Getting Reacquainted with Social Media (On My Own Terms)

One year ago today, I brought Keep Light Consulting to Instagram. I posted a side-by-side photo of my first-grade self (mullet and all) next to a picture marking this new chapter.

But that social post wasn't day one.

Before I ever hit share, I was already in it—doing the work behind the scenes, helping clients, while letting my ideas lead me to how I wanted to show up for others. Taking Keep Light public on social media wasn't about launching out of nowhere; it was simply choosing to open a window into the work and intention that was already alive.

A year into sharing this chapter online, I’ve been thinking a lot about screens, presence, and what it actually means to run a business today.

My relationship with social media didn't start with Keep Light. For eight years, I was the voice and the eye behind BirchTree Bread Company. I never had a personal Instagram—managing BirchTree's page was strictly a business tool, a daily task done out of care for the brand rather than personal scrolling. That boundary kept me grounded.

But using it strictly as a tool didn't mean it lacked heart. I really enjoyed capturing that chapter: following the solar splash pour over toast slathered with raspberry jam, glistening like rubies, a latte with milk steamed to perfection, a photo that held the energy of the room while the live music was happening. And then the writing… being able to share words with folks that chose to come in was a privilege.

My attention to detail back then was definitely a double-edged sword. On the days I wasn't in the bakery and had run out of recent photos, I’d ask the team to text me a quick picture of a dish. They’d send one over, doing their best in the middle of a busy shift, only for me to spot a sandwich served on a chipped plate. I’d gently ask for another, giving hyper-specific directions: it’s late afternoon, so take it to the front near the piano where the light is just right and turn the plate so we don’t see that chip.

It wasn't about being difficult. It was simply that I couldn't unsee the details. I deeply cared about conveying the actual craft taking place in that kitchen, honoring the mission, the vision, and the hard work our team put into every single plate.

Just last night, I was reminded of this delicate balance. I attended a Chartreuse workshop hosted by a client, going alongside another friend and client. The workshop was wonderful. I adored seeing my dear client share her passion for herbalism and cocktails—watching her and her teammate gush over the color, scent, and taste of their housemade liqueur (and let me tell you, it was divine). The room set the vibe, the food was perfect, and their energy carried us all. By the end of the evening, we got to talking about how hard it is to capture super cool, deeply immersive events like this on social media.

Because the truth is, some experiences just don't translate to a screen. Seeing a photo of a workshop doesn't cut it—you actually have to be in the room, feeling the energy and participating in the craft.

It brought up the age-old question for business owners: How do you get people to sign up for the cool thing you're building without losing your mind on social media?

It comes back to a quiet "if you build it, they will come" confidence. Manifesting an audience through genuine enthusiasm rather than forcing constant digital noise.

To be clear: I am not anti-social media. When we ran the bakery, we virtually never paid for traditional marketing—our growth was built on word-of-mouth and Instagram. I fully understand the power of social media to build a business, bring people through the door, and create real community.

But our landscape has changed. Between algorithmic status games, endless sponsored noise, and the rise of AI-generated content, our brains are constantly scanning screens. There’s a fine line between using social media as a genuine tool and letting it cheapen your real-world experiences.

The marketing that catches my eye today—the work I look into now—is holistic and rooted in raw, real craft. It’s the business owners who refuse to fall into every manufactured trend, who listen to their own voice, and who lean into the exact quirks that make their work human. When you build something truly special and set up the operational strength behind it, getting the right set of eyes on it isn't a game of chasing algorithms. It happens naturally because human beings are hungry for real connection.

Now, in my consulting work, things look different. I still go through phases where I feel that familiar, creeping pressure that I should be posting something. But through all the learning and growing of this past year, I’ve learned to pause when that urge comes up. I get outside, I write, or I push right past the artificial pressure and drop back into presence. I only post when it feels authentic, real, and helpful.

When your core mission is helping small business owners simplify their operations, eliminate burnout, and protect their energy, holding those boundaries is the ultimate proof-of-concept. Real business stamina comes down to three things:

• Building quiet operational strength behind the scenes so your business runs smoothly whether you’re online or off.

• Choosing presence over performance, remembering that the most important work happens in front of your eyes, not in the palm of your hand.

• Doing business on your own terms, trusting that high-value relationships, human authenticity, and exceptional real-world experiences will always speak louder than social media hype.

Looking back on this first year of bringing Keep Light to Instagram, my core belief hasn't shifted. Social media can be a wonderful place to share what you love, but real authenticity isn't something you perform for a grid. It’s how you run your business, treat your people, and honor your work in the physical world.

If you ever find yourself slipping into a compare-and-despair scroll sesh, feeling that creeping panic that everyone else is doing more, growing faster, or living a polished highlight reel—take a breath, put the phone down, and step back into reality.

The work in front of you is real. The craft is real. And the human connections you’re building will always mean more than an algorithm's seal of approval.

My goal for year two remains the same: helping you build a business that serves your life, not one that consumes it. Focus on the work right in front of you, trust your own timing, and keep it light.