We spend so much time, money, and energy on things that simply aren’t necessary and I’m kind of over it. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes the game is fun. I love creating. I love publishing, whether it’s blog posts, emails, videos, social, all aspects of putting your work out there for the world to see, from a few words on Bluesky to thousands of words on Substack, it’s nothing short of addictive. The problem is, most of that effort is met with very little reciprocation.
We’ve built entire identities around content creation, carefully crafting our online personas, obsessing over engagement metrics, and chasing that dopamine hit when something finally resonates. But at what point do we step back and ask ourselves what we’re getting in return? How long can I continue to do this? How many more platforms can I sign up for before they are all just lost in the endless flow of automated emails and messages trying to lure me back to an app that I haven’t opened in weeks, months, years?
I think that time for me has finally come.
I won’t stop creating. I love it too much. With or without the likes and comments, I just enjoy putting my thoughts and ideas out there.
The problem isn’t about engagement, algorithms, or validation. Although I am not oblivious to all of those playing their part in the game. My issue is with every platform wanting you to pay for something that they know you will stop using when the next big thing comes along.
It’s like we’re all stuck in this endless cycle of digital musical chairs. You find a platform you like, invest countless hours building a following, and just when you’ve got some traction, the platform either changes its algorithm, starts charging for basic features, or simply becomes irrelevant as the cool kids move somewhere else. Then it’s time to start over. Again.
I keep thinking about all of these things. How many social platforms have you signed up for in the last decade? How many do you actually use regularly now? I am willing to bet the numbers don’t match up. Each of these platforms represented hours of your life – setting up profiles, learning interfaces, building connections – that you’ll never get back.
I’ve been a contributor to this system for a majority of my life and found myself in enough different corners of the internet to know that this cycle isn’t accidental. It’s by design. The tech industry and every other company trying to sell us something, have mastered the art of creating digital FOMO, even when it comes down to just signing up for free. “You’re not on the latest platform? You’re missing out! Your competitors are already there building an audience!” The pressure to be everywhere is relentless, and it’s exhausting.
The platforms themselves aren’t entirely to blame. We’ve created this ecosystem together – users desperate for connection and validation, platforms desperate for engagement and growth metrics to satisfy investors. It’s a relationship that works until it doesn’t, like dating someone you know isn’t right for you but staying because it’s comfortable.
What bothers me most isn’t even the money these platforms want. It’s the disingenuous way they lure you in with free features, let you build a following, and then hold that audience hostage behind a paywall. “Want to reach the people who chose to follow you? That’ll be $9.99 a month.” It’s like inviting friends to your house and then charging them to use the bathroom.
I think we need to have an honest conversation about the true cost of “free” platforms. Because while we might not be paying with dollars initially, we’re paying with something far more valuable – our time, our attention, our creative energy. And unlike money, those things are finite and non-renewable resources.
So here’s where I’ve landed: I’m going to be more intentional. I’m going to simplify. I’m going to spend less. I’m going to pick my platforms carefully. I’m going to create because it brings me joy, not because an algorithm demands feeding. And most importantly, I’m going to remember that these platforms need us more than we need them.
Sure, my blog might not look as fancy and my social posts might not be as perfectly optimized, but at the end of the day, content isn’t king. Creators are. Without us, these platforms are just empty digital real estate, waiting for someone to move in and make them worth visiting.