I disappeared off LinkedIn for seven months. Not a single post. And the only reason I opened the app each day, was to get rid of those notification numbers that sat there. Probably tells you a lot about me and having things sitting nice and tidy.

Anyway, a few months ago I decided to go back on social media. I decided to go back on Substack too. A platform I opened a year ago, after I published my book. But then realised I didn’t have anything meaningful I wanted to share. After writing my book for 22 months, my head (and heart) needed a rest.

I quickly got sucked into feeding the machines. I devised a visibility plan. Yes, I even called it that. I wrote in advance, and shared on the platforms, when my plan told me to. It’s funny how quickly I slipped back into these behaviours.

And if I’m honest, I think I hid behind the plan. The plan decided when I would show up, and what was next. To a certain extent, it took me out of the equation. I didn’t need to notice whether I had something meaningful to say. I just needed to follow the plan.

It’s easy to blame the platforms, but let’s be clear, nobody made me create a visibility plan. Nobody made me write ahead or made me turn showing up into a task list. I did that myself.

You see, my head is always full of thoughts, reflections, observations, inspiration. I’ve got more ‘stuff’ than you can imagine. So I don’t need, or want, anymore. What I felt was a lack of energy. Other people’s thoughts and reflections consuming me.

Suddenly, I couldn’t bear the thought of opening LinkedIn and Substack. But something was telling me, if you want to be visible, you have to ‘do social media both ways’. You can’t just post and ghost.

The discomfort appeared when it felt like writing wasn’t enough. As though publishing a piece somehow creates a debt. Now you have to read. Now you have to comment. Now you have to network. Now you have to “build community”. Now you have to “grow”.

This wasn’t a Substack thing. LinkedIn has the same unwritten rules.

And before long, the writing itself felt buried underneath all the things I was apparently supposed to do once I’d shared it. There’s a whole identity that seems to come attached to social media. The more time I spend there, the more I notice people starting to sound alike. Ten days into daily notes, and I noticed it happening to me too. The posts starting to sound like posts, not me.

Platforms reward people for fitting in. But I’ve spent most of my life doing things my way, and the idea of becoming another version of everyone else feels exhausting before I’ve even started.

I don’t want to be writing something out of obligation, fear, or just because a plan says be consistent.

I want to put something meaningful out there.

I want to leave clues for other people to find.

That’s my version of visibility. And that’s enough.

Andrea