Not so subtle flex, but I was doing the whole “influencer” thing before most of you even knew what that term meant. AKA, I walked so the 20-billion-dollar influencer industry could run. Just kidding.
In all seriousness, I was an early adopter of the Instagram blogging phenomenon. In September of 2017, I had just started my freshman year at the University of Michigan. I was insanely homesick, so I flew home hundreds of miles within my first few weeks (as one does lol). I vividly remember laying in one of my best friend’s beds, telling her I wanted to embark on this new endeavor.
Exploding with a combination of excitement and nerves, we sat for hours pondering what the name would be. After a whole night’s worth of contemplation, I landed on “Rockitlikeroz,” a cute and clever riff on my last name.
What had started as a kitschy username soon developed into an all-consuming identity. When I returned to Ann Arbor, people started referring to me as “Rock It.” Some people legitimately thought my name was “Roz.” The whole thing was entirely innocent, and I was totally flattered by how receptive and supportive people were being. I was a tiny fish in a giant Long Island-infested pond — if this was the thing that was going to make me stand out, then so be it.
As Amy, I was wildly uncomfortable in my own body — an awkward girl ridden with so much social anxiety to the point where I barely spoke more than four words. But there was something so transformative about my newfound alias, almost magical. The second I put on my second skin, I metamorphosed into this larger-than-life figure who radiated confidence in whatever room she walked into. I no longer struggled with the problems that had once plagued me — I was Rockitlikeroz, and I was unstoppable.
Not to be all Hannah Montana, but I literally was living a double life. Some would argue I had the best of both worlds, but in reality, it was quite the opposite. I had zero control over when Rockitlikeroz would disappear. Just when I thought I could take on the world, boring ol’ Amy would swoop right in. It was almost like Sunday at 6 PM — you had the sickest weekend of your life, but then the scaries would creep up on you. Trust me. They were not shy. The comedown was unbearable. The more I leaned into her, the more and more I was uncomfortable with just being me. It was like a drug — I depended on my alter ego to survive. Don’t do drugs, kids.
Looking back, I come to realize I wasn’t ever actually Rockitlikeroz. She was a role I played, a performance I put on to trick the outside world that I was enough. To trick myself that I was enough. If I hid behind this formidable facade, I didn’t have to face the crippling body image issues, the extraordinarily low self-esteem and the undeniable lack of self-love.
What was once intended to represent my most authentic self — my love for fashion, my eye for photography and content creation, my desire to story-tell — was ironically the least authentic thing about me. Until this day, I still struggle to come to terms with the fact that Rockitlikeroz never existed. She was a figment of my imagination. A security blanket, a shield I needed to cope with my own inner demons.
Let’s cut to the chase. Rockitlikeroz was a big fat LIE.
Fast forward, and I wish I could tell you there was this dramatic “Ah ha” moment like you see in the movies. That pivotal life event that made me realize my second self no longer served me — I was worthy, just by being myself. But let’s be real, this isn’t Disney Channel. That shit doesn’t happen in the real world. All I can say is that it was a process. Yes, my journey toward self-love took hard work and determination (and lots and lots of therapy), but the shift also happened somewhat organically. Sometimes, just the mere act of living — and I mean really living — allows us to become our most honest selves.
So, as I went to pull down my mask, to reveal I was in fact just a mortal and not the ever-so-powerful Wizard of Roz, there was no mask left to pull down. In a fleeting moment unbeknownst to me, my old friend quietly stood up and left all by herself.