Be Careful What You Wish For
...or you just might get it
Every day I delete over two dozen emails from PR companies with invites to review beauty items, become an affiliate for an online boutique, interview an actress or an author, and to share an expert's insight on relationships, sex, or self-love. It's annoying as fuck, even if I get free products or get paid to push their brand. I know, bloggers would KILL for these emails and contacts. At one point, I did too. And as the Pussycat Doll's song lyric, "Be careful what you wish for or you just might get it," runs through my head as I type, I recall how desperately I wanted to be a part of "the in crowd" of bloggers and influencers.
I remember attending BlogHer in San Diego in 2011 and pimping myself out as a love expert and blogger to no avail. Mom bloggers were in high demand and I was single and sans child. I felt rejected, defeated and determined to get a brand deal without having to get knocked up. Nothing knew for those that know me. When I'm denied I usually feel like shit before putting my game face on and shouting, "Oh, I'm going to do this. Just you wait!"
When I returned to NYC from San Diego, I researched brands and pitched myself to family-friendly blogs (Babble, Momtastic and Mamiverse) as a relationship blogger with a "single gal who desperately wants a family and a husband" spin. It was a strategic entrepreneurial move to diversify my portfolio and be seen as sellable. Real talk, when brand reps perused Love Sujeiry they'd clutch their pearls - unless they worked for Trojan. But Trojan didn't have events weekly and I wanted to be cool for the 'gram. I wanted to share (see: boast) the comings and goings of my life and for my followers to view me as a confident go-getter that is constantly elevating her game.
I was doing the most to be successful, yes, but also for the approval of others. And that’s when things take a turn and you’re no longer creating for fun or for your business. You get ugly. You sell yourself out for that ticket to travel the world. You grow jealous of other women, friends even, that are living their life like it's golden (or so it seems). That's where I was before the emails from PR agencies drowned my Inbox. A former friend was dipping and doing it all over NYC at brand events, magazine launches, and industry parties while I watched her Instagram feed, green with envy. I wanted to support her and I did with words of encouragement, like, "I'm so happy for you!" and, “You deserve this!" all while thinking to myself, "Why not me?!"
Ugly, I know. It’s a common outcome when coveting fame, the spotlight, and followers just to be liked and accepted.
What started as a business strategy to grow and elevate my brand turned into a life that triggered my insecurities. So, here I go, deleting emails. Here I go unsubscribing to lists that I desperately wanted to receive once upon a time.
This isn't my tribe. This isn't what I want. And I know that I will receive exactly what I need in due time.