my internal beliefs.
And yet, through it all… I learned to keep showing up.
Messily. Inconsistently. But I kept showing up.
And in the process, I’ve had some beautiful breakthroughs:
✨ Learning to recognize when inspiration was hitting me—and just hit record
✨ Letting go of needing to look perfect (yes, I’ve filmed post-workout and sweaty)
✨ Realizing my words matter more than the filters
✨ And the biggest surprise? People were so kind. The trolls I feared never really appeared. It was 99.9% encouragement, resonance, and “thank you for saying this.”
Somewhere in the midst of imperfect videos and shaky uploads, I found something even more valuable than trying to pump out three posts a day:
I found a deeper version of me.
The version who’s not waiting to feel “ready.”
The version who shows up—perfectionism, nerves, and all.
The version who trusts that sharing her voice is part of her healing.
If you’ve ever felt the tension between wanting to be seen but also wanting to hide?
I see you. I am you.
And if you’re not already hanging with me on TikTok, I’d love to invite you to follow along.
That’s where I share daily-ish encouragement, money mindset tips, spiritual reflections, and raw moments of the journey:
If you follow me there, feel free to drop a comment or message and say you found me through this post. I’d genuinely love to connect with you.
Before I sign off, I have a question for you: Where are you feeling the invitation to bravely step out in your authenticity?
The world needs you to show up—imperfections and all. Would you say yes?
With love and a slightly sweaty face,
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