Alright – so today we’ve got the honor of introducing you to Nayeli Benitez. We think you’ll enjoy our conversation, we’ve shared it below.

Hi Nayeli, thanks for joining us today. Are you happier as a creative? Do you sometimes think about what it would be like to just have a regular job? Can you talk to us about how you think through these emotions?

I am happy as a creative—it’s something that brings me joy, gives me freedom, and allows me to express myself in ways that feel natural. But if I’m being honest, it’s also the only real option for me. I’ve worked traditional full-time jobs before, and because of my disability, they weren’t sustainable. The rigid structure, long hours, and constant need to mask left me completely drained—physically, mentally, emotionally. I was burning out at a level that made it impossible to function outside of work. So while I love being a creative, it’s not just about passion—it’s about survival. It’s about creating a life that actually works for me.

The last time I really sat with this question, I was feeling overwhelmed trying to balance everything—my creative work, my mental health, my disability, my relationships, my social life. I was exhausted, and I found myself wondering, Would it be easier if I could just clock in somewhere, do my job, and come home? Would that give me more stability? More routine? But then I remembered—I’ve done that before, and it wasn’t just hard, it was impossible. I couldn’t just “leave work at work” because I had nothing left in me by the end of the day. The things that make me me—my creativity, my passions, my relationships—were always the first to suffer.

That’s when I had to remind myself: I am building something here. Even if it’s slow, even if it’s messy, even if I don’t always know what I’m doing. And part of that process has been learning to prioritize intentional rest—to stop seeing rest as something I have to “earn” and start recognizing it as something essential to my ability to function. I don’t have a traditional structure, but I’ve started building my own—one that includes space to recharge, to be present with the people I love, to actually enjoy what I do instead of constantly worrying about the next thing.

Right now, I’m in the early stages of figuring out what my creative career looks like. I’m working on growing my income, taking acting classes through EPIC (a nonprofit program that’s made it possible for me to explore something I’ve always dreamed of), and trying to trust that I’m on the right path. I won’t lie—it’s hard. I don’t make much from it yet, and I’m incredibly grateful for the support of my partner, Daniel, and my family. It’s a privilege I don’t take for granted, and I hope to reach a point where I can sustain myself fully through my work. But I also know that, for me, this is the best path forward.

So, am I happy as a creative? Yes. Even when it’s uncertain. Even when I question myself. Even when I wish things could be easier. I love what I do, and I love that I get to build a life that works for me. It’s not the easy path, but it’s my path—and that’s something worth holding onto.

Great, appreciate you sharing that with us. Before we ask you to share more of your insights, can you take a moment to introduce yourself and how you got to where you are today to our readers.

Hi, I’m Nayeli! I’m a content creator, artist, and storyteller who shares my life as a neurodivergent creative. My work is a mix of personal expression and community-building—I create art, share my experiences with autism and ADHD, and document the things that bring me joy, whether that’s reading, fidget toys, or everyday moments. My goal is to make people feel seen, understood, and less alone.

I started out selling stickers and small art pieces on Etsy, and while I still love creating, my focus has shifted toward content creation. I share across platforms like Instagram and YouTube, blending creativity with real-life experiences. I want my content to feel like a warm, inviting space—where people can connect, learn, and feel like they’re chatting with a friend.

Something I’m really proud of is how my work has naturally built a community of like-minded people. I never set out to be an “advocate,” but by being open about my experiences, I’ve been able to create conversations around disability, creativity, and finding ways to make life work on your own terms. I love when someone tells me they feel understood because of something I shared—that’s what keeps me going.

Right now, I’m exploring new creative outlets, including acting, which has been a lifelong dream of mine. I’m taking classes through EPIC, a nonprofit theater company for neurodivergent actors, and it’s been one of the most exciting and fulfilling experiences so far.

At the heart of everything I do—whether it’s art, content, or performing—is the belief that creativity should be accessible, self-expression should be celebrated, and rest should be seen as valuable, not something to feel guilty about. I don’t have it all figured out, but I’m grateful to be on this journey, and I hope my work continues to resonate with others who are finding their own way.

How did you build your audience on social media?

When I first started my Instagram account, I wasn’t trying to build an audience—I was trying to figure myself out. I had just been diagnosed as autistic at 26, and for most of my life, I had internalized so much self-doubt. I thought I was broken, lazy, incapable. My diagnosis gave me an explanation, but I was still processing what that meant for me. I wasn’t ready to share this part of myself publicly, so I created a private space just for me. I blocked almost everyone I knew, including my family, because I wanted to explore my identity without outside judgment. It was just a little corner of the internet where I could be open about what I was feeling—without worrying about people I knew in real life seeing it.

What I didn’t expect was that other people would resonate so deeply with what I was sharing. I started making connections with other autistic and neurodivergent people, and suddenly, I wasn’t just speaking into the void—I was part of a community. I met people who had gone through the same experiences, people who felt the same way I did growing up, and people who, for the first time, were also realizing they weren’t “broken”—just different in a way that deserved understanding and support.

Over time, this space that I had created just for myself became more than just a “secret” account—it became home. It was the first time I felt truly seen, not just by others, but by myself. Eventually, I realized I no longer felt the need to keep it separate from my real life. I slowly started unblocking the people I had originally hidden it from—not because I felt obligated to, but because I had grown more confident in my diagnosis, my identity, and the things I wanted to share. What started as a private bubble of self-discovery ended up becoming my primary and only account, and I think that says a lot about how much this journey has changed me.

