Irrelevancy Will Save You
On the beauty of being obscure.
I’m coming up on some type of Substack anniversary. I don't know exactly how many days it’s been, I haven’t really been counting, but I reckon it's been a little over three months. So, congrats to me! Ha!
During this time, I also made the decision to deactivate Instagram. Yes, I know; so stunning and brave. I'll wait for the applause to settle before I continue.
At any rate, there were a host of reasons I made this decision, but one of the primary ones was that it was becoming increasingly more difficult to get off of it. My brain cells were being zapped left and right; I was finding myself on that algorithmic slot machine almost constantly and yet, every time I thought to take a step back, there was a voice saying “nooo. . . think about your content.” Even using that word, content, is crazy work because I’m talking about things that I literally birthed from the depths of my soul — my artistic creations — but like so many others, I had been conditioned to see those things as “products.” Blech.
So I kept myself on that digital hamster wheel of a technocrat's wet dream, all the while convincing myself this was The Way. I just had to be patient — that’s what they promised: that the “engagement” from strangers, or sometimes friends, would actually amount to something real. Kind of like the way it “used to be” on that platform. But the meaning never came, and the promise was never fulfilled. Instead, I sat at the brainrot intersection of cat reels and doomscroll. I was losing the battle and the war.
But it was just like any other toxic dynamic: the more you’re rejected, the harder you work for the validation. So even while trapped in that cycle, asking myself, "for the love of God, what is the point of this?” I doubled down. I kept posting and sharing, bound to the platform because my page was tied to my work. And what are you constantly told as a “brand”? That you have to be visible. That you have to “put yourself out there.” Don't fade away into obscurity, right? Anything but that.
Every time I wanted to deactivate, I would come back to the fact that I had worked so hard to build that online portfolio of sorts. I couldn't just burn that all down. I couldn't just leave all my, wait for it, “content” and become invisible. Irrelevant. So I stayed longer than I should have (story of my life) and my mind continued turning to mush.
Until one day, I'd had enough. I left and didn't look back, which brings me back to my opening paragraph: being on Substack.
Unlike other platforms I've been on, including the one I've been discussing, I'm under no delusion that I will skyrocket in followers here. It is slow-going, and that works well for me. I have enjoyed cultivating a small little place here, and I have greatly enjoyed connecting with other kindred spirits.
It’s quiet here. It has the feeling of a country porch on a summer evening where things aren't rushed, a place where you can just lollygag, listen to the crickets, and be lazy. I feel like my nearest virtual neighbor is maybe a mile away. I don't feel necessarily known, but I don't feel necessarily alone.
I find that so many people believe that irrelevancy is almost the same as death: as in, if you aren't notable, you cease to exist. But I want to counter that with the following:
Maybe irrelevancy is actually the point. To be "relevant" often calls to mind an influencer or some personality famous for being famous. People who seem to exist solely to have their name in other people's mouths. That kind of so-called relevancy can strip you of your humanity and the ability to just be.
Of course, it's a natural human inclination to want to share and expand. That's what we're wired to do. But there's a big difference between being in constant motion just for the sake of it and wanting to be seen in a way that is consistent with who you are and being known by people whose validation actually matters to you. By releasing yourself from the frenzy of needing numbers and presence to feel worthy, you can see more clearly that you have inherent dignity and inherent worth (or relevancy). Neither of which needs to be approved by scores of strangers online or in any other medium. And that realization just might save you.
