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The Social Media Crossroads:
A Personal Reflection

I've been wrestling with a question that seems to be on many minds these days: Do I actually need to be on social media? Not just the surface-level "it's a time waster" concern, but something deeper about what these platforms are doing to how I think, create, and connect.

Let me be clear from the start: this isn't an answer, and it's not judging you or me for being on social media. These are deeper thoughts I'm dwelling on these days. Maybe it's because I turn 50 this year, and because I'm a father to five children spread across ages 3-26 years old. Maybe it's just a phase I'm going through now that AI is replacing so many people, tasks, and perspectives. I don't know the answers, but I do know that this questioning has become clearer after moving to a very peaceful life in Provence.

I've intentionally tried to map out my life, look at every element, relationship, and thinking pattern. I want to live a clean life. Meaning, I want to do the things I do because I intentionally want to. I want to be a pilot of my own life, not a passenger. I want the freedom to live a life that sparks interesting conversations with interesting people, and I want to live a life as an example to my children. Big things.

The more I examine my relationship with social media, the more I realize this isn't just about scrolling less or posting better content. It's about fundamentally questioning what I want from my digital life and whether these tools are helping or hindering those goals.

The Performance Trap

My first red flag is the constant temptation to perform rather than simply be. Social media transforms even genuine moments into potential content, filtering our experiences through the lens of "how will this look to others?" I catch myself thinking about the angle, the caption, the timing, and suddenly I'm not fully present in my own life.

This performative pressure extends beyond personal posts. Even sharing professional insights or creative work becomes tainted by the need to optimize for engagement rather than authenticity. The platforms reward certain behaviors (controversy, frequent posting, perfect imagery) that often conflict with thoughtful, meaningful expression.

The Inspiration Deficit

Then there's the quality of what I'm consuming. I've noticed that despite following accounts I genuinely admire, the algorithmic feeds still serve up a mixture of genuinely valuable content and digital junk food. The ratio feels increasingly skewed toward the latter.

Real inspiration (the kind that sparks new ideas or shifts perspective) seems to come more reliably from books, long-form articles, deep conversations, or direct experiences. Social media's bite-sized format, optimized for quick engagement, rarely provides the depth needed for genuine insight or lasting impact.

The Professional Dilemma

Here's where things get complicated. In an era where "building your personal brand" has become career advice gospel, stepping away from social media feels like professional suicide. The conventional wisdom says you need to be visible, accessible, constantly sharing your expertise to attract opportunities.

But with AI reshaping entire industries, I wonder if this advice is becoming outdated. Are we investing energy in audience-building strategies that might be irrelevant in five years? Will the platforms that seem essential today even exist in their current form?

Perhaps the real professional advantage lies not in having the most followers, but in developing the clearest thinking and most authentic voice. These qualities might actually be hindered by the constant noise of social media.

The Connection Paradox

Social media promises connection but often delivers its shadow. Seeing friends' highlight reels creates an illusion of staying in touch while actually replacing the deeper conversations that build real relationships. The birthday notifications and life updates are convenient, but they can become substitutes for genuine care and attention.

I've started questioning whether liking someone's post or watching their stories actually strengthens our bond, or whether it gives me a false sense of connection that makes me less likely to reach out directly.

Charting a Different Course

As I think about the future, I'm increasingly drawn to a more intentional approach to digital life. This might mean:

Quality over quantity in consumption: Curating fewer, higher-quality sources of information and inspiration, even if they're less convenient than algorithmic feeds.

Depth over breadth in professional sharing: Focusing on fewer, more thoughtful contributions rather than constant visibility.

Direct connection over broadcast updates: Prioritizing personal messages, calls, and face-to-face time over public posts when it comes to meaningful relationships.

Present-moment awareness over content creation: Choosing to experience life fully rather than constantly evaluating it as potential content.

The Bigger Question

This isn't just about social media. It's about what we want from our digital tools and whether they're serving our deepest values and goals. The platforms are designed to capture attention and generate engagement, not necessarily to enhance our lives or help us become who we want to be.

Maybe the question isn't whether to be on social media, but how to use technology in ways that genuinely support our growth, relationships, and contribution to the world. This might look different for everyone, but it starts with honest reflection about what we're really getting from these tools and what we might be giving up in return.

