About a month ago I was scrolling Facebook and I couldn’t get away from it. Ad after ad. Influencer after influencer. Everybody suddenly an expert on GLP-1’s, everybody with a link, everybody with a discount code and a before photo.
And I just stopped and thought, how can anyone trust anything on social media anymore?
That was the moment. Not a business plan. Not a strategy. Just a gut punch of how did we get here, and who is actually looking out for real people trying to feel better in their own bodies.
So I decided to do something about it. I’m creating a local event. In person. Real people in a real room having real conversations. I’m calling it Beyond the Buzz, because that’s exactly the point. Let’s get beyond the buzz and the hype and the noise and actually talk to each other.
Here’s what it is. An open house. You walk in, and in the room are local vendors I have personally worked with on my own healing and wellness journey. These are the people I trust with my body, my health, the stuff that actually matters. No speeches. No sales pitches. Nobody cornering you to close a deal.
You come with your own questions. You walk up to whoever you want to. You ask. That’s it. It’s the in-person version of the thing we’ve all lost, which is being able to look someone in the eye and go, okay, but does this actually work, and watch their face when they answer.
Now here’s the part I don’t usually say out loud.
I almost didn’t do it.
Not because I didn’t believe in it. I did, all the way. It was the other stuff. Putting myself out there to be judged. Hosting something with my name on it and knowing people get to have opinions about that. And the quiet one, the one that whispers the loudest, what if nobody comes.
That’s the fear that kills more good ideas than anything else. Not failure. Just the possibility of an empty room and the story your brain writes about you if that happens.
Old me would have let that win. Old me would have kept the idea safe in my head where it couldn’t embarrass me.
But the woman I’m becoming clicked into group after group after group and cross-posted it anyway. Copy, paste, post. My nervous system didn’t even flinch.
Until it did.
Then came the laughing emoji. Then came the anonymous comment. And yes, it stirred some shit up in me for a minute.
Because being seen means people get to react. Some clap. Some laugh. Some hide behind anonymous and take a little swing. That’s the deal. You don’t get to reach people without also being reachable by the ones who just want to poke.
Old me would have reacted. Old me would have defended. Old me would have typed a whole paragraph, receipts ready, tone just polite enough to look like I wasn’t bothered while being completely bothered.
But I took a breath instead. I felt it. And I let it move through me instead of firing back.
Because the people judging from the sidelines are rarely the ones brave enough to build something. A laughing emoji is not a stop sign. An anonymous comment is not a verdict. And an empty-room fear is not a good enough reason to stay small.
So I’m putting it out there anyway. The event is real. The room is real. And I would rather show up fully and be misunderstood by a few than shrink myself down to the version nobody could possibly have a problem with.
Post it anyway. Say the thing. Build the room. Not everyone is going to get it, and that was never the assignment.
Today’s intention: I let myself be seen without needing everyone to understand me.