I Disappeared From Online and Social Media for a Month. Here Is What Actually Happened

If you follow me on Instagram, you may have noticed something in April.

I stopped.

No posts. No stories. No reels. No Monday emails landing in your inbox on cue. Just quiet.

And if you know me at all, you know that is not typical. Content is part of how I work. It is how I share what I know, how I connect with the people I am here to coach, and how I build the business that funds all of it. Showing up consistently has always mattered to me.

So, when I disappeared, it was not without thought. And it was not a rest.

That is the part I want to be honest with you about. I did not take April off. I kept coaching. I kept building programmes. I kept learning, training, and showing up for the people already in my world. What I did was step back from the performance of it. From being publicly visible. From the pressure of producing content on top of everything else.

And I want to tell you what that actually looked like, because I think there is something useful in it for you, too.

Visibility Is Not the Same as Value

There is a story we tell ourselves in the online space. That if you are not posting, you are not working. That consistency on social media equals commitment to your business. That if you go quiet, things will fall apart.

I believed a version of that story, too. Not consciously, but the anxiety was there. The low-level hum of: you should be posting. You should be showing up. People will forget you. The algorithm will bury you.

And then April arrived, and my body made a decision before my brain caught up.

I had been managing a significant shift in my hormonal health. For those who have been following along for a while, you will know that perimenopause has been part of my story for some time now. In April, I started HRT. I am not going to go into the full clinical picture here because that deserves its own conversation, and it is one I intend to have. But what I will tell you is this: the weeks after starting felt like fog lifting.

Creativity came back. Real creativity, not the forced kind where you stare at a blank Canva template trying to will yourself into producing something useful. The kind that wakes you up in the morning with ideas. The kind that makes you want to move, learn, and make things.

And in that space, I made a quiet decision. I was going to stop performing for the algorithm and start investing in things that actually mattered.

What I Did Instead

I want to be specific here, because I think the word rest gets used loosely and I do not want to romanticise what April was. It was not a holiday. It was a reorientation.

I completed my induction at the National Centre for Circus Arts. If you do not know what that is, it is one of the most prestigious circus training spaces in the country. Professional-grade equipment, a community of serious practitioners, and a standard that I have held in high regard for a long time. Being accepted to train there, as an independent practitioner, is something I am genuinely proud of. Younger me, the teenager who fell in love with aerial and barely knew that spaces like this existed, would have been quite emotional about it.

I also started going back to ballet. Not as cross-training in the functional sense, but as nourishment. As a reminder of where a lot of my movement understanding was built, and as a way of staying inspired as a teacher. You cannot keep giving from an empty place. I had been running close to empty for a while.

I brought a consistent Yoga and Reformer Pilates practice back into my week. Again, not as performance. Not because I was going to make content about it. Just because my nervous system needed it and my body was asking for it, and also to nourish my creativity as an instructor.

And I kept studying. I also completed a menopause coaching certification, and April gave me the time and mental space to actually engage with that material properly. The research, the clinical frameworks, the practical applications for women in movement. It is genuinely fascinating and it is shaping how I think about everything I do as a coach.

None of this appeared on Instagram. None of it was scheduled or batched or turned into a carousel. It just happened, quietly, in the background.

The Business Did Not Collapse

Here is the part that I think matters most.

I was off social media for a month. I did not send my regular emails. I was not posting reels, not responding to DMs in the usual way, not running any kind of visible promotional activity.

And the business kept moving.

Members of the Aerial Performance Lab kept training. Clients kept coaching sessions. The programmes I had built continued to do their job. The infrastructure held.

I am not telling you this to be smug about it. I am telling you because I think there is a genuinely important lesson here about what actually sustains a business versus what we convince ourselves is essential.

Consistent, high-quality work over time builds something that can carry you through a quiet period. It is not the volume of content you produce. It is the trust you have built, the quality of what you offer, and the systems you have put in place.

A month of silence did not erase that. If anything, it reminded me of how much of the anxiety around posting is just noise.

What I Am Choosing to Prioritise Now

Coming back into May, something feels different.

I am not rushing back onto the hamster wheel. I am not going to over-produce to compensate for April. I am coming back with more to say, more to offer, and a clearer sense of what actually matters.

The Aerial Performance Lab is open. The Straight-Arm Invert Lab is now available as a standalone programme for those who want more direct guidance on their invert work. I am studying, building, and planning something new for later this summer that I think is going to be genuinely useful for a specific kind of aerialist. More on that in time.

But mostly, I am thinking about sustainability. In training and in business. About what it looks like to build something that you can actually maintain over years, not just sprint through in bursts.

April taught me that stepping back from visibility does not mean stepping back from integrity. You can be committed to your work without performing that commitment for an audience every single day.

If This Resonates With You

Maybe you have had your own version of this. The month where something had to give. The season where you had to choose your actual life over the curated version of it.

I am building a space for the deeper conversations. The ones about training through hormonal change, about longevity in aerial, about what it means to stay in this art form for decades and not just years. If you want to be part of that conversation, you can join the Momentum list below.

No hard sell. No pressure. Just honest, useful writing, twice a week.

I am glad to be back.