
A few months ago, I was at a cottage retreat and awoke the first day at 6am. I found that first instinct was to explore the new warming comforting environment with my phone. Then I found myself putting it away. For presence, and also for peace.
As the morning light shone through the windows onto the tables and the coffee purcolated in the kitchen. It was a moment; continued uninterrupted, unrecorded, mine.
That small decision has become a pattern. I suppose it occurred after last year’s car accident and new auto-immune diagnosis of Hashitoxicosis where my body became inflamed. I never thought I would have my body become a resentful friend of mine but perhaps it was telling me something.
Thus, I have not consistently been posting most of what I used to share, especially photos and videos.
It is because I have started to wonder what we lose when every meaningful moment is also a performance for an audience that was never actually there.
The cost of the recorded life
We rarely talk about this as a loss, because it does not look like one. It looks like connection, a full camera roll, a life well documented.
But something shifts the moment a camera enters a relationship. The dinner becomes a dinner-that-will-be-posted. The vulnerable conversation gets paused so someone can get the lighting right. We start narrating our lives to an audience instead of living them with the people actually in the room.
This matters most during transitions, in relationships, careers, identity, in how we show up for our families. Transitions need space to stay messy and unresolved before they are ready for an audience. Performed in real time, we lose the ability to let something be unfinished, ours, before it becomes anyone else’s to comment on.
Analog as a practice, not an aesthetic. At its core, it is not about the technology. It is about intentional experiences that exist because they happened, not because they were captured.
It requires deciding, on purpose, which moments belong to the algorithm and which belong only to the people who were actually there.
An invitation
If you are in a season of transition right now, I would offer this: not everything needs to be posted to be real. Some of the most important moments of our lives are the ones nobody else ever sees.
What would it look like to let a few more of yours play out off camera?
Shien Victoria Zutshi is an IB Educator, soon to be Psychotherapist (Qualifying), and founder of Equilibrium by Design. With 19 years in international education across Toronto, Paris, London, Stockholm, and Mumbai, she now works at the intersection of education, mental health, and intentional living, helping high achievers build lives that hold up under pressure. She is the author of Anxious & Ambitious: A 90-Day Confidence Reframe for the High Achiever.




