What Happens When You Leave Social Media as a Writer and Coach
And why you might want to, too
During the month of June, I did something I never imagined I’d do: I stopped posting on social media as a professional.
No new Instagram reels, no fresh Facebook updates about my work as an author and trauma-informed coach, no posting on stories about marathon training runs or the sun-warmed pile of 💩 my beagle rolled in outside. Just… quiet.
To be clear, I didn’t disappear from the internet entirely. I still scrolled on my personal profiles (mostly animal videos—some habits die hard). But I deleted the apps from my phone and intentionally stepped back from all of my work-related profiles to so I could sit with a question I’ve been circling for years:
Do I really want or need to rely on social media to share my work, grow my business, and connect with people?
More and more, I’ve been feeling the dissonance between a eucharistic, incarnational faith—one rooted in presence, embodiment, and sacramental reality—and the disembodied, frenetic nature of digital platforms. So I took a break.
If you’re an author, creative, or service provider, you’ve probably asked yourself similar questions at some point. Maybe you’re exhausted by the pressure to churn out bite-sized content all the live-long day. Maybe you sense the trade-offs to your creativity, mental health, or even the depth of your professional relationships. For some of us (myself included), the question is complicated by the reality that stepping away from social media can mean at least a temporary loss of income or clients—in fields that aren’t exactly known for their financial stability to begin with.
Today I’d like to share why I decided to take this pause and what I’m exploring instead. I’m still very much in the midst of this shift, so I don’t have all the answers. But maybe it helps to hear from someone who’s in the trenches. If you’re also wondering whether there’s another way to build a career beyond the algorithm, I hope you’ll find some encouragement here as you continue discerning what will work best for your unique situation.
Do I really want or need to rely on social media to share my work, grow my business, and connect with people?
Why I Started Questioning My Reliance on Social Media
Like most millennials, I started my career just as social media was becoming ubiquitous. Facebook opened to the public the same year I graduated college and followed me through graduate school, my early professional life, and beyond. I’ve never known what it’s like to build a career (or an adult life) without it. Sometimes I wonder what professional or personal skills I never really developed because so much of what I’ve learned has revolved around curating digital spaces.
At the same time, my participation in social media has brought some incredible benefits over the years:
It’s how I’ve broadened and maintained my professional and personal networks.
It gave me valuable experience managing social media accounts for organizations and freelance clients, skills that supported both my income and career development.
It’s where I’ve built communities of readers and listeners around my books and podcasts.
It’s how many coaching clients discovered my work or built enough trust to reach out for support.
It provided a platform to test ideas and gauge interest in offerings like group coaching programs.
It offered a fun, slice-of-life connection with other writers, coaches, and readers.
All these benefits essentially tie back to two values: people and personal growth. What made social media feel worthwhile was the way it connected me with other living, breathing humans and helped me grow in my skills and vocation.
But even these redeeming aspects have raised increasingly serious questions. In the faith tradition I call home, communion and community aren’t something we manufacture or consume to meet our needs—they’re a way of being. A continual turning toward real, holistic connection and away from disembodiment, isolation, and self-focus. Social media can mimic that connection, but for me, it has begun to feel like a hollow substitute that masks my need for anything deeper.
Then there’s the sheer fatigue of showing up online all the time. While I’m hardly as prolific as many content creators, there is still a real pressure to be constantly producing short-form content just to stay visible—or financially afloat. This pressure has accelerated over the past couple of years, as Instagram and other platforms have made massive changes to what content formats they feature and prioritize, leaving creators scrambling to keep up, adapt to new trends, and flatten our creativity in ever more constricting ways.
Like most millennials, I started my career just as social media was becoming ubiquitous. Facebook opened to the public the same year I graduated college and followed me through graduate school, my early professional life, and beyond. I’ve never known what it’s like to build a career (or an adult life) without it. Sometimes I wonder what professional or personal skills I never really developed because so much of what I’ve learned has revolved around curating digital spaces.
