Why I Almost Walked Away From This Work

I’ve been avoiding Instagram for months.

I’d log in, see notifications, and freeze. Every time I’d think about posting on my sex education account, I’d feel this wave of flat exhaustion at the thought of playing a game I can’t win.

As a sex educator, the algorithm already works against me. Reach is trash. Engagement is inconsistent. Shadow bans and deactivation are a constant threat (just look at what happened to Bellesa). I’ve built over 50K followers despite Instagram doing everything possible to make sexual health content invisible. And honestly? I’m tired of playing the game.

Last year I finally found something fun, millennial memes, that reached thousands and finally brought my stagnant account to new viewers.

But that was a way to cope with the political reality of the United States while nurturing my millennial self and connecting to others. It wasn’t the broader herpes education work I’m passionate about.

When I finally sat down towards the end of last year, trying to find my voice again, I opened Canva, pulled up my templates, and started designing. I stared blankly at my color palette, fonts, and marks. I had never felt so disconnected from my work.

The brand felt wrong. The colors felt wrong. The fonts felt distant, like they belonged to someone else. I’d try to force something that fit and end up with exactly that–something forced. Safe. Boring. Vanilla. Not mine.

I realized late in 2025 that I’d been trying to squeeze myself back into a brand I created in 2020…before my dad died, before I lost Céline, before the breakup, before I lost my corporate job, before I moved home. This brand was created before I spent three years excavating my entire life. It was built by someone who no longer exists.

I'd been trying to squeeze myself back into a brand built by someone who no longer exists.

The Emily who created soft pastels and gentle messaging and therapeutic graphics was creating a space where people felt safe and seen. That foundation still matters. But safety without challenge doesn't create the transformation people are actually seeking. The Emily I am now needs to build something bold, direct, and unflinchingly honest.

So I had a decision to make: do I even want to keep doing this work? And if I do, am I going to keep limping along with a brand that doesn’t fit, DIY it, or actually invest in it the way I’d invest in anything I’m serious about?

In December, I made my decision. I hired a brand designer — someone bold, structured, and exactly what this work needed. My revised brand and website will officially launch sometime later this spring.