Is It Just Me Or… Is It Time to Take Social Media Back To What It Was Meant To Be?

Around this time two years ago, I was terrified of my phone. More specifically, of opening any social media apps.

After 6 years of building an online platform around the values of helping others, creating community and encouraging change, my brain had hit a point that I genuinely didn’t see coming. I was too scared to even click.

It seemed to me that every time I showed up on social media I was either going to be met with streams of criticism about who I was – how I could be doing better, accusations about my values, straight up trolling – or, on days where I was being a user more than a creator (scrolling to catch up with other people and the world), I was just going to be met with an endless stream of shit: trauma, tragedy and photoshopped influencers mixed in with smiling selfies of people who were clearly coping with online life SO much better than I was.

I genuinely felt like I couldn’t be there and be okay. Every time I forced myself online, I felt adrenaline coursing through my body. I braced myself with every scroll. I came away feeling like everything was wrong and I was a piece of shit and nothing I did on social media would ever be good enough. I want to go back and give myself a hug.

I’ve spent years being so lost in the vortex – grappling with online social justice culture, algorithm game-playing, competitive relationships between creators, constant drama to keep up with – that I forgot what all of this was meant to be for. The reason why I started showing up in the first place.

When I started tentatively sharing myself online all those years ago, I was hoping for three things: connection, community, and to create change.

I knew that behind every device was an actual human being who it turned out, had felt and thought the same things that I had. And thanks to this new social media world, I could connect with them. We could feel connected. That was beautiful.

As more people showed up who were connected to us in the same ways, I began to feel like this could finally be the space to build the community I’d been lacking my whole life. Every day I looked forward to being online to see what my people were saying, to reading my messages, to feeling like part of a group of people who were all genuinely invested in each other’s’ well-being. That was even more beautiful.

And as those communities grew (and the world started to take notice), I couldn’t deny that something even more special was starting to sparkle under the surface. Something powerful. Something like change. A feeling that if we kept going – kept talking, kept connecting, kept putting our energy towards the same dark places that needed light – we could actually make a difference. And that? That was the most beautiful of all.

So where did it go? I know I’m not the only one who feels like those things have been lost online. I speak to creators nearly every day who are disheartened by the way things have gone, as well as regular social media users who don’t feel the spark of anything anymore – some have left altogether to preserve their mental health.

And maybe that was an inevitable outcome of an online world that started to expand endlessly with new voices, new opinions, new events, new ways to monetise and new technical features doing lord knows what to our little human brains. Maybe connection, community and change were only ever fever dreams before we knew what was coming.

But I’m not ready to let them go yet.

I’ve spent the last couple of years being really honest with myself about what parts of social media no longer serve me (and equally, what parts don’t serve any of us in the grand scheme of things).

As a creator I’ve tried to tap out of the numbers game, not give a fuck about the algorithm, refuse to churn out clickbait content, stay human and multi-faceted and not know everything but show up anyway. I’ve investigated my own beliefs about cancel culture and found healthier ways of navigating social justice spaces. I’ve stopped trying to be perfect. I’ve posted less. I am less “liked” than ever and that feels okay. Because I choose me, and my mental well-being first.

As a user I’ve tried to stop doom-scrolling and falling down call-out rabbit holes, I’ve reminded myself every time about the humanity of the person behind the screen and how little I really know (and them, the situation, or anything really). I’ve cheered for people’s achievements who previously would’ve felt like competition. I’ve commented for fun. I’ve supported causes where I can and known when I have nothing to give. I’ve logged out more. I’ve chosen me, and my well-being, first.

And I’m in a place now where not only am I no longer scared every time I go online, I’ve started to remember that actually, using these platforms is supposed to be enjoyable (for the most part). We are supposed to feel connected. We are supposed to feel in community. We are supposed to feel like we have the possibility of creating change in tangible and sustainable ways. I think we just got lost for a while. At least I did…

I’d like to take it back now.

I’m ready to reconnect to the parts of online life that made it somewhere I wanted to show up to in the first place. I’m ready to hold the humanity of everyone there front and centre and build genuine, caring connections. I’m ready to feel like I have a community again (and maybe that community is you, reading this, hi!). I’m ready to re-believe that change is possible. I’m ready to enjoy being there.

I’m ready to reclaim social media. After all these years, it’s the least I deserve.

So, I’ll be holding those intentions front and centre in all the ways I show up online: connection, community, creating change. And if they feel like intentions that align with what you want your online world to be, then I’ll see you there, friend.

Love,

M

💜