Even when my posts “performed well,” or it seemed my content was helping others, my lowest moods often coincided with my most fruitful posting seasons. Instead of feeling a sense of accomplishment from my work, I just felt disconnected and tired.
It wasn’t only burnout—it was the fact I was constantly adapting my voice to fit a system designed to reward consumption over relationship, metrics over substance, and entertainment over true learning.
I stuck around mostly because until recently, it seemed like I didn’t have a choice. I am an author, and book publishers have traditionally insisted that authors maintain sizable platforms. Plus, something like a third of my new coaching clients find me through social media—something I’m not in a financial position to abandon easily, if at all.
Yet when I coach trauma survivors, we often talk about the importance of creating choices and saying no, especially when it feels like you don’t have any. Taking a break from social media was my way of practicing what I preach: stepping back to see if there are other paths I hadn’t considered.
I stuck around on social media mostly because until recently, it seemed like I didn’t have a choice.
What I Learned in June (and What I Didn’t)
I wish I could say this month off gave me some profound new insight or a perfect blueprint for the future. The truth is simpler:
I didn’t learn anything I didn’t already suspect.
Really, the time off just gave me a chance to wrap my head around the fact that social media, while helpful at times, is no longer the right primary platform for my work.
To let myself accept that the more time I spend in digital spaces, the harder it is to inhabit the slow, attentive posture that my faith invites and my creative professional self thrives on—an orientation toward prayer, stillness, and embodied presence. It also becomes harder to help others (through my writing and coaching) inhabit that kind of life for themselves.
Throughout the month, I leaned into stories, podcasts (I’ll list a few further on), and other resources from people who are further down the path of this pivot than I am. How are they building communities around their work off social? How are they navigating any income loss or other setbacks that this kind of shift entails? I’m still learning from these people, but am extremely thankful for the wisdom they’ve shared.
The more time I spend in digital spaces, the harder it is to inhabit the slow, attentive posture that my faith invites and my creative professional self thrives on
Do publishers et al. still insist on authors having huge social media followings? Maybe some of them do, but I also think many industries are realizing the serious personal, social, and societal detriments of long-term social media use. And maybe it’s possible to be part of that shift rather than waiting around for it to happen.
What’s Next for My Work
Here’s what you can expect from me moving forward—and a few ideas that might help you rethink your own digital presence.
1. Gradually decommissioning public social media pages.
I won’t be deleting my Instagram or Facebook entirely, at least not yet, but I will be taking down most of the content. In its place, I’ll post a static “calling card” grid (I love Deanna Seymour’s guide to static 9-square grids) so people can still find basic info and links.
If you’re not ready to delete your profiles but don’t want the pressure of constant posting, this can be a great in-between step. It gives folks who try to find you on social media a landing spot, while also sending the clear signal that you do not post regularly, and there are other ways to connect with you.
2. Refocusing on long-form writing.
Social media never rewarded my best work. For now, Substack, newsletters, blog posts, podcasts and submitting my work for publication again allow for deeper reflection and more satisfying conversations. I’m also committing to regularly re-visiting my relationship with these channels and shifting things as needed, rather than looking to one particular platform as the holy grail of how I show up professionally.
For those of us who feel frustrated and sort of chronically discombobulated by the superficiality of short-form, maybe we can consider returning to formats that not only honour the depth of our work, but offer platforms where we continue learning to hone our craft.
3. Staying in touch via email.
I’ll continue sending out my coaching newsletter on Mailchimp and writing regularly here on Substack.
If you want to keep up with my thoughts on trauma-informed living, creativity, and spiritual growth, you’ll find them in your inbox—not your feed.
4. Updating my website.
I’m working on some slight updates to my website to make it more user-friendly so prospective clients and readers can connect with me and more readily find the information they might be looking for.
5. Building community beyond the algorithm.
Podcasts like Writing Off Social and Off the Grid have been super helpful as I explore alternatives. This toolkit with creative marketing ideas and 100 ways to share your work & life off social media is also great!
