Starting again.

No, not sobriety. Writing.

“Start writing.” That’s what the Substack prompt says. They make it sound so simple.

I’ve been wanting to write here consistently since opening this account; but it’s been well over a year since my last post. I chose to stay in my little bubble over on Instagram for the last couple years instead.

I guess it’s been my comfort zone. I’ve been writing openly about quitting drinking over there since 2020. And when I say writing, I mean writing to fit within in a 1080x1080 square jpeg and whatever the character limit is for captions.

Aesthetic photos. Canva posts. Quick pithy copy. Sobriety stuff, mainly. Not exclusively. But for the most part, sobriety content. The problem with that is, when you start amassing a following based on a specific topic — a specific part of you — you start to feel backed into a corner. Placed into a box. A box you made. But still, a box.

It took me about five years to organically grow a following of 20,000 people on Instagram.¹ It started as a private page, where I followed a handful of sober writers and community leaders, joined sobriety support groups, and shared about my own experience quitting drinking. At first, it was just for me.

Then people started noticing. Then I noticed them noticing. Then the way I wrote and expressed myself changed, too. I started writing based on how many people I thought would see it and hit the like button. Based on how I thought Meta’s algorithms would treat it. Based on how well it would “perform.” You know… views, likes, comments, saves, shares.

Then I started making videos. Maybe I’d go viral and reach more people with my message. Then I started asking myself questions: Should I be monetizing this? Should I be on TikTok? What’s my content strategy? What’s my niche? What’s my rate? What should I do when I hit 10k? Free stuff is cool. Should I be promoting all these discount codes? Is that too salesy? Should I be reaching out to brands to pitch paid collaborations? Should I pay $14.99 a month for a blue check mark? Should I be quitting my day job and going all-in on this?²

Before I knew it, I was a Sober Influencer™ with a Sober Podcast™.³

So? Isn’t that what I wanted? To spread my sobriety story to a growing audience of people who are sick of drinking and curious about life without alcohol? Yes, I wanted to do that. I was doing that. But it didn’t feel right any more.

Because I don’t want to be a Sober Influencer™. I don’t want to figure out my niche. I don’t want to write with metrics in mind. And lately, I’m paying more attention to that suffocating feeling I get after scrolling Instagram for more than 30 seconds.

So, this is me starting again. Breaking out of the box I put myself in. Going back to where I began: writing for me. This isn’t another “departure” from Instagram only to return a day later. I’ll share there when I feel compelled. And when I don’t, I won’t.

Sobriety is the way I’ve been able to make a lot of good things happen in my life. It’s a big thing. A really big thing. But it’s not everything.

I’ll be writing about more here. I don’t know exactly what this looks like yet, and that’s okay. I’m reminding myself that I don’t have to have it all figured out right now. I’m just getting started. In sobriety, in motherhood, in marriage, in my career. In figuring out who I want to be when I grow up.

I hope you’ll stick around and keep getting started with me.

Love,
Meg

1. That means I didn’t pay for followers, run any ads, or launch any paid brand sponsorships. My follower count there started declining once I started sharing more about my personal values and political opinions. And that’s totally fine with me.

2. No. I have been working my ass off for the last 12 years building my career in brand marketing and I love it.

3. Shameless plug. Listen to More Than Sobriety on Spotify or Apple Podcasts.