Over the holidays, I unfollowed just about every famous fashion blogger on Instagram. I know, it sounds like quite a statement coming from a fashion blogger, but things have changed since I published my first post five years ago. It's common knowledge that I started my blog as a way to build a portfolio to become a fashion stylist, but that's a dream I've long since put to bed. I didn't unfollow anyone out of spite (I know as well as anyone that fashion bloggers are often in the "love to hate" category of life) and I'm sure I'll start following along again once fashion week kicks up, but for now? I need a break.
It's funny; the way I categorized who stayed safe in my feed and who got the boot was by asking the question "who do I see as a threat," though not in the way you might think. These beautiful, talented, wealthy and wise women are not on my level, and I am not on theirs. They are not a threat to my career, no--but I saw them as somewhat of a threat to my sanity.
The closer I follow the famous ones, the more I find my goals subconsciously aligning with theirs, however far from my life's story they fall. Their numbers--how many Instagram followers they have--are great, because most of the social media crowd knows that having more followers helps you do more things you want. But you know something? My life goal is not to have a bazillion followers. My job goal isn't even to have a bazillion followers. Despite the promise of more opportunities the more your audience grows, the larger scale states that having ten thousand more followers will not improve my quality of life.
Everyone has a voice. Not everyone has a platform. Readership is phenomenal, and having an audience that wants to hear what you have to say is both humbling and powerful all at once, and this is the part I want to remember. The beautiful thing about fashion blogging is that you get to be you. Some of us are writers, some of us are designers, some of us are personal finance buffs or personal-trainer buff. So many of the fashion blogging media moguls spend their days in front of the camera, shooting this magazine cover or this beauty campaign, flying from Paris to Milan to New York to Paris to New York to London to LA in a week and a half timespan. It's incredible. I feel proud of them. From the outside, they're living the dream. They're #goals. But it's taken me a few months to realize, or maybe just admit to myself...those aren't my goals.
I want to write a book. I want to write five books. I want to travel the world by myself and meet people smarter than me and find ways to help the less fortunate and introduce the opera to people who think they hate it. I want to own like five dogs and a hundred cats and live in the middle of Colorado, waking up early every morning just to see if there are any bears in the yard. I want to love my job, whatever it may be, and never forget that I'm a small person in an unfathomably gigantic world. I want to drink eight cups of coffee a day and not care about working out because I never do. I want to sing all the time and daydream about meetcutes and someday, I don't want to worry about posting every minute of it on everyone's favorite app.
Jealousy hasn't been a problem for me in the past couple years of my blog life, and for that I'm grateful. These days, it's more of a struggle to keep my eyes on my own prize. I love writing truelane and sharing so much of my life with you, but some days, I just need to sit back with a cup of joe and think it all through...usually with a paper and pen. How do you guys focus on your own goals?