Taryn Lewis shared their story and experiences with us recently and you can find our conversation below.
Taryn, really appreciate you sharing your stories and insights with us. The world would have so much more understanding and empathy if we all were a bit more open about our stories and how they have helped shaped our journey and worldview. Let’s jump in with a fun one: What are you most proud of building — that nobody sees?
Since we last spoke, the thing I’m most proud of building lately isn’t visible on my grid. It’s not a viral moment or campaign – it’s the life I’ve been quietly creating behind the scenes.
This past year has been a major reset. A relocation. A recalibration and return to myself. I moved across states, away from my hometown, and into something slower—smaller. Traded city suburbs and highways for creeks and mountain mornings.
I used to feel guilty if I wasn’t constantly creating, pitching, or posting. Now I’m learning to trust that slow seasons aren’t failure, but that pausing is part of the process. None of that would’ve been possible if I hadn’t spent years building the behind-the-scenes—routines, tools, and creative rhythms that now give me the freedom to unplug without unraveling.
Creating looks different now. I film more for fun. Vlog moments just for me. I’ve been living slower—offscreen and in real time. Concert nights, farmers markets, local festivals, creek walks, and dinners at home. Learning to make space in my life, not just my closet.
What I’m building now is a version of success that lets me put my phone down and still feel rooted in purpose. I’m proud that I’ve built a creative life that lets me pause when I need to. That’s not something I could’ve said years ago.
Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
Hey! I’m Taryn—also known as @tiktoktare— multi-niche content creator, aspiring actress, and former fed turned full-time content girly. My work blends theatrical training with expressive, high impact visuals. Whether I’ve been on stage or on your FYP, I strive to show up fully—real and ready to connect.
I built my platform during COVID while juggling a 9–5 with the FBI, and over time, it grew into something bigger than I ever imagined. What started as a creative escape and post-trauma healing turned into a full-blown career—and I’ve been lucky to build a vibrant community of over 100K beautiful humans.
I went from a DOJ desk to TikTok Partner, collaborating with over 130 industry giants—amika, COVERGIRL, Ellis Brooklyn, YSL Beauty, and Victoria’s Secret, to name a few. More recently, I hosted my first brand event with Aerie and was nominated for three 2025 Cheer Choice Awards. Wild.
But these days, my brand is evolving. My content now blends bold beauty with softness and storytelling. You’ll still see GRWMs, macro-shot beauty, transitions, and unhinged vlogs—but I’m also exploring BookTok, acting reels, and micro-aesthetic moments.
Off camera, you’ll find me chasing local charm—farmers markets, festivals, slow mornings and cozy nights in the mountains. I’ve been flirting with minimalism, diving into romantasy reads, scouting acting workshops, and writing stories for fun. Most days, it’s me, my furbabies, and a digital detox to fuel the chaos I bring online.
Think cozy café energy with a chaotic confidence boost—equal parts healing, hype, and humor. It’s for the creators, survivors, and baddies-in-progress who are figuring it out in real time—just like me. And sharing it honestly with the people who’ve been here through every pivot.
Thanks for sharing that. Would love to go back in time and hear about how your past might have impacted who you are today. What part of you has served its purpose and must now be released?
I think I’m releasing the version of myself that once believed life was supposed to follow a clear, linear path.
I grew up chasing the American Dream blueprint: college, career, perfect home, partner, maybe kids. A five-year plan tied up in a bow. I earned the degrees. I got the “real job.” I tried to follow what made sense on paper.
That mindset served me once. It got me through burnout, trauma, survival. She kept me safe, gave me structure, helped me succeed. But lately… she’s started to feel like a cage. And I’ve started grieving that version of life—not because I failed, but because I’ve outgrown the idea that there’s only one way to measure success.
By now, I thought I’d have it all. But I don’t. I don’t have a traditional 9–5. I’m not married. I don’t have it all figured out. But I’m creating. I’m healing. I’m building a life I love, one that looks different. Slower. Messier. More honest.
