This really should have been an Instagram post.

(but it just won't fit!)

I’m a terrible influencer.

You’d think that after twelve years on social media, and with two million Instagram followers, I would know what I’m doing. Truth is, I don’t. I don’t post regularly, I don’t create enough content, I suck at making reels, and I have a penchant for speaking my mind loudly and upsetting people who actually enjoy following me (“I’m just sending you this to let you know I am UNFOLLOWING YOU!” is a DM I get on a regular basis). I lose more followers than I gain, and consistently have for the past few years. I’m no good at the influencing thing! What I am good at is storytelling, and honesty, and sharing my heart in a vulnerable way and for a while social media was a really good place for all of those things. But I don’t think it is anymore. It hasn’t been for a while.

My relationship with social media is complicated (as I’m sure it is for most of us); it’s a source of so much inspiration, a place of connection, and I have a beautiful community there. It also happens to be the foundation of my career and how I put food on the table. And at the same time, social media is the source of most, if not all, of my anxiety, and something I’ve been able to fully identify as an addictive habit that lessens my attention span, my zest for life, and my ability to stay present in real life. There is good… And then there is a whole lot of bad.

Over the past few months I’ve found myself in transition - after a long time of putting my creative self on hold, I feel inspired again. I’m starting new projects, booking trips, trying new things. And most important of all: I’m writing. And when I write, I often want to share it on social media. Back in the day, writing long musings and storytelling from the heart was kind of my thing. Now, I rarely share that vulnerably online (that’s what my podcast is for!) and I left the “I have to post something all the time”-pressure behind years ago, to the algorithm’s dismay. I spent the first years of my life on Instagram posting four or five times a day (actual photos! In the grid! With weird filters and borders!) and kept that up until I was so burnt out from taking my own photo one day I just couldn’t be bothered anymore. I counted, and in 2024 I posted something to the grid a total of 38 times. Compare that to 2014 when I would post 38 things in a single week! What I’m saying is, I’ve paid my dues. I did the influencer thing and it was fun while I had the energy. I was in my 20’s, for crying out loud! I have two kids now. And a farm. I’m a little bit tired, all the time (aren’t we all?).

One of many daily posts back in the day

Sure, I get FOMO sometimes and there are days when I get in my head and think I should share more and try to be more inspiring and create content but then I get on with my life and I just… Don’t. Life happens outside of social media and I don’t want to be glued to my phone anymore. I want to spend more time looking at the sky above my head and the dirt beneath my feet that I do looking at a screen. I post to stories every day because it’s effortless and fun, but it does absolutely zip for my engagement and if we wait long enough, yes, my following will slowly dwindle down to zero. That should upset me, right? It doesn’t. Strangely, it’s freeing, and most important of all, letting go of trying to “be” somebody online is much, much better for my mental health. So, how come you are reading this on Substack? It’s simple:

I don’t wan’t to edit myself anymore.

I don’t want to shrink myself down. I need more space! I need more depth. And I have a sneaky feeling you do, too. We need more slow reading, slow writing, slow living. That’s why I’m here; to write. Writing has always been the “why” for me when it comes to posting online; when I have something to say that’s just where I say it. I’ll feel inspired by something, or something has happened that sparked a big emotion in me, and I immediately feel the urge to write it down. I wish I could say that’s when I sit down at my desk with a steaming cup of tea by my side, look out at the dreamy landscape in front of me, and with an inspired sigh put pen to paper, but no. It’s not like in the movies - I don’t even open my laptop. It’s the Notes app on my iPhone. Has been for a long time and will be for as long as I have a smartphone. It’s convenient! And it’s quick, and easy - always in my pocket ready to go. Writing is never dreamy or glamorous and usually happens with a baby on my hip, or sitting on the floor in the laundry room pretending to load the dryer so I can get five minutes to myself. I absolutely love it.

I have thousands of Notes on my phone (does everyone? I’m not sure!), the first one dating back to 2012. My Notes are a little app-sized reflection of my life; it holds everything from next seasons garden planning and quotes I adore to grocery lists, books I want to read, to-do lists for the house, and long pieces of my writing. My whole life fits into that little app! And all of my feelings along with it. Many chapters of my published books began as a feeling that turned into a Note.

A note I wrote after putting my daughter to bed one evening

If I’m happy with what I’ve written, I go to Instagram to post it (which doesn’t always happen. Sometimes the act of writing it down makes the urgency of sharing it go away and the Note will remain in my phone as just a Note). Why Instagram? It’s my only social media platform worth mentioning. I don’t do TikTok and I haven’t tweeted since long before everyone stopped using that word. I like Instagram. It’s where my people are! I feel a sense of community there. And most of all, it’s where I feel people read my writing the most (probably because I’ve never tried posting anywhere else).

Not that you asked, but here is the breakdown of the process behind every single piece of writing you’ve ever seen me share on Instagram:

1. Write Note.

2. Find a photo that goes along with Note (if no such photo exists, procure one).

3. Open Instagram and choose said photo.

4. Copy/Paste Note into Instagram caption window.

5. Loose whole damn mind because Note will not fit.

6. Spend an unreasonable amount of time editing down Note so it can become Caption; Note’s lesser, more superficial, much shorter cousin.

7. Post Caption, very annoyed.

8. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

How many times in the past decade have I thought to myself while editing down a piece of writing I was perfectly happy with to be able to squeeze it into Instagrams 2,200 character limit; “I really should be sharing this some place else”? I truly don’t know. A million? It’s taken me twelve years, but I’ve finally decided to give another platform a try.

Substack has been on my mind for years but the idea of curating a whole new platform always felt daunting. I’ve also been in a bit of a cocoon during the past few years where I haven’t felt like sharing my writing at all (hello, and goodbye, progressed moon in Scorpio!). But like I said, lately, I’ve been writing more. Creating more. I’m looking for ways to spend less time on my phone, but still stay connected to my community. And… Maybe this is it? Substack seems really nice. No distractions. No nonsense. No keyboard warriors yelling at me for dressing my son in the wrong kind of shoe.

I don’t know if it’s the new moon or that feeling of potential that New Year’s always brings, but I woke up this morning and decided to just go for it. So, hi…? I guess I’m on Substack! I’m writing. Exploring. Trying something new. Character limit, endless (ok I’m assuming there is an actual limit here too but it sure as hell won’t be 2,200 characters).

I’ll be writing about everything I usually write about; it will be vulnerable and real and I promise I won’t spend too much time talking about chickens (immediate regret, I take that back!). I love having the space to write it all. And I have so much to say. Mostly, I’m just so excited that you’re here, reading these words.

So, please subscribe. I’ll be back in your inbox before you know it.

Happy almost New Year! I have a feeling 2025 is going to be a really, really good one.

x,

Rachel

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