Your sadness isn't a sales funnel, if you don't want it to be

You don't have to give your full life over to social media if you don't want to

It’s 10:30 AM, the end of the time I’ve blocked off for “LinkedIn Marketing,” and I’m feeling at a loss.

I’ve just scrolled through an endless feed of posts:

• “Yesterday I sobbed in the parking lot of a London Drugs, and now I understand content strategy.”

• “My fiance proposed to me and it made me reflect on boundaries.”

• “My vacation to Spain taught me that healing is a sales funnel. Here’s my 6-step emotional sales framework, complete with beach photos that are obviously relevant. Because the ocean is also like a sales funnel, if you really think about it.”

And sometimes I’m left wondering: Do I have to bare my soul on social media just to get noticed?

I consider it, for a moment.

Could I turn my dog’s death into a business lesson for social media? Something about decision making, or taking walks, or resilience? But every time I reach for the keyboard, I stop. Something about it just doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel like me and it doesn’t feel like it honours him, at all.

So how do I compete with the people who live their lives fully on social media, sharing every moment, (good and bad, euphoric and tragic) when I really just want to talk about content?

Me, contemplating my next deeply personal post. Photo by Karsten Winegeart on Unsplash

I believe that most freelancers need to maintain at least some social media to ensure the world is aware of their existence. But that doesn’t mean I think you need to bare your soul to do it.

Lately, I’ve been considering my thoughts on the following:

- What’s the line between being vulnerable and oversharing?
- How do we show up publicly when what we’re feeling is deeply private?
- Even though I believe the personal and professional intersect, does that mean I have to share things I believe are personal?

For a long time now, I’ve been cautious about what I share on social media

After my dad passed away, the local paper turned the school district’s decision to close schools for his service into a Facebook poll asking whether people agreed with it. Some of the comments were kind. Others accused us (the family) of being selfish (we had literally zero input into the school district’s decision).

That moment stuck with me. It showed me how quickly something deeply personal can be stripped of context for the sake of engagement.

And it wasn’t the last time I learned that lesson.

Years later, I made what I thought was a friendly post advocating for freelancers to charge what they’re worth. And the comments? A mess. Personal attacks, bizarre assumptions, a full-on derailment. All because I shared a sliver of my perspective.

It reminded me: once something’s public, you don’t control how it’s received. People don’t always come with compassion—or even context.

You don’t owe social media your grief

Or your joy. Or your behind-the-scenes story. If it doesn’t feel right to share it, you don’t have to, regardless of what the person next door is sharing.

Being authentic doesn’t mean sharing everything. It means showing up in a way that’s natural to you.

It means sharing only what you’re okay with a stranger knowing, and possibly commenting on, questioning, disagreeing with, or completely misinterpreting. Because no matter how uncontroversial you think your post is, there is always someone out there ready to turn your vulnerable moment into an invitation to attack you from the safety of their keyboard.

So if you’re in a hard season and you're not sure how—or if—you want to show up, here’s a simple framework:

Ask yourself

1. Would I share this with someone I barely know in real life?

2. Am I okay hearing opinions, advice, or criticism about this? (Because if you don’t think you’re going to face some, congratulations on having just joined the internet.)

3. Am I sharing this because I want to?

4. Will I still feel okay about having shared this next week or next year?

If the answer to any of these is no, it’s okay to keep it to yourself.

• You don’t have to mine your life for content.

• You don’t have to give every part of yourself away.

• You get to choose what you share, when you share it, and who you share it with.

You can also wait to share your story. You might be more comfortable sharing your thoughts after some time has passed when you’re no longer in the thick of it and you have some distance and perspective.

Don’t compare your content to someone else’s highlight reel or emotional deep-dive. And don’t try to emulate someone whose style or boundaries are nothing like yours.

If you start to write a post and your stomach gets queasy like you’ve just eaten something that went bad two days ago, trust that feeling. While I have regretted oversharing, I have never regretted keeping certain things private.

If you want to share everything and that feels okay to you, that’s fine. Some people thrive in that. But don’t let anyone convince you that authenticity requires full exposure.

What is authenticity?

Authenticity means being true to yourself, including your comfort level, your values, and your boundaries.

Because when we start treating every moment of heartbreak or hardship as something to package and perform, especially just to drive engagement, it can erode our ability to actually experience real moments. Everything becomes performative; a commodity for someone else to consume. Don’t force yourself to be comfortable with that if you aren’t.

I’ve shared personal stories before in this newsletter, where the space feels more intimate and the conversation allows for context and nuance. Where I trust the audience. Where the personal struggles form part of my overall message about freelancing and it’s important to acknowledge where the personal and professional intersect.

But that’s different than posting on social media, where context gets lost, reach is unpredictable, every post can become a performance, and every “like” feels like an invitation to share something even more personal next time.

In my opinion, some things are better held in quiet corners, not broadcast into the algorithm. Some things are meant to be for me and me alone. I don’t want other people’s thoughts on those situations—I don’t care to hear their “hot take” or their “gut reaction.” I just want to feel what I feel without using it to build my brand, push my business further, or find a way to monetize it. And that’s okay.

Something to reflect on:

We’re often told to be “authentic” online—but what does that mean for you? It’s important to set guidelines for yourself, so you know what you’re okay with sharing and what you aren’t.

It’s easy to confuse vulnerability with sharing everything, especially when the lines feel blurry. But authenticity doesn’t mean you have to give everything away. It means showing up in a way that feels true to you.

Take a moment to journal on this:

• What parts of my life feel too personal to share widely?

• What stories do I want to share and who are they for?

• When I post something vulnerable, what am I hoping people take from it?

• What does authenticity mean to me, and how does that shape the way I show up?

• How do I feel reading other people’s deeply vulnerable posts?

• Who is my audience and would I want them to read my deepest, innermost thoughts?

And if you’re not sure where to start, try finishing this sentence:

“The version of myself I want to share is someone who…”

Here’s to your continued success,

Heidi

When you’re ready:

• Get my guide to sharing on social media when you’re not sure how much you want to share.

• Book a 1-1 consultation to get clarity on the next steps you need to take to move your business forward.