Son de Flor linen Clementine shirt (use KEIKOLYNN15 for 15% off!), thrifted skort (originally from Zara), Free People loafers via T.J.Maxx, sheer knee socks, JINS prescription glasses, beret.
Last night, I climbed into bed, exhausted and on the brink of falling asleep before my head even hit the pillow. It was 10 pm. As I pulled the blanket over my eyes, too tired to even search for my sleep mask, I had two thoughts:
Gosh, I’m old. Even in my thirties, I was still quite the night owl. These days, not so much.
Uhoh! I have to post a paid collaboration tomorrow, and I haven’t posted anything in quite a while. The algorithm doesn’t like that. It probably won’t do well, and they’ll never hire me again. What if I never get another job again? Ugh, I need to start posting more regularly if I want to keep doing this. Do I want to keep doing this? I think so… I really love it. I just kinda hate the internet sometimes. Wait, do I complain the internet too much? Am I ungrateful for this excellent tool that has given me such a wonderful career? Is it still called the internet? Is it too late for me to start a YouTube channel?
Okay, a few more than two thoughts. Anxiety, dread, grief, and guilt often greet me at the most inopportune times. “Oh, you’re tired? Great, let’s dissect your past, present, and future in a catastrophic way.”
Truthfully and thankfully, the insomnia-spirals aren’t as frequent as they used to be — which is why this one stood out. Maybe it’s therapy. 🎶 Maybe it’s Sertraline. 🎶 Or maybe it’s getting older and no longer fixating on social media engagement as a measure of self-worth and adopting an overall more chill approach to my career and life in general. Which is cool, but like I’ve said before — and then tossed right out of my head with the comforting click of my closing laptop — social media is a large part of my job. Turns out, it’s not enough to always be creating behind the scenes. I have to share it, too.
I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to put to rout all that was not life, and not, when I had come to die, discover that I had not lived. — Dead Poets Society (paraphrasing Thoreau)
I’m painfully aware of the irony in posting online about wanting — more and more — to be offline. It seems mad to keep engaging in a space that provides less comfort and more anxiety with every passing year. But I love creating. I love writing, I love photography, I have even loved learning videography and seeing how it can expand my creative world. Even if I didn’t make a dime doing this, I’d still be doing the same things as a hobby.
It’s just…in recent years, I get majorly overstimulated by the noise. The mean comments, the rage bait, the staged-to-look-real posts, the arguing back and forth, and the alt-right propaganda that my IG algorithm thinks I want to see (despite me constantly selecting “not interested” — and sometimes not being given that choice). Everyone just seems to be looking for a fight, even with people who are on their side.
But of course, I know that’s not the whole truth. That’s just what is being shown when I open the default page, the one that is more full of random posts than people I follow. And I seem to have a very different experience than most, because my recommended posts are not tailored to my interests, no matter how much I try. (Side note: I found out something interesting about my account that may give me a little more insight into why I have a very different user experience.) So I prefer the quiet of being disconnected.
And then today I remembered, oh, right. I can choose to only see people I follow.
The second I clicked “following” in the top left corner, hidden beneath the Instagram logo, was a breath of fresh air. A welcome reminder that I follow really talented, interesting people, and some really cute animals. The internet (if that’s what we’re still calling it) is good. Maybe I don’t need to scroll for hours on end — that will never be me — but I also don’t need to have anticipatory heart palpitations upon opening any apps. My experience can still be curated, just one [hidden] click away.
Also, it should go without saying that I love Substack — at least, how it is in this moment. It feels like a nostalgic refuge for those who miss blogs, a soft landing for introverts like me who have so much on their mind and want to share in a cozier space among thoughtful people. Not necessarily “like-minded”— just thoughtful. A place for conversations.
I know I should love my content reaching thousands upon thousands of people, but I prefer it reaching the people who actually want to be there.
Because I am not for everyone. But that doesn’t mean I’m not for anyone.
I’ll try to remind myself of that when I go to sleep tonight.
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