The Push & Pull Of Being Seen.

I've been thinking a lot about visibility—what it means, how it feels, and the pressure that comes with it. For years, I thought that to build something meaningful, I had to be 'on' all the time. Always sharing. Always showing up. But recently, I’ve started to question that.

These are my musings and where I’m at with visibility now.

Kim Palmer - Founder, Clementine.

Some days, I want to be seen. Other days, I’d rather melt into the background. And for a long time, I thought that was a problem. That if I wanted to build something meaningful - something that actually made an impact - I had to always be on.

Before Clementine, I was a lurker. Full-time. I had thoughts, opinions, things I wanted to say, but... Who was I to share them? Who cares what I think? LinkedIn was for the experts. The ones who had shiny job titles and big voices and confidence spilling out of their pockets. I was fine just watching. Consuming. Leaving the sharing to them.

And then Clementine happened. And suddenly, my WHY mattered. It wasn’t just about what we were building, it was about why we were building it. And the agency helping with the brand asked me a question I wasn’t ready for… Are you willing to be part of the story? Would I put myself on the website? Show my face? Share my words? I cringed. Hard no. Absolutely not.

But I sat with it. Because deep down, I knew they were right. And so, I started small. Instagram. A little rambling here, a selfie there. No strategy, no agenda, just testing the waters. We sought out press opportunities. We pitched Clementine. And what landed? Not just the app, but the story behind it. The WHY. Having a mental health breakdown helped me build an app. My messy, personal, truth.

And it worked. The more I shared, the more people connected. The more doors opened. The more visibility pushed Clementine forward. And for a while, it felt... good. Natural, even. Until it didn’t. Until the pressure crept in. Until sharing became an expectation rather than an instinct.

I’d wake up and think, I should post something today. But the words felt forced. And forced words are crap words. So I’d avoid it. Then feel guilty. Then force it anyway. A vicious cycle of obligation and exhaustion.

And then, this week, I had a moment. A realisation. I was at an event, feeling good, talking, sharing, being fully on. And someone asked— Is your invisibility cloak on or off? And it hit me.

That day? My cloak was off. I was present, engaged, visible. But I already knew that tomorrow, and probably for the next few days after, I’d need to wrap myself back up in it. To retreat. To breathe. To just be for a bit.

And that’s okay.

Because visibility isn’t an obligation. It’s a choice. And I get to choose.

You do, too.