Written at a moment when privacy began to feel like something worth defending (2016).
My life on public display has been shrinking. Deliberately.
This year had already been a difficult one, and the summer forced me to slow down enough to notice what was no longer working. I spent time thinking about my own life and my family's, and how easily attention gets scattered. Real connection had started to feel rare. Digital connection was everywhere.
Social media is not going anywhere, and for many people, it works well. For me, it had become a burden. I found myself leaving those spaces feeling worse rather than better, distracted rather than connected. Useful as a communication tool, yes. Healthy as a default environment, no.
Part of the problem is how much of ourselves we are encouraged to put on display. I had done it too. Sharing became habitual. Silence started to feel like absence.
I tested that assumption by stepping away. For a short period, I removed the constant stream of updates and notifications. At first, it felt uncomfortable. I was aware of how dependent I had become on having information and affirmation within armβs reach. Then something shifted. The noise faded. The urge to check declined. Time reappeared.
What surprised me most was how small my real circle actually is. A handful of people matter day to day. They do not need a feed to reach me. They already know how.
That experience clarified something simple. I do not need to disappear, but I do need boundaries. Fewer platforms. Less frequency. More intention. Connection when it matters, privacy the rest of the time.
I will still write here. I will still be reachable. I just no longer feel obliged to narrate my life as it happens.
Privacy, it turns out, is not withdrawal. It is space to live properly.