Breaking up with short-form content (aka Instagram)

Digital and data minimalism

I will no longer be posting on Instagram. It’s been a long time coming.

I’ve been thinking about stepping away for a while now, because Instagram goes against so much of what I stand for. Short-form content is like fast fashion for our brains. Endless consumption, pulling us into loops that make us feel worse about ourselves one moment and then conveniently offer the solution the next.

I’m leaving Instagram as a creator in the name of both digital minimalism and data minimalism.

Digital minimalism and reclaiming attention

Digital minimalism is about choosing fewer inputs, slower consumption, and deeper focus.

I don’t want to turn deeper ideas into bite-sized moments that keep people scrolling, even when it’s framed as helpful or efficient. It creates that sense of needing to keep up. Long-form content takes more time and attention, and I know it isn’t for everyone. But short-form media is actively (negatively) reshaping how we think and focus: and I don’t want to contribute to that.

Also, I don’t want my own life affected by the pressure to create within that system.

Data minimalism and owning creative work

Alongside digital minimalism is data minimalism: being conscious about where your content, behavioral data, and personal information go.

Every Instagram post contributes systems built to monetize attention and increasingly to train AI models on our words, images, and habits. Even with opt-outs and policy updates, creators have little real control over how their work is used long term.

I don’t want my writing, videos, and photos turned into training data. I don’t want to compete with automated and AI content. And I don’t want to keep contributing to platforms whose business models depend on extracting as much engagement and data as possible.

The irony of me being on Instagram

Originally, I joined Instagram to grow my business. I was told that an online business required a large audience and that Instagram was the only way to build one. And it’s true, without Instagram I couldn’t have gotten my products out, but it felt soooo inauthentic.

Short-form content prioritizes speed over substance. It rewards volume, not depth. I enjoy spending time with my with ideas: thinking about simplicity, attention, hobbies, consumption, and what it means to live a lighter life. Compressing those thoughts into 30 seconds with a hook designed to stop a scroll always felt backwards.

Now that I’ve closed the business, I’ve been thinking about the role of creating for Instagram in my life. Very simply, it’s a chore.

Each reel means brainstorming, filming while trying to protect my privacy, editing, writing captions, posting, and then repeating the cycle days later. I tried making the workload more manageable: I went from posting a reel each week, to every other week, to once a month, but it always feels like too much.

Hours of work to make content for a platform I believe actively makes life worse, just to encourage people to live more intentionally. The irony.

Instagram’s business model is to capture attention, clicks, engagement, and data. I don’t want to participate in that economy. I want to share ideas I find interesting and liberating, slowly and deliberately, and maybe help someone along the way.

Building outside the algorithm

I often think about the early internet, when people ran blogs and small websites centered on their interests. There were no algorithms deciding who saw what. No pressure to post constantly or in just the right way. Just curiosity and connection.

I know I’m not the only one who questions what’s real online. We can feel the shift toward automation, AI generated mass content, and attention extraction. And I think many of us are craving simplicity again.

That’s why I’m only focusing on blogging now. This form of sharing gives me space to think and explore ideas fully. Working through Substack and its mailing list lets my work reach you directly, without fighting for attention in a feed (sort of, I know Substack has recommendation engine, but still). It’s a quieter, more intentional way to share and one that respects both your time and mine.

I want to focus on this community, those of you who have been here since the Light by Coco days and those of you who have joined more recently. Over the years I’ve had the privilege of connecting with so many of you and it has helped me realize what a special corner of the internet we have here. You’re thoughtful, empathetic, curious, and open-minded. I’ve found my people, and here on the blog we can geek out instead of sell out.

I will still be posting once a month, talking about anything I consider helpful for living a lighter, richer life, I’m just following my own advice and leaving behind a platform and habit that no longer align with how I want to think, create, or live.

Being offline is becoming one of the rarest forms of wealth, space to think, notice, and live without constant input. I am choosing more of that for myself, and I hope this change helps create more of it for you too. By showing up in fewer places I want my work to add value without adding noise.

Eugene Healey’s piece on Connected Privacy explores idea of being offline becoming a new form of wealth and privilege and is well worth reading if you are thinking about your own relationship with being online.