Over time, my account grew, but my goal remained the same: to share my personal journey openly and honestly. I think that’s why my audience has stuck around. I’m not an expert, I don’t have everything figured out, and I never try to present myself as someone who does. I just share my experiences—the good, the bad, the confusing, the funny—because I know how lonely it can feel when you’re trying to understand yourself. If something I say helps even one person feel less alone, that makes it worth it.

Advice for those starting out: My biggest advice is to create from a place of authenticity. It’s easy to fall into the trap of trying to post what you think will perform well or what people expect from you, but the strongest connections come when you’re honest about who you are. You don’t have to be an expert, and you don’t have to have everything figured out. Just share what feels true to you.

And also, set boundaries early on. Social media can be overwhelming, and while engagement is important for growth, it’s not more important than your mental health. I’ve had to make a lot of choices to protect my peace—like limiting comments, filtering negativity, and taking breaks when needed. Sure, those things might slow down growth, but I’d rather have a healthy relationship with social media than an unsustainable one. Growth should never come at the cost of your well-being. The right audience will find you, and the people who truly connect with you won’t care about how often you post or how “optimized” your content is.

Have you ever had to pivot?

For a while, my content was heavily focused on autism. I didn’t set out to be an advocate, but as my account grew, I found myself trying to post more “educational” content. I think I felt a sense of responsibility because people were looking to me for information and guidance. And while I was always speaking from my own experience, I slowly started feeling like I had to “know” everything—like I had to have the right answers, the right explanations. The problem was, I don’t have all the answers. I’m not a doctor, I’m not a researcher—I’m just a person figuring things out like everyone else.

Over time, I started feeling weighed down by the expectation to educate. I was afraid of saying the wrong thing, of misrepresenting an experience that’s so vast and individualized. Autism isn’t one-size-fits-all, and no single person can represent an entire community. I never wanted to speak for others, but somehow, I felt like I had been placed in that role. And that pressure made me hesitant to post at all.

Looking back, I also realized that in those early days, I was speaking about autism in a way that wasn’t fully responsible. I was so passionate about this new understanding of myself that I wanted to share everything I was learning. But the reality is, autism is incredibly broad and nuanced, and I was speaking too confidently about things that extend far beyond my personal experience. Even though my intentions were good, I’ve come to understand that I can’t—and shouldn’t—try to speak for an entire community. That’s why I made the shift. It wasn’t just about protecting my own mental health, but also about making sure that the space I was creating was rooted in integrity. Now, I focus on sharing my experiences while also uplifting other autistic voices, because the reality is that no single person can represent such a vast spectrum. I’m grateful I was able to recognize this and adjust, and I hope my platform now reflects that growth. That shift wasn’t about stepping away from talking about autism—it was about doing so in a way that felt healthier and truer to me.

After about a year, I knew I needed to pivot. I set a firm boundary with myself and my audience that I would only speak about my experiences. I shifted my content away from broad educational posts and back to something more personal—sharing my own journey, my highs and lows, the things I love, and my evolving understanding of myself. That was a hard change to make because I worried about how people would react, but it was one of the best decisions for my mental health.

And honestly, that shift did come with challenges. I lost followers—probably a lot of people who originally followed for more structured educational content. Even now, months later, I’m in this weird plateau where my numbers fluctuate between rising and falling. And sure, there are moments where it’s frustrating, because social media is unpredictable, and it’s easy to tie success to numbers. But at the same time, I can see that I’m building something stronger. My engagement has risen, my connections with people feel more genuine, and my audience feels more aligned with the kind of space I want to create. So even when growth feels slow, I remind myself that staying true to who I am is worth it.

At the same time, I also had to pivot in how I managed social media as a whole. Growing an audience comes with challenges, and for me, it often triggered my OCD. I had to install boundaries—like limiting comments, restricting certain interactions, and filtering out negativity—even though I knew it could impact engagement. That’s something people don’t talk about enough. There’s a lot of pressure to be as accessible as possible online, to engage constantly, to always be “on.” But I had to remind myself that if I wanted to keep doing this long-term, I needed to build a space that felt safe and manageable for me.

I’ve seen people I admire step away or delete their accounts entirely because the pressure and negativity became too much. And I get it. There are moments when I think about what it would be like to just disappear from the internet entirely. But then I remind myself why I started this in the first place. I started this account for me, and I continue posting for the people who truly connect with what I share. It’s not about being perfect or knowing all the answers—it’s about being honest, being real, and showing up in a way that feels sustainable.

Now, I focus on sharing what feels right for me, without the pressure of constantly educating or performing for an audience. And that shift has not only made my content better—it’s made me feel better.

Contact Info:

• Instagram: @lifebynayeli
• Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@lifebynayeli
• Other: My Actor’s Access (new): https://resumes.actorsaccess.com/1290792-3710273

  – You don’t need to include it if it feels random.

  My Etsy Shop: https://www.etsy.com/shop/comewhatnay

Image Credits

my headshot with the brown background and blue top was taken by Jonathan Moore (@headshotsbyjmo), the photo of me singing in the purple dress was taken by Kevin Krause (@kevinmkrause) via the EPIC Players 90s Cabaret (@epicplayersla)