The Boxes We Build and the Traps They Create

I recently posted on social media that I plan to share more content in addition to the parenting content you know me for. This may not seem like a big deal, but I was really afraid to say it out loud. My fears sounded something like this:

If you’re not constantly sharing about parenting, people will leave.

You can only speak on topics where you hold expertise.

People only want parenting support. Stay in your lane.

Your business will suffer if you confuse your audience.

When I shared the post, many people, especially those close to me, loved it. They expressed support and excitement around the idea that I’ll share more.

Thus far, that’s exactly what Substack has been for me (hence the name The Parenting and Life Reframe). A space for me to step out of my self-imposed box—or cage—and share from the heart.

But over in the world of TikTok, every time I share something that’s not specific to solving a parenting problem, my views drop and engagement is almost nonexistent.

The Gremlins—these are the voices in our heads that usually try to keep us small and afraid, so we resist growing and taking chances—immediately started chirping.

See, you’re confusing your audience. No one cares about the brands you like or the insights you find grounding or helpful.

When the Gremlins attack, I look for evidence to support their claims.

For example, I follow a breathwork practitioner on TikTok who I love. She always shares quick breathwork practices on her page, and I genuinely find them so helpful. She recently shared that she’ll start posting more than just breathing exercises. My investigative skills took over, and I searched her profile to see how these newer posts performed. Those videos got little to no engagement.

I also follow a chef who started off creating videos about the meals he prepares for the family he works for as a private chef. I love his videos and his recipes. When he departed from this format—the meals he prepares each day—his engagement also dropped.

It left me wondering: Why do we box ourselves in? And why do we box others in?

And we do this in parenting, too. We build boxes around what it means to be a “good” mom or dad. I should be more patient. I should enjoy this more. I should be able to handle this. We build boxes around our kids, too. My child should behave this way. They should make these choices. Their path should look the way I imagined it would. And without realizing it, we can start measuring ourselves—and our children—against the walls of a box we created.

The people who inspire me have so much wisdom and so many gifts to share. They don’t tell themselves, I can only share on this one topic because it’s what I’m degreed in. They show up freely and honestly. They impart their wisdom and don’t require permission. It’s refreshing.

I was talking to an old acquaintance recently, and he said, “Oh, you’re an influencer.”

I was immediately taken aback. “No, that’s not what I am,” I said.

Then I was telling a friend about this idea of being an influencer, and she asked, “Why can’t you own that? You influence people with your voice and writing. We all influence people in one way or another. Take the shadow out of that word. Stand in your truth and allow your influence to be aligned. Don’t hide.”

Then I had a session with my good friend and medium, Jenn Tilton. She’s fantastic. And she told me I’m overcomplicating it.

Share simple things, she said. Let people in; that’s the ask. Stop hiding inside the box you created (aka, parenting expert). People don’t box us in; we do.

She’s right.

I kept looking for proof that if I stepped outside of the box I created, no one would like me. My so-called proof confirmed my fears, and the loop continued.

Once I saw this—that I was the one perpetuating this narrative—I couldn’t unsee it.

Even as I write this, I want someone to give me permission and say, It’s okay to share the wisdom you carry. It’s okay to talk about insights that helped you shift your perspective. It’s okay to talk about how you practice living a soul-led life. It’s okay for your work to live at the intersection of parenting and life.

When I noticed myself getting in the way and hesitating every time I went to share or create something that didn’t necessarily fall under the parenting umbrella, I paused.

Yes, this is where PARR is useful in all aspects of our lives.

I acknowledged that this feels uncomfortable and that I feel vulnerable. Then I responded and took aligned action. Do the thing that feels scary, I said. It’s a need.

As I reflected, the last step in PARR, I could see how I was letting this false narrative govern my decisions. The story that if I share beyond what I’m known for, people will leave. That I’m not safe to express these parts of myself.

The more I share—and it’s still a work in progress—the easier it gets. The Gremlins get quieter, and the process feels easier. I can spot the story, and because I can spot it, I’m no longer as reactive to it.

I also realized something else: When we are in the throes of fear, we can’t always trust what we see.

In my case, when I look now at the two creators who seemed boxed in, I was actually wrong about what happened when they shared more. Once I looked a little deeper, I found that they gained a more aligned audience and, over time, their engagement grew.

When I interviewed Judith Curr (the celebrated president and publisher of HarperOne, who recently retired) about creativity and parenting our ideas, she shared an interesting insight. She said people often come to her with ideas and say things like, “Let’s think outside the box.” Her reply is: If we’re always encouraging people to think outside the box, maybe we should build better boxes.

Maybe I, too, need to build a better box.

One that says I don’t have to overthink and second-guess everything. One that listens to my gut and allows me to share the insights that feel like they need to be shared.

Perhaps my box needs to expand, which means there will inevitably be growing pains. But pain and discomfort aren’t meant to be avoided. They’re meant to be confronted with love.

Maybe my box needs to be made of a flexible, fluid material that stays adaptable and reminds me: It’s okay to grow. It’s okay to change. And as you do, you’ll keep building a better box.

Where in your life have you boxed yourself in? Where and how can you build a better box?

Love always,

Albiona