Assalamu’alaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuh.

Life has been a whirlwind lately. I’ve fallen behind on my weekly blogging schedule, and for good reason—my husband and I have been busy packing up our lives. We’ve decided to move, temporarily, to my parents’ home. It wasn’t something we ever planned. In fact, we were just settling into our own place, feeling comfortable and rooted. But then, the baby came into the picture.

I remember our first night in that home, right after our Nikah, which was held at the same venue. My husband described it as feeling “complete,” and I couldn’t agree more. That place holds so much nostalgia—it was where we spent our first year of marriage, building our life together. Now, our child will only know it through pictures, and that thought tugs at my heart. We never planned to move until we were financially stable and settled as a couple. But life, as always, had other plans.

And then there’s the PCOS drama that’s been a part of my life for the past five years. It made me think nothing would change. But Allah plans, and He knows best. His plans are always greater than ours.

Speaking of plans, I’ve been doing a lot of introspection lately. Being pregnant and without a traditional job has given me the space to sort out my priorities. One thing is clear: I want to become a Work-At-Home-Mum. With the skills I have, I believe this is the path I’m meant to prepare for.

To achieve this, I’ve taken a bold step—I’ve disappeared from social media. After years of being active online, I realized I had allowed myself to be swallowed by the need to entertain others, to mold my life to fit public standards, and in the process, I neglected what truly matters: my life.

Blogging, for me, has always been a personal “pensieve”—a reflection of my reality. It’s more authentic than curated selfies or filtered snapshots. Words, though often misunderstood, have a way of cutting straight to the heart of things. But over time, maintaining a blog became time-consuming, and I started to wonder: What am I really wasting my time on?

Technology has made it possible for anyone to recreate their reality, to present a version of themselves that serves others’ expectations. Whether that’s good or bad depends entirely on your intentions. For me, it became a trap. With over 9,000 followers on my personal Instagram and 7,000 on my writing account, I hit the delete button. And honestly? It felt like freedom.

Instagram had become a chain. As someone who values freedom above all, I couldn’t let myself be held captive by an app. The ease of snapping a photo, cropping it, and applying filters had turned me into an “instant photographer.” As an art and tech enthusiast, I was initially enchanted by this simplicity. But over time, I realized: This isn’t art. Where’s the love? The dedication? The passion? The patience and effort that true art demands?

I found myself staring at my neglected Nikon DSLR, realizing that photography—real photography—isn’t instant. It’s deliberate. It’s intentional. And so is life.

Even my blogging had fallen into hiatus as I navigated this transition. Microblogging on Instagram became a convenient crutch. But if I kept licking my wounds, would they ever heal? No. I had to bandage them, stand up, and move forward.

Instagram became my silent companion, much like alcohol was before I reverted to Islam. Alcohol gave me an escape, a way to avoid reality. And while I even wrote during those drunken moments, it was never truly productive. It was just an easy way out. Instagram, in its own way, became another escape—a place where I could curate a version of myself for a make-believe audience, chasing likes and comments.

I turned to my empty domains, their blank landing pages staring back at me. Have I forgotten my real abilities? Coding, illustration, graphic design, content writing—these are my strengths. Yet, I had reduced myself to a selfie-taking, food-posting millennial, tied to the fleeting fame of social media. Looking at my list of followers, I realized I didn’t even know most of them. And those who did know me? They became unwitting spectators, even stalkers, of my life.

Don’t get me wrong—I’m not against social media. I’ve enjoyed it, used it, and even benefited from it. But it’s time to cut the noise and use it for something meaningful, not just as a platform for showing off or feeding the human need for attention—a need that supposedly fades after childhood.

The only reason I’ve kept Facebook is for online marketing. Unlike Instagram, I’ve limited it to friends, family, and acquaintances. But even there, I’ve used it the wrong way. We all have. We share too much, open ourselves up to judgment, and create a stalker’s paradise. I’m not closing Facebook—not yet—but I’ve deleted everyone except my immediate family and husband. This isn’t about blaming social media for my life’s drama. It’s about taking responsibility.

Enough is enough. I need more time—time for myself, for my loved ones, for my real life. I need to feel at home with myself, by myself. And most importantly, I need to enhance my skills, to make use of my talents and my active domains. I’m building a little home on the internet, a space that reflects who I truly am.

Since stepping away from social media, I’ve already achieved so much:

• I’ve practiced IT support for other bloggers, honing my technical skills.
• I’ve returned to weekly blogging, rebuilding my confidence in writing.
• I’ve completed an online Islamic Studies certificate and am now pursuing a diploma.
• I’ve connected with new blogging friends and made my mark in the community.

Some might say these are just more ways of diving into virtual reality, but I’ve balanced them with real-life activities. Blogging has become a space for self-expression, a portfolio of my work, and a stepping stone toward my goal of becoming a Work-At-Home-Mum.

The best part? Less drama. Who even reads blogs these days? Certainly not the people scrolling through Instagram or Facebook. And that’s okay. My blog isn’t for them—it’s for me. It’s a space where I can share my deepest thoughts without the pressure of likes or comments.

With Instagram gone, I’ve found a new way to express myself—through my blog, with pictures that come from real effort and dedication. Photography, graphic design, and editing are becoming part of my portfolio, something I can be proud of as I build my online business. In Shaa’ Allah.

I still have a lot of catching up to do with myself. But I’m me, and for all the years I wasted chasing validation online, no one saw the real me behind the facade. It’s action time now.

Nice to meet you.