Hi, First Name

I have a complicated relationship with social media, and “complicated” might just be the most generous way to say it. (without pissing off the algorithm)

Because on one hand, I understand it…the strategy, the visibility, the reach. I understand that it has opened doors that would have otherwise stayed closed for me. I acknowledge that it allows me to connect with people I may never have met sitting across from me at a coffee shop, wrapped in oversized sweaters, book in hand, with a comfortable silence between us. I even understand the convenience of automation, the efficiency of scheduled posts and email lists, the logic behind systems that keep everything moving even when you’re not.

But understanding something doesn’t mean you have to like it.

Because if I’m being honest, so much of it feels… chilly and detached.

It feels like we’ve traded connection for optimization. Conversation for conversion. Presence for performance. And somewhere along the way, the humanity of it all got stripped down into captions, hooks, and carefully timed engagement windows. Even the word “engagement” feels telling, doesn’t it? As if connection itself has been reduced to a metric we can measure, track, and improve. How many likes did I get between 9 a.m. and 11 a.m. on Tuesday vs. Thursday…

And the automation…don’t even get me started.

Yes, it’s helpful. Yes, it saves time. Yes, it can keep your business running when life inevitably pulls you away. But when it’s relied on too heavily, without thought, review, or without any real human presence behind it… it starts to feel like you’re talking to a wall that occasionally echoes back something almost relevant. Close enough to pass, but not close enough to feel real. So inaccurate it feel insulting.

There’s something unsettling about receiving a response that was never actually felt before it was sent… “Hi First Name….” the frustration that builds when I see that, and the immediate swipe left to delete. I don’t ever bother.

And maybe that’s where my resistance lives. Intentionality is my love language.

I feel like in order to “perform” I have to be efficient and trade that in for presence. I don’t want to build something meaningful on a foundation that feels hollow. I don’t want to become so good at showing up online that I forget how to actually show up for someone sitting across from me, hands wrapped around a warm mug, saying something real, raw, unpolished and human.

That right there is the crux of why I struggle in the space.

Not because I don’t have things to say or I don’t believe in what I’m building. But because the way we’re expected to say it often feels performative and expertly curated. Like everything we post must be filtered through layers of what will land, what will convert, what will get attention. Not what is real and intentional.

And the truth is, I don’t want the attention if it comes at the expense of authenticity.

I don’t want to feel like I’m constantly stepping onto a stage every time I open an app. Constantly measuring my words by how well they perform under “insight analytics” instead of how deeply they resonate with the soul reading them. I don’t want to play a game where everyone is trying to be seen, but no one is actually slowing down enough to truly see each other.

It’s exhausting. And a little nauseating.

This constant pressure to package your life into something consumable. To turn your thoughts into content. To always be “on.” To always be shaping your voice into something that fits within an invisible algorithm that none of us actually understand, because it changes every single day, but all of us are inevitably controlled by it anyway.

And before you say it… yes… here I am.

Still posting. Still showing up. Still participating in a system I regularly question.

Because what other choice do I have?

If I want to reach people, share my work, and build something that matters, this is the landscape I’m working within. Ignoring it completely doesn’t feel realistic. But fully conforming to it doesn’t feel right either.

So I live in the tension of it. The two truths that exist in life…

I show up, and I question it.
I participate, and I resist it.
I use the tools, but I refuse to let them use me.

I am attempting to find balance with each post.

A way to exist here without losing myself.
Connection without performing.
A way to build something real in a space that often feels anything but.

Because at the end of the day, I don’t actually want more followers.

I want more conversations.

The kind that don’t need perfect lighting, a fake background, or a compelling hook. No CTA at the end. No, I want the kind that hits you in the chest, resonating, and making you feel called to connect. A connection that feels like sitting across from someone in comfy socks, saying the quiet things out loud, and knowing they’re being heard exactly as they were meant to be.

My take is, that is not something social media was ever designed to give us.

But, there’s no policy saying I can’t try to find it anyway.