Despite the staggering tragedy-like elements of the lives of many famous people, it remains something many of us seek as a high[est] priority. We probably feed ourselves lies like,
Naw, that won’t happen to me.
I’d be happy with just a thousand more followers……then a thousand more…..
My brain wouldn’t be messed up by millions of adoring fans; I’m sure it would feel great!
The thing I’ve told everyone who asks me about the experience of being famous — and I never ever swear — is pretty simple:
Fame f’s with your head.
Other side effects which you may not have thought about are things like:
Commitment issues: Since you know everyone is throwing themselves at you, no one is ever good enough. Found someone who likes you? Well, there are probably better-looking ones out there among your horde of thousands of followers. Ever wonder why the celebrity divorce rate is so high?
An ever-growing feeling of inferiority: Your last Instagram post didn’t get as many as the one before it? Uh-ohhhh…someone is slipping quietly into obscurity. There are 100 people who will take your place tomorrow.
Comparison and envy: You may have gotten 5 million views yesterday, but Jim just dropped a new video and it already has 7. Now we hate Jim but we also wish we were him. Returning to the attention of the public becomes an obsession.
Shame: In addition to mean articles and hateful comments about you, you become even more of your own worst critic. You beg yourself questions such as, Why would anyone follow me anyway? I’m worthless. I don’t have as many followers as Catelyn and she’s skinnier and had better hair and I’m not talented like her and…….
Your fame becomes your identity: Three years later, it’s hard to not try to associate myself as ‘the shirtless jogger.’ That’s the reason people started to care about me, so that must be all I am. That must be the only thing to give me value.
Pride: In psychology, it’s called the Spotlight Phenomenon. You think everyone is talking/thinking about you every second of every day. Forget intimacy when you have ego.
Fake friends: Everyone suddenly wants to be associated with the ‘famous’ person.
In light of the title of this blog, it’s true. Fame messed me up pretty bad, and I wasn’t even famous famous. I was just viral for a few days. And ironically, all the messing with my head worsened my struggle against porn rather than help it get better.
Don’t long for fame. Don’t long for your head to be f’ed with. Recognize that you’re already loved and accepted by the only One who really matters; the only One who will never click Unfollow. The One who died just so He could be with you for all of eternity.
May we be people who remember that. May we be Christians who astound the world with our peace and identity whether we have 8 followers or 8 million. It’s harder than it sounds, but be content with where you are. With who you have. Life will be better.