Earlier this month, I announced on LinkedIn that I’d terminated all my other personal accounts on X, Instagram, Threads, Bluesky, Reddit, and TikTok. Funny enough, I didn’t anticipate the flood of private messages that would follow—thank you notes for my honesty and even some praise for my “bravery”. It might seem odd that leaving a social network could spark such a response, yet when you consider how deeply these platforms are ingrained in our daily lives, the reaction is hardly surprising.

For years, social media played a crucial role in building my venture, Creative Boom. Even now, it maintains a presence on Twitter—sharing updates and engaging with our audience as it has since 2009. Similarly, Instagram and Threads still deliver occasional wins. However, overall reach and engagement have noticeably diminished—especially in an era where algorithmic formulas, popularised by platforms like TikTok, have shifted the entire digital landscape.

Business-wise, I’m not ready to say goodbye to the 560k followers or the lucrative @creativeboom handles. Instead, this move is part of a broader strategy: we’re gradually shifting away from “renting” our audience on third-party platforms and moving toward building our own spaces. Whether it’s through a newsletter, podcast, magazine, or a private online community, we’re investing in assets we own and control. It’s insurance for the future—and I’m genuinely excited about where it’s heading. And at some point, we’ll leave these networks for good.

The Personal Equation

On a personal level, the social media I once depended on no longer seems to offer the same value. I was caught in the “build your own brand” cycle—posting daily updates that ranged from casual walks to new outfits. Over time, I began questioning the true benefit of such constant sharing. What was I really achieving? Was this relentless digital self-promotion adding any real value to my life or to those who followed me?

The tipping point came after one too many Adam Mosseri announcements on how to play by their rules. Honestly, my blood would boil every time his smug, happy face popped into my feed, urging me to create reels, dance, or test new features. It was exhausting trying to keep up. I also had enough of seeing updates from accounts I didn’t follow or having “people you might know” shoved in my face.

Then it hit me—while I was busy showing off new outfits and £220 sneakers (which, by the way, I bought just because I saw someone rock them on Instagram), I suddenly felt sixteen years old again: feisty, awake, and channelling every bit of Rage Against the Machine. And no, I won’t do what you tell me. I won’t play their silly games.

The decision to leave wasn’t made lightly. Yes, I worried someone might capitalise on my name or that I’d miss out on opportunities. I even hesitated at the thought of saying goodbye to the 30,000 followers spread across various networks. But the simple truth emerged: if I wasn’t truly connecting with these people, why expend the effort? And then there was that nagging dissonance—how could I justify showcasing trivial stuff while so many are struggling? It felt crass and, ultimately, unsustainable. Why hadn’t I realised this before?

The Immediate Feeling

When I said “Hasta la Vista” to X and Instagram, a sudden weight lifted off my shoulders—a heavy burden I’d carried for far too long. I felt relief. Freedom. And then, oddly enough, panic set in. What if I missed out? What was I going to do with my hands? Why was I suddenly bored? (More on that later!)

Realising just how much I’d been using these apps was eye-opening. Soon enough, new opportunities presented themselves. I picked up a book, baked homemade granola, phoned a friend, and even squeezed in an extra gym session. Thoughts like, “Oh, I should take a picture of that and share it,” popped into my head—and I couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity. I’d convinced myself for so long that I needed to be plugged into Meta’s universe to succeed. I don’t.

Moving Forward

This isn’t about rejecting social media altogether—it’s about redefining how I use these tools. While the professional benefits of these platforms remain undeniable for Creative Boom, the personal costs have become too high. My focus now is on cultivating spaces that offer genuine value to both myself and the communities I serve.

So yes, LinkedIn stays. It’s a powerful place to connect with creatives, gather feedback on pressing topics, and gauge the industry’s pulse. As a journalist, I find it truly invaluable. That said, if LinkedIn ever starts following the herd, I might have to rethink its role. And for Creative Boom and my other ventures, I’ll remain on them—until they have truly served their purpose. I’ll feel safe knowing I’ve had a backup plan all along, building my own subscriber lists, websites, and owned assets.

In the end, this journey isn’t about the platforms—it’s about purpose. By realigning my online presence with my core values, I’m aiming for a more balanced, meaningful approach to personal and professional growth. As badass Sarah Connor once said, “The unknown future rolls toward us. I face it, for the first time, with a sense of hope”.