The future of our digital lives doesn't have to be determined by the platforms' incentives or conventional wisdom about online presence. We have more choice than we realize, and exercising that choice thoughtfully might be one of the most important skills we can develop.

What would your digital life look like if you designed it from scratch, based on your actual values and goals rather than the expectations of algorithms and audiences?

Questions for Reflection

Before you next open a social media app, consider sitting with these questions:

1. When I share something online, what am I really seeking?
Is it genuine connection, validation, professional advancement, or simply the dopamine hit of engagement? Understanding your true motivations can help you find more direct and satisfying ways to meet those needs.

2. What would I create or think about if no one was watching?
This question cuts through the performance layer to reveal what genuinely matters to you. Your most authentic work often emerges when you're not optimizing for an audience.

3. How has my relationship with ideas changed since I started consuming bite-sized content?
Are you still capable of following complex thoughts to their conclusion, or has your attention become fragmented? The quality of your thinking shapes the quality of your life.

4. If I spent the time I currently use on social media doing something else, what would I choose?
The opportunity cost of social media isn't just time. It's the relationships, skills, experiences, and inner development you're not pursuing instead.

5. What kind of person am I becoming through my digital habits?
Every click, scroll, and post is a small vote for the kind of person you want to be. Are your digital choices aligned with your deeper aspirations, or are they pulling you in a different direction?

The Person You Become

This last question deserves deeper exploration because it touches on something we rarely discuss: social media doesn't just change what we do. It changes who we are.

Consider the subtle shifts that happen when you're regularly engaged with these platforms. You might notice yourself becoming more reactive, quick to judge, or prone to comparison. Your sense of self-worth might become increasingly tied to external validation (likes, comments, shares) rather than internal satisfaction or meaningful accomplishment.

The constant switching between different contexts and audiences can fragment your sense of identity. You develop different versions of yourself for different platforms, and over time, you might lose touch with who you are when no one is watching. The person who carefully curates their LinkedIn presence, shares politically charged content on Twitter, and posts lifestyle shots on Instagram might find themselves feeling scattered, unsure of their authentic voice.

Social media also shapes how you process experiences. Instead of allowing moments to simply be, you begin evaluating them through the lens of shareability. A sunset becomes a potential post, a conversation becomes a quotable insight, a struggle becomes content. This constant translation of life into digital artifacts can distance you from the richness of direct experience.

Perhaps most concerning is how these platforms can reshape your relationship with solitude and reflection. The constant stream of input (other people's thoughts, lives, and opinions) can crowd out the quiet spaces where your own ideas emerge. You might find yourself less comfortable with silence, less able to sit with uncertainty, less trusting of your own inner voice.

The person you become through social media isn't necessarily worse than who you were before, but they are different. The question is whether that difference aligns with the person you actually want to become. Are you more curious or more judgmental? More present or more distracted? More confident in your own worth or more dependent on external validation?

The encouraging truth is that these changes aren't permanent. The neuroplasticity that allows social media to reshape your brain also allows you to consciously reshape it back. But it requires honest recognition of what's happening and intentional choices about the person you want to become.

And I guess the biggest question is: Do I really need to be seen?

Maybe the most profound shift happens when you stop needing an audience to validate your thoughts, experiences, and worth. When you can create something beautiful without photographing it, have an insight without tweeting it, accomplish something meaningful without announcing it. There's something deeply liberating about living a life that doesn't require witnesses to feel real.

Here's an example from my own life: Every time I see my kid doing something amazing that makes me smile, or if I experience something that really gets my heart excited, my immediate reflex is to bring up my camera. And when that happens I start thinking: Why? Is this a "clean" feeling? This is definitely a thought reflex, or thinking pattern that has been created over the last decades. What did a human feel before they had a camera and were able to share their photos with people? As much as I love taking photos and videos, I want that feeling to come from a real place. Not from wanting to show my photo to someone, that should be secondary. I want it to come from "I love taking photos and making videos", and then the potential positive feedback from showing it to people should be secondary.

This doesn't mean isolation or secrecy. It means choosing when and how to share from a place of genuine connection rather than compulsive visibility. It means trusting that your life has value whether anyone sees it or not.

Take time with these questions. The answers might surprise you and they might just change how you engage with the digital world.