I’m learning to be okay with where I am, not where I thought I’d be. I’m letting go of the part that craved control and predictability. The one that measured success by timelines and titles, that needed everything to look a certain way to feel worthy.
Slowly I’m releasing her. Not to erase her, but to make space for the evolving version of me who knows she’s already enough.
Was there ever a time you almost gave up?
Absolutely—more than once. The deepest unraveling came after surviving a shooting in 2021. I lost colleagues, friends, and a version of myself I’ve never fully recovered. For a while, I didn’t know if I’d ever find my way back to myself or to making magic.
I left the FBI, moved back home, and couldn’t create at all. Grief and PTSD rewired my nervous system. For months, I lived in fight-or-flight. Survival became muscle memory. Creating didn’t just feel impossible, it felt wrong. How do you show up online when you’re barely surviving offline?
But healing has a strange way of sneaking up on you. Somewhere in the stillness, small things started pulling me back. A comment I could relate to. A camera I didn’t flinch to pick up. Stories that let me feel something again. I stopped chasing “normal” and started building something new.
The thing about rock bottom is, if you’re lucky, it becomes a reset. A chance to rebuild—not into who you were before, but someone more grounded, more intentional.
And the thought of giving up doesn’t feel entirely past tense now waking up in my thirties and starting over yet again. Living in limbo. Paused and pivoting to a life I didn’t plan for. Wondering how the hell I got here.
That gut-punch realization that you’re not settled into the life you imagined by now. Scrolling past the version of yourself plastered all over your feed—proposals and pregnancies, wedding announcements and anniversary trips.
Meanwhile, I’m in this weird in-between—building a creative career I love but questioning everything in the quiet moments. Packing up PR boxes on my mom’s kitchen table. It’s humbling. It’s jarring. It sometimes feels like failure, seeing echoes of timelines I thought I’d be living by now.
There have absolutely been days where I almost quit, when the trauma screams louder than the dream. When my hands shake before I hit record. When comparison cuts deep. Wondering if I missed my moment. (Hell, tomorrow might be one of them.) But maybe this is the moment, just not the one I expected.
I still wrestle with PTSD, still get triggered, but I’ve built rituals that hold me steady. These days, it’s less about “making it” and more about making it meaningful. I’m rooted in a different rhythm now.
Some days I’m offline completely. Others, I’m all in—filming, writing, plotting something wild behind the scenes. I still post. Still create. But I also say no more often. I rest more intentionally. I let it be messy and meaningful.
I didn’t give up. I just grieved the life I thought I’d have. And I’m learning to love the one I’m building.
Sure, so let’s go deeper into your values and how you think. What are the biggest lies your industry tells itself?
The Creator industry says:
• Burnout is a badge of honor.
• Exposure pays the bills. Gifting is generous.
• Virality equals value. Follower count equals worth.
• If you’re not monetizing every moment, you’re wasting it.
• If you rest, you’re replaceable.
Our industry loves to sell the dream—freedom, flexibility, fame. But most of the time, that dream is built on unpaid labor, constant reinvention, and the unspoken expectation that we should feel lucky just to be here. The highlight reel rarely shows the full-time hustle behind it.
We glamorize burnout. Package chaos as connection. “Be real,” they say, but only if it’s on brand. Only if it converts. Success is painted as a single post away. But in reality, it’s a slow burn—if it ever catches at all.
I’ve been creating full-time since 2020. Posting consistently. Showing up across every platform. I’ve poured thousands of hours into self-teaching—filming, editing, designing, pitching, negotiating, planning, strategizing. I’ve invested in courses, gear, growth. Built a loyal 100k+ community from scratch.
I don’t wait for collabs to land in my lap. I’m proactive in pitching, following up, scouting sponsorship platforms, proper tagging, negotiating terms and building real relationships behind the scenes.
And still? I don’t always get invited to events, brand trips or Creator programs. And more often than not, I receive far more PR than actual paychecks.
