In 2020, I joined a writing group that still meets today. If you had asked a former draft-version of me whether I’d ever be part of something like that, I would’ve laughed. No way. Too introverted. Too skeptical.

But it ended up being life-changing.

Then they encouraged me to join Instagram.

Cue the ughhh.

I hated social media. I’d been off the grid since I quit MySpace (and if you know MySpace, we’re automatically friends). There had been some fun at FictionPress starting in 2004 and a few attempts at truly terrible blogs, but mostly I stayed away.

Then I became a psychiatrist and decided I really didn’t want any kind of online presence. But the message was clear: you can’t be a writer without social media.

Again: ughhh.

Still, I gave it a try.

When It Was Good

At first, I stayed anonymous. Then I discovered hashtags, writing challenges, and something unexpected: connection.

Before long, I had about a thousand followers. I made real friendships. I flew across the country to meet some of them. I learned, grew, and found a community that felt supportive, generous, and alive.

So . . . why did I quit?

1. I Couldn’t Sustain Being “That Person” for Everyone

I’m a helper by nature. When I follow someone, I want to show up for them—fully.

That meant:

• Liking and commenting on every post

• Reading their books

• Writing reviews

• Sharing their news

• Showing up when they needed support

  
  

Multiply that by a thousand people.

Logically, that’s ridiculous. But emotionally? I couldn’t reconcile it. I didn’t know how to choose who to show up for and who not to. Saying no, or even just not engaging, felt like letting people down.

For some, this might sound trivial. For me, it wasn’t. It was exhausting.

2. The Comparison Trap

How did I end up comparing myself to hockey wives and girlfriends?

Please make it make sense.

3. Information Overload

The world is a lot.

And Instagram delivers it all, curated, amplified, and constant. I didn’t want an algorithm deciding what I consumed. I wanted to choose what entered my mind, my space, my day.

So I Took a BREAK.

I told myself it was temporary.

I’d pause, reset, come back with boundaries. Limits. A healthier relationship with it all. I could do this, be normal on social media!

But what I found on the other side surprised me.

What Happened When I Left

• My mind felt quieter

• My nervous system settled

• I had more time. Real, usable time

  
  

And I didn’t want to give that up. I deleted my account.

What I Was Afraid Would Happen

• I’d lose my writing community

• I’d miss out on everything

• I’d become irrelevant

• I’d lose motivation to create

What Actually Happened

• I deepened my relationships

• I understood myself better

• I started two businesses

• I kept writing. And publishing

• I was accepted into a writing fellowship

So . . . Why Come Back?

Here’s the honest answer:

Not to be social. Not to perform. Not even primarily to promote (though yes, I am a business owner). I came back because Instagram can be a bridge—a way to connect my work with the people who might need it.

That’s it.

Why I’m Really Here

I’m not a superficial person. I care about depth. About meaning. About honest conversations that cut through the BS.

That’s why I write here.

And that’s why I’ll always say: if something resonates, you can reach out. Send an email. Start a conversation. Or don’t.

That’s the beauty of this space. Zero pressure to engage, to heart and comment and share. No algorithm to satisfy. You can simply read with your coffee, or your wine, feel something shift, soften, or spark, and then return to your own beautiful, complicated, messy draft of your life that you are creating.

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