When this began, I didn’t know what an “influencer” was. The meanings of “follow,” “like,” and “hashtag” weren’t part of my vernacular, and 2 p.m. was just an empty space between personal training clients. When this began, I also lived in fear of “dementors”—my affectionate name for the depression that had been a life long companion.
While the fitness and wellness pseudo-gurus were swallowing the fitness industry whole—I was in Largo, Florida, showing up at the gym at 6 a.m. every day. Coffee in hand. Hugs ready. Working with real humans.
My mission was—and still is—to build humans from the inside out. The human body is the most complex piece of machinery ever crafted. Deserving of respect, love, and genuine care. Pillars that have been pillaged for the likes of picture-perfect, post-ready routines.
Running a full-time personal training business while wrapping up a B.A. in Digital and Mass Media Communications stripped me bare. What I expected to be little more than a credential became something far more valuable. It revealed a truth that I was hard pressed to ignore—I had an unbreakable love for humans and the stories hidden in their, seemingly, too-tight bindings. Transformation lived there—in metaphors, hero arcs, and love stories still unfolding.
When practiced with love, objectivity, and empathy, communication transforms from a task into a tool. It forges bonds that become our antidote in a world driven by division. Communication is a foundational practice—a reminder of the power of human connection. And yet, it’s what we seem to be missing most: the willingness, the want, to connect—to be seen and heard as human beyond the barrier of screens and feeds.
Social media has the power to fulfill one of our most primal human needs: connection. Without it, we wilt like an unloved houseplant, sentenced to solitude without a lick of sunshine.
We’ve all been there. We’ve been that houseplant in the corner, bruising our leaves trying to reach for light. Reaching to be remembered, watered, and given oxygen. Wondering what the point is—being something so beautiful left in the dark.
My personal battle with dementors isn’t locked in a Chamber of Secrets—it lives online. I went from proclaiming my distaste for humans—something all too common in the internet era—to sharing my journey publicly, knowing that there were human beings behind those usernames. People searching for something they were having a hard time finding in real life.
Each lecture felt like a fatigued mirror reflecting blatant errors in media. The exasperation in my professors’ voices was palpable. Evident of our de-evolution as a culture. There was a moment in one of my classes—Media Ethics–a class most ironic amidst the 2016 election—when everything clicked.
He asked the class, “What is the role of the journalist?”
My hand sprung up so fast, I winced at the twinge of pain from that mornings training session. “The journalist is the business of humanity,” I told my professor. “It’s our job to share stories and connect people, to make sure those stories are heard.”
He paused, considered, and said, “Exactly.”
I couldn’t hit the keyboard fast enough. I knew that and invitation for genuine human connection lay before me, I just needed to unlock the door. It wasn’t about how many people read it or liked it—it was about striking the match to stoke a fire that could provide warmth to someone else.
Each time I peeled back another layer of my journey, messages poured in. People thanking me for “being vulnerable.” For being “brave.” And I was baffled.
I can’t be the only one.
The posts became more real. The message, clearer. Every day between ‘flients,’ I would write, connect, and share with humans. Yes, real-life people. The ones quietly suffering on the outskirts. The ones who “get it,” but don’t want to “sound crazy.” The ones waiting for someone—lovingly—to start the conversation.
We scroll through our days, double-tapping what we like and swiping left on what we don’t. Refreshing screens for red-tabbed notifications that temporarily validate our lives.
But what if we stopped scrolling and started connecting? What if we asked, “How are you, really?” and dared to prompt the larger questions of life?
What if we used social media to start conversations about mental health and the power of love, to promote real, impactful change?
This tool we’ve uncovered—bruised and beaten by the worst parts of society—deserves a facelift. It’s time to take social media back from bots, booties, and breast implants.
Let’s make socials a place to actually be social. A space for evolution, mutual growth, and positivity. A place where stories are shared, respected, and heard.
It’s more than the metrics we obsess over. It’s about humans finally receiving what we’ve needed all along—a pseudo-watering hole that connects us through shared interests.
It’s time to shift our interests from viral videos to a very real virus. According to the AFSP, in 2017 there were nearly 1.3 million suicide attempts in the United States. Suicide remains the 10th leading cause of death.
Some headlines include children as young as nine years old. Regardless of the trigger, the root cause is often the same: overwhelming darkness, feeling misunderstood, or having no one to talk to—judgment-free.
We can raise “awareness” until we’re blue in the face, but in my heart, it’s time for more. It’s time to test this world-shaking tool and use it to take action. It’s time to remind the people behind the usernames of what connects us at our core.
The need to love and be loved. Every human deserves to know they’re worthy of evolution, change, and growth. Your dementors are only here to show you how magical you are.
Like a sorcerer’s stone, your magic may have been buried—and placed in the wrong hands—for far too long. But it’s yours to reclaim. Dust it off. Take it back. Know that you can conquer every hurdle and show up for life with focus, dedication, and optimism.
This is my WHY. If I could give back even half of what this journey has given me, it still wouldn’t be enough. Every human who encounters Human Builder will be reminded of their worth. They will know—if only for a moment—that they aren’t crazy, and someone out there really does “get it.”
My WHY is to be the person I wish I had when things were at their worst. To connect authentically, educate humans around the world, and create a program that offers actionable steps to defeat dementors—both in and out of the gym—with the intention of helping prevent suicide from going any more viral.
