Ep. 395: Should I Try a “Social Media Pause”?

I dropped by The Minimalists’ studio in early 2024, and a casual riff turned into Joshua publicly committing the team to quit social media for the rest of the year; I framed it as an experiment, not a detox, to learn what truly helps or harms the work and the people doing it.

Before the pause we were a daily-clip machine with a social lead, a video lead, and the whole team debating which reels to post; Lent was coming, key teammates were moving on, and your push helped us extend my personal break to a full-year pause for us and the brand.

You paused both personally and as a company after heavy reliance on posting—what pain made you open to it?

We were losing trusted people and time to a posting treadmill, while craving space for live shows, counseling, a course, and book ideas; it felt like the right moment to test what social was actually buying us versus what it was costing.

You came in curious, not crusading; what was happening inside you that made a personal pause feel meaningful?

I see phones like a seduction you let in with the right story, so I chose a permissionless experiment—like the years I blogged daily—to ask who I might become without the instant broadcast hit.

So, once the break began, what actually changed—good, bad, unexpected?

When I couldn’t post a thought, I kept it, walked with it, and went deeper; I also remembered long-form focus from my advisor-licensing days and realized my attention had atrophied, then felt real fear about going back without a philosophy for it.

What did the business feel when you stepped off the feeds?

Some fans were disappointed, then the algorithm stopped surfacing us, which slowed YouTube growth and, crucially, fewer people found our Patreon—the main revenue—so it was like shutting a bustling corner store and expecting everyone to find the website.

Could you make it sustainable, or did you need to return—and how?

Josh sees social as a net positive if we’re not beholden to it, so we came back looser—fewer, truer posts, no chasing trends—and we learned how fickle it all is, like views cratering because mics hid our mouths until we moved them and reach snapped back.

Fast-forward to early 2025—what’s your personal state of mind?

I enjoyed being off but felt pressured to be on, and every post felt forced and a little cheap; I even fantasized about being an electrician like my brother so my livelihood wouldn’t depend on feeds, while staying open to creating as a hobby or in a new format.

The pause seems to have cleared space for you to notice what matters; how did that clarity show up?

Without the urge to perform, I talked more with my wife, volunteered, chased real-world novelty, and had long, unrecorded philosophy debates; those experiences felt richer than posting, and they pulled me toward living from the deep self.

Social media’s strongest defense is that it fogs the very thinking needed to question it; your and Josh’s different outcomes prove the win is clarity, not a one-size verdict.

Two forces pull you back—the social chorus telling you it’s fine and the feeling that it’s pragmatically unavoidable—so it’s like being a gambling and drinking addict whose barber and grocery store are inside the casino, yet the real adventure is returning to that interior vantage point and letting life flow from there; thank you for helping me minimize the sense of loss.

Beautifully said—and now you’ve made it tough to launch a line of wardrobe-swap dance clips without breaking hearts; jokes aside, here’s a simple way to run your own pause.

Be specific about what stops and any narrow exceptions, set a clear duration—thirty days works—use the space to try fuller ways of living and reflect honestly, then debrief and commit to concrete changes; the goal is self-knowledge you can act on.