There was a time when I used to believe that conveying a powerful message was a matter of crafting the ideal words. Of showing up with rigor, put together and having everything neatly figured out.
I no longer believe this to be true.
I used to walk in rooms where all it took for instant recognition was a tailored dress, a pair of high heels and the intimidating gaze of someone who believes they’re a smartass. A carefully crafted persona to fit the context of choice. It wasn’t easily earned, but holding up the appearance almost certainly guaranteed being taken seriously.
Instead, I wake up to a carefully curated environment: the news I’m supposed to see, the people I’m supposed to follow, the connections I’m allowed (or not) to build, the tools I ought to use, the person I should aspire to become - they’re all the product of a done-for-you experience I don’t remember signing up for.
And the price? My Attention. My Creativity. My Time. (or ACT for short). They call them assets.
I call them what they are: intangible non-renewables.
In a way, every tool we use, every system we adopt becomes a mirror and a magnifying glass for the (limiting) beliefs we hold about ourselves and our reality. Use it with intention, and you hold a weapon in your hands.
All it takes is a look at social media, and everything that is foul and rotten in the collective mindspace comes to surface.
We live in a vicious collective dopamine-reinforcement loop, and it has grown into full-blown addiction. The more scattered we become, the more it feeds the metrics.
A floating mind is both brilliant in its ability to capture invisible connections, and vulnerable to being completely all over the place (aka the neurodivergent dilemma).
And that’s precisely where the attack surface lies.
We all strive to call ourselves creators, while the creator economy has turned into a zero-sum game. It’s:
Attention-based
Algorithm-driven
Commodified
Severely addicting
And the biggest price tag? Your ACT. The one resource you can never replenish.
Desperation is the destroyer of dignity.
It has justified outsourcing our trust, our skills, heck, even our intuition - just so we can get somewhere, anywhere, faster. We’ve burned the altars of the old Gods, only to submit to a new one while seemingly reclaiming our own divinity: The Algorithm.
We’d rather go broke on a shortcuts-checklist than consider accepting that nothing truly worthwhile ever comes easy.
No, I’m not romanticizing pain.
But growth by its nature is painful - stretching bones, building new tissue, breaking down dead mass to give life to the next iteration that wants to emerge in its place.
This is the ache of becoming.
There comes a point where what you think you stand for will be tested.
The real challenge is not whether you'll pass the test, but what passing it will cost you (or the price you're willing to pay).
Here’s where authenticity comes in - a word so butchered by personal-development speak that it has become barely recognizable.
Everybody talks about authenticity as if it's the pinnacle of self-actualization. What nobody talks about (enough) is integrity - when your actions and words are in accord. When you actually live right by the standards you claim for yourself and others. And here’s exactly where it gets incongruent for most: living in discrepancy while hoping people are too dumb to notice.
The best advice is modeled. The one you practice daily, not preach in your weekly mastermind or longform.
Which is why I’m done listening to hypocrites:
Anti-clutter missionaries who drown in their own (digital) mess (aka 135 subscriptions and 80 tabs open at once).
Mindfulness apostles who start scrolling at 5AM.
Boundary bosses with chronic FOMO jumping on every shiny “growth” opportunity that comes their way.
Calm-your-nervous-system fairies who secretly pop anxiety pills like candy.
Financial experts who live off coffee tips and Patreon donations.
Truth-telling is earned with lived experience, not affirmations.
This led me to my next aha-moment, the realization that there are two fundamental truths that shape reality:
Your words matter.
Your words don’t matter.
Which one prevails depends on whether you act on what you say.
Do, and you create a legacy. Don’t, and you create your demise.
Liberation starts with the courage to call yourself out.
Oh how easy it is to point fingers, hold lectures and throw around productivity advice like a lifeline for desperation.
But turning that finger back to yourself? That’s where the real work is buried under layers of inconvenience and pride.
But the rebellion doesn’t end at the reflection in the mirror.
That’s where it begins. That’s where we’re called to take action.
There are two types of change:
The one we talk about.
The one we bring about.
The most admirable people I have ever met had one thing in common: they acted on their words, and stood firm in their integrity.
Not the loud, performative kind that preaches through a loudspeaker, but the quiet, introspective kind that refuses to bend when everyone else is bowing.
There's something magnetic about people who won't compromise their core values for comfort, approval, or fame. You can feel their groundedness across a room, and their signal is bright like a lighthouse. You know what else?
The lighthouse doesn’t ask the storm for permission.
Bravo.
This probably my favorite article of your so far Violeta. It resonates in so many ways, I don't even know where to start.
The ACT model is beautiful. It's a diagnosis and prescription at the same time.
The combination of reality-check, wit and personal experience makes it really enjoyable to read. Seriously.
"We’ve burned the altars of the old Gods, only to submit to a new one while seemingly reclaiming our own divinity: The Algorithm."
I love this part. It would perfectly fit into one of my own articles.