In the future, I hope to experiment more with webinars, live calls, and other formats that encourage real dialogue.
6. AND: Launching a new podcast!!!
Also, this September, I’m launching a new podcast with a therapist friend. It’s been a few years since I’ve had an active podcast, but I miss the way that medium allows for the kind of long-form conversations social media often crowds out.
I can’t say much more about this right now, but if you’d be interested in deeper conversations about healing and trauma in the Church, stay tuned—we plan to share more details in August, and I’ll definitely include those updates on Substack.
Tips If You’re Considering a Similar Break
I’m still in the trenches of this shift, so this is very much in-process learning. Still, if you’re thinking about stepping back from social media as a creative entrepreneur—or stepping away entirely—here are a few things I’d share with my past self:
You don’t have to disappear overnight. A gradual transition gives you time to test other channels and reassure your audience. For now, it might be enough to simply acknowledge your growing questions or fatigue.
Not everything needs an immediate replacement. Sometimes you’ll simply pause, reflect, and allow clarity to emerge over time.
Don’t burn down the house (yet). Don’t let a hard day, week, or month tempt you to burn the whole thing down on the spot. Resist the urge to delete your profiles in a moment of rage. Even if your platforms are, as these things go, on the smaller side (mine are!), you still worked hard to build them, and people still care about your work and where you’re going. If you are a service provider, it’s also good practice to give people some insight into why you’re choosing to no longer show up in a space where they may have derived a sense of support from your work. So take some time off, feel the feelings, and when you’re ready to think constructively about the future, let people know what to expect and why.
Be honest with your audience. When I announced my break from social media last month, I explained how Instagram had become a net negative for my mental health. The vast majority of people were supportive. I learned that I don’t have to have all my ducks in a row to let my communities know what’s going on.
Remember why you started. Most of us didn’t begin writing, coaching, or creating because we loved content calendars or the mercurial whims of an algorithm expertly manufactured to foster addiction and scarcity. We started because we believed in the intrinsic value of helping people and exploring ideas. Social media is just one of many vehicles to do that—it’s never been the destination. We’re not betraying ourselves or our values by quitting social media, rather we’re shifting to re-invest our creativity and expertise in a more diverse array of modes that better serve people’s needs (including our own), community, and human flourishing.
Save everything. Before deleting anything, save it—download posts, save text captions, and if you can, download any spreadsheet of followers and email addresses (Substack allows this but Instagram and Facebook do not). You may not think that random post you made three years ago will come in handy anywhere else, but you also might be mistaken. You can start doing a lot of this preservation work long before you figure out if or how you want to leave social media so you won’t have to do it later.
Make it easy to stay connected elsewhere. Update your website, email list, and any platforms where people can keep in touch.
Finally…
Stepping back from social media doesn’t mean stepping back from your work. If anything, this month reminded me how much more energy and creativity I have when I’m not constantly adapting myself to an algorithm.
If you’ve been feeling that same tug—toward quieter spaces, deeper work, and more intentional community—I hope you’ll honor it. You do have options. Even when it doesn’t feel that way.
Thanks for being part of my journey. I’m excited to see where this next chapter takes us.
If you’d like to keep in touch:
Subscribe to my Substack—moving forward, I’ll continue to be intentional about sharing important updates both in my posts and on notes.
Join my coaching newsletter —you don’t need to be a past or current client to subscribe! You just have to want a monthly reflection on topics that emerge in my work with clients in your inbox.
Check out my writing or my store, filled with trauma-informed resources for writers and survivors
Got a blog or podcast that pertains to faith, writing, coaching or trauma-informed theology? Let me know if you’d ever like to have me as a guest!
Ready to build a more sustainable professional and creative life beyond social media? You’re not alone—and you don’t have to do it all at once.
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This post has been lightly copy edited by Chat GPT.
Really appreciate your decision!!
As someone suffering from social media fatigue I can't thank you enough for this!💜