That’s not a complaint, it’s a reality check. Behind every “yes” is a dozen unacknowledged pitches. I love what I do. I’m proud of the community I’ve built, the people I’ve connected with. And I deeply respect the brands who truly see and value the work.
Most of us are doing the job of entire teams—alone. Writing, filming, editing, strategizing, negotiating, reporting, posting across multiple platforms. We chase invoices, juggle deadlines, and are often expected to deliver faster than a brand’s own in-house team.
We’re reminded to be grateful for PR, and we are. But when you’re running a one-person production house, gratitude alone doesn’t cover the hours invested. Exposure doesn’t pay rent. And a mascara won’t make up for labor that deserves compensation.
We don’t talk enough about what it really takes. The money. The privilege. The time to experiment. You can be talented and consistent and still feel invisible—especially if you’re not in LA or New York, don’t have a manager, or aren’t trending that week. Virality isn’t just talent. It’s timing, proximity, and a thousand invisible strings pulling behind the screen.
So many creators are building magic in bedrooms they can barely afford, hoping one reel hits before burnout does. This space isn’t always an equal playing field. The best creators I know aren’t chasing virality, they’re building longevity. With boundaries. With purpose. With enough distance from the screen to actually live the story they’re telling.
Not everything that matters goes viral. Not every creator who deserves a seat at the table has one yet. Some of the most meaningful growth is invisible, happening off-screen in the quiet work no one claps for.
Because here’s the truth: anyone can create, but not everyone can afford to.
Before we go, we’d love to hear your thoughts on some longer-run, legacy type questions. What light inside you have you been dimming?
I think I’ve spent the last few years building a world I’m proud of—only to realize I’ve been quietly dimming the parts of me that wanted more. More play. More partnerships. More storytelling beyond the screen.
Before content creation, there was theater. I grew up acting onstage through middle school, high school, and college. I dabbled in drama classes, performed in plays, lost myself in roles and found new parts of myself in the process. I made people feel. And in the wings of those small stages, I started to flirt with the idea of being on the big screen.
But somewhere along the way, I convinced myself it was too late to pivot. Too impractical. Too far from what I’d already built. So I shelved that part of me—the one that craved a bigger stage. Quietly, but constantly.
Lately, I’ve been letting that light back in. Since I started teasing the idea on TikTok with acting voiceovers again. I’ve been exploring again. The desire to act, to tell stories beyond a 60-second frame. To play with long-form. To be part of something bigger than myself. I’ve been researching reels, building a resume, exploring local productions and casting calls. Slowly building a resume and revisiting a side of myself I thought I outgrew.
Behind the scenes, I’ve been writing again. Whole worlds. Alternate universes. Entire timelines. Characters who live in my laptop and sometimes come to life in steamy, sacred, soul-twisting stories. Maybe they belong in a book. Maybe in a script. Maybe I’ll play a few of them myself.
TV, film, long-form storytelling—I don’t know where it’ll lead, but I’ve stopped pretending I’m not still flirting with the idea of being both on and behind the big screen. Not announcing a pivot, just answering a pulse I never let go of.
And lately? I’ve also been wondering what it might look like to sit on the other side of the brand table. Not just partnering as a creator, but helping shape campaigns from within. Maybe as a Partnerships Coordinator. Building strategy, pitching talent, and bridging the gap between creators and brands that actually get it. I’ve worn every hat as a creator—pitching, negotiating, launching, learning. And the idea of championing creators from the inside? That lights something up too.
I don’t know exactly what shape all this takes yet, but I’ve stopped dimming those lights just because I couldn’t see the entire path.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://tiktoktare.com/brand-home
- Instagram: https://instagram.com/tiktoktare
- Linkedin: https://linkedin.com/in/tarynlewis
- Twitter: https://twitter.com/tarynxlewis
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/tiktoktare
- Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@tarynxlewis
- Other: TikTok: https://tiktok.com/@tiktoktare
Image Credits
@vb2photography Virginia Bessette
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