A little while ago, I decided to start posting on TikTok every single day.
Not because I had some perfect strategy.
Not because I knew exactly what I was doing.
Mostly because I wanted to stop overthinking absolutely everything.
I’ve spent years creating content in different ways — blogging, photography, illustration, Instagram — but TikTok felt different somehow. Faster. Louder. More exposed.
Photos can be edited.
Captions can be rewritten.
But videos? Videos feel personal.
Especially talking videos.
So naturally, instead of easing myself in gently like a sensible person, I started doing daily videos talking directly to the camera until it stopped feeling awkward.
Spoiler alert: it still feels awkward sometimes.
But I have learnt a lot.
The first thing I’ve learnt is that TikTok is genuinely unpredictable.
You can spend ages filming and editing something thoughtful that you’re proud of… and it gets 214 views.
Then you upload something random in five minutes and suddenly thousands of people are watching it.
One of my biggest videos was literally based around an AI filter trend. Meanwhile, some of the videos that felt the most “me” barely moved at all.
At first, that messed with my confidence a bit.
It’s hard not to start questioning yourself when numbers are visible everywhere. Views. Likes. Shares. Followers. Retention. Everything feels measurable.
But over time I’ve realised that numbers don’t always reflect value.
Some videos build connection instead of reach.
Some attract followers quietly over time.
Some exist purely because you needed to post them.
And honestly? Consistency matters more than perfection anyway.
Another thing I’ve learnt is that confidence is mostly repetition.
I kept waiting to magically feel comfortable on camera before posting confidently, but that’s not really how it works.
You post awkwardly first.
Then eventually your brain stops treating recording yourself like a life-threatening event.
I still overthink things sometimes. I still restart sentences halfway through. I still cringe watching some videos back. But I’m nowhere near as anxious as I was when I first started.
Recently I even filmed my first outdoor talking video while walking around playing Pokémon GO in the park.
Did I feel awkward? Absolutely.
Did I still post it? Also yes.
And weirdly, that felt like more of an achievement than any view count.
I’ve also learnt that people connect more with honesty than perfection.
The internet can make it feel like you need:
perfect lighting,
a spotless house,
expensive equipment,
a niche immediately,
a polished aesthetic,
and endless confidence before you’re “allowed” to post.
But some of the creators I enjoy most are simply people who feel real.
People who ramble a bit.
People who admit they’re nervous.
People whose lives don’t look perfectly curated.
I think audiences are craving authenticity more than polished perfection now.
And finally, I’ve learnt that creating content regularly forces you to stop hiding.
That sounds dramatic, but it’s true.
You stop waiting for the “better version” of yourself to appear first.
You stop thinking:
“I’ll post properly when I lose weight.”
“When my skin clears up.”
“When my house is cleaner.”
“When I’m more interesting.”
“When I know exactly who I am online.”
Because if you wait until you feel fully confident, you’ll probably never start.
I still don’t know exactly where my TikTok account is going.
Some days it’s nostalgic millennial rambling. Some days it’s mum life. Some days it’s trends. Some days it’s me talking about Pokémon Go while wandering around a park trying not to make eye contact with strangers.
But maybe that’s okay.
Maybe the point isn’t becoming instantly successful or perfectly polished.
Maybe the point is simply becoming less afraid to take up space online as yourself.
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