Leaving Social Media: A Personal Shift
Early April 2025
It feels ironic that I chose April 1 to leave Facebook — and all social media — completely. Facebook was the platform for me. I don’t remember my first post, but I remember the feeling: a step away from AIM (AOL Instant Messenger) and a step closer to people.
Facebook grew up with me. Back then, it was only for college students. When they opened it up to my generation, it felt like joining a secret club. I didn’t realize until much later that my mom never jumped on the social media wave like other parents. While my friends’ moms were posting online, mine was hanging clothes on the line. In a lot of ways, my parents never left the ways of a generation that feels almost lost now.
Today is day two without social media. I have to make it 30 days — or I can undo it. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it constantly. I wonder what I’m missing. I wonder what people might be saying about me behind their screens.
People talk, with or without social media. I wish I could accept that truth more radically. But I’m the one hurting myself by holding on to those thoughts.
Feeling the Shift
Without Facebook or Instagram to distract me, I find myself looking at my children more. I’m trying to get through these cold, boring days of fool’s spring. Yesterday, my thumb hovered over where the app used to be on my phone — countless times. Addiction is a weird thing.
I’ve never thought of myself as an addict. But loving someone who struggled with addiction makes me wonder if she would understand this loss of a vice. I miss her sometimes, even though betrayal runs deep.
Honestly, I’m not sure what I’m trying to get at with this writing. I keep thinking, I need a notebook. I feel lost, like a wall I leaned on for 20 years suddenly vanished.
So I write.
Why I Left
You might be wondering: What happened? Why leave now?
I’m not a widely known artist — yet — but I’m not just starting either. After my first blog post, people reached out. I even got phone numbers for people I had only communicated with online.
One of the biggest reasons I left social media is because I didn’t feel like I was living my fullest life. I wasted hours, days, years chasing likes, hearts, comments, shares, and reels. None of it made me feel full.
In spring 2024, I hit one of the lowest points of my life. I felt helpless, betrayed, isolated, and empty. I ended up calling the crisis line and taking FMLA leave for my mental health. No matter how hard I tried, scrolling social media made it worse. It showed me a world where everyone else was thriving without me.
We are all selfish, all focused mostly on ourselves. But back then, I couldn’t even see myself. I truly thought the world would be better without me.
I wish I could go back and hug that woman sitting on the couch, begging for help. Begging to be seen. I’m not a hugger — but back then, I needed it more than anything.
Moving Forward
Scrolling was my vice. A year ago, I started realizing that life isn’t online. It's in real, imperfect, in-person connection.
I don’t blame social media for my mental health crisis, but it certainly didn’t help. I was chasing “hits” of validation — likes, comments, messages — instead of living in reality.
Now, I’m trying to change that.
In the past few days, I’ve been busy:
Building tall planter boxes from free pallets.
Teaching my 5-year-old how to play cards.
Winter sowing seeds (it’s amazing!).
Trying (and failing) to switch my brain to the metric system.
And yes, still wondering what I’m missing online.
I tell my kids “no” to screens. Now it’s time to practice what I preach. I’m saying “no” to doomscrolling, to validation addiction, and to the fear that social media stokes.
My goals?
Make art. Laugh. Garden. Listen to music. Be present with friends.
Social media softened a muscle in me — the one for real, human connection. Now I’m working on strengthening it again.
It feels strange, like standing in an open field where a wall once was. But maybe, just maybe, that’s exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Real Growth
And despite a rocky few days, I can see little signs of growth — both outside and inside.
The seeds I started in winter sowing containers are beginning to sprout, tiny greens pushing up through the soil, reminding me that life goes on, even after the coldest, grayest seasons.
The weather has been as unpredictable as ever — classic Maine. One minute it’s sunny and feels like spring, the next we’re shoveling sleet. But somehow, that feels right. It matches the in-between place I’m in right now: not quite winter, not quite summer, but growing all the same.
I’m getting better at working with tools, learning how to pull apart free pallet wood without splitting it, and building things with my own two hands. It’s satisfying in a way that no amount of scrolling ever was.
Each seedling, each board I cut, feels like a small promise: I’m building something real.
Logging Out to Show Up: Why I’m Leaving Social Media (and What Comes Next)
After 20 years of posting, scrolling, heart-reacting, algorithm-dodging, and trying to remember which app wants a reel vs. a story vs. a carousel (??), I’m officially logging out of social media.
Not because I’m bitter. Not because I think the internet is evil. But because I’m alive, I’m still here, and I want to show up better.
In September 2023, I left my career as an art teacher. After years of supporting others in their growth, I'm leaning into my own. I'm a lifelong learner, and right now I'm more interested in human skills than hashtags. Things like gardening, slow mornings, conversations without character limits, and making things with my hands that have nothing to do with apps or analytics.
So I'm ending my time as a teacher and stepping more fully into life as an artist. I'm not disappearing—I'm just choosing to connect more intentionally.
If you know me, you know I like my colors bold, my animals slightly chaotic, and my jokes millennial-level ironic. That’s not changing. In fact, if you want to laugh through tears and celebrate the weird joy of being a human being who paints stuff, you're still in the right place.
Funny February will continue (year four, here we come). The pet portraits will stay loud and loving. And I’m working on new pieces that are messier, moodier, and more honest than ever.
Also: I’m hosting a small opening show on Final Friday in June, and yes, you’re invited. It'll be in real life. There will be snacks. Probably cookies. Definitely feelings.
What I’m Doing Now Instead of Posting Reels
Learning how to pressure can so future-me can flex with a pantry full of jars like a Depression-era queen 👑🥫
Growing my own food — like, actual food. From dirt. The kind you have to remember to water.
Building shelves, frames, and whatever else I need from free pallet wood like some kind of millennial raccoon-carpenter hybrid
Romanticizing scrubbing baseboards after falling down the Facebook “cleaning hacks” rabbit hole (IYKYK 🧼)
Finding out that quiet is underrated and dirt under your nails can feel like progress
Making art no one double-taps — just because it feels good
Remembering I don’t need to go viral to feel seen
Want to keep up with my work?
Sign up for my email list. Buy a print. Stop by a show. Or heck, send me an email like it's 2004 and we’re all on dial-up.
Thanks for following me this far. I’m still here. Just not in your feed.
— KP
Come back march 31, 2025
March 31 will be the first official blog post for this “new” life post-social media…
Scary? Sure… Important and necessary? Definitely.
Posts will include things like: Thoughts, new artworks, books being read, and life without social media.
I look forward to sharing with you soon!
Cheers!
KP