Redirect, Refine, & Restore: Leaving Social Media, Editing My Career, and Building What’s Next

Disclaimer: Possibly an unpopular topic. Read at your own risk of rethinking how you are spending your time.

A year ago this month, I—like many of us probably have—felt the urge to take a social media break. What started as a temporary pause turned into a long-term pivot to leave the digital deluge altogether. Now that I’ve made an entire “trip around the sun” without hundreds of little red notifications pulling me away from a task being done or a memory being made, I thought I’d share the results of going “off the (social media) grid.”

I think it’s worth noting that before I made this decision, I had been feeling an inward retreat when it came to content creation—something unnatural for me, because I love to create and share. There was a growing pressure from my audience (mostly real estate colleagues and clients at the time), like onlookers quietly judging how and where I was spending my time and what I was choosing to build. That… is where it started.

Doomscrolling for Days

After I hit delete on the apps, a few hours later—and in the weeks that followed—I went through withdrawals. I was actually jonesing. My thumb kept phantom-searching for those square icons that had falsely fed me hits of dopamine.

The doomscrolling for hours had added up to literal days of my life gone, with nothing to show for it—except maybe an unexplained low mood and the lingering feeling of not doing enough or being enough. Sure, some posts were poetic, and I’d occasionally find inspiration in others’ content. But mostly, I was consuming the ugly, unreal side of the internet that left me with an internal ick. What I was allowing into my body through this consumption was anything but positive or productive. At best, it was comparison disguised as motivation—to achieve more and more and more.

Surely I’m not the only one.

After about a month, the next few things I noticed during this digital detox were life-changing. I was getting better sleep. I felt lighter. I was in my life instead of watching it go by.

I started baking bread. I found my way back to painting—instead of just fantasizing about simpler, slower ways of spending my time. I read eight books in about eight months (huge for my “too guilty to spend time reading” self). And yes, some were audiobooks—but still. Time well spent. Knowledge well absorbed.

Because I’ll never not be a content creator, I have this vision of someone asking me, “So what’s it like living under a rock?” And me responding by showing a series of video scenes of:

“THE ROCK I’VE BEEN LIVING UNDER” aka… my real life.

Cue scenes of what I’ve been doing instead of scrolling my life away:

• Baking: *a fresh loaf right out of the oven*

• Gardening: *growing flowers in my backyard*

• Painting: *a watercolor scene coming to life*

• Building: *a chicken coop Dutch door from scratch*

• Traveling: *drinking coconut water in the ocean*

• Playing: *choo-choo trains in the sunlight*

All of this—and so much more—was made possible by turning my attention away from something that no longer served me.

I’m not saying it’s impossible to experience these things with social media in the mix. But I am saying that, for me, everything has been more vivid without the pressure of capturing and captioning for the sake of feeding the algorithm.

I’ve heard it said, “Instagram eats first,” and “It didn’t happen unless it’s on Facebook.” But here’s the thing—I want to enjoy my food while it’s still hot. I want to share milestones with my people before the rest of the world ever sees it… much less weighs in on it.

Looking back, my exodus from external validation couldn’t have come at a better time—because I was about to need every ounce of extra time I could get in a day.

Simultaneously with this decision, Kyle and I entered one of the most time-consuming, mind-melting, suspense-driven seasons of business: a potential acquisition. Not once, but twice, we went through diligence periods. (I’ll likely elaborate on this in another post.)

That being said, I found myself at yet another fork in the road when it came to where I would point my focus…

The Boerne We Bargained For

For context, the juggling act we Rainey's had going on at the time included: raising a three-year-old with second-to-none negotiating skills, running two businesses across multiple cities, coming off a victorious—but draining—federal lawsuit, entering acquisition diligence, and managing several million dollars in real estate listings.

Oh—and did I mention? We bought a 1900's home with an 1800's goat barn in Boerne, that we were knee-deep in renovating, adding onto, and building a freestanding studio-greenhouse on the property.

Yeah… sounds right.

Just writing this makes me go cross-eyed at the thought of keeping up with the silent-but-deadly demands of social media on top of everything else. It was time to simplify.

And in more ways than one.

Not long after sharing the news with a few close friends—and certainly after much, much debate—I decided to take more than just a temporary break from real estate as I knew it.

Real Estate Redirect

Sometimes in life, there’s a crash or breakdown that forces a new decision. Other times—like a train on a railway—it’s a quiet redirection. The kind where the track shifts beneath you, and suddenly you’re headed somewhere entirely new.

This was the case for my career as a traditional realtor.

From interior design graduate to rookie real estate agent, I felt an invisible pull toward guiding people—and businesses made of people—through the process of homes changing hands.

It was a fast and furious few years.

As I look back, moments flash before my eyes: door-knocking my very first listing—which turned into a historic Hill Country estate—receiving the “Risk Taker” award from Chip Gaines himself, cold-calling builders to land and list multiple spec homes under contract before they were even built using 3D renderings, guest speaking on a real estate podcast and at conferences, and capturing my process along the way to create online training courses and e-books for realtors like 5 Million in 5 Months & The Builder Blueprint.

While those soaring highs were ever-present, they came with their share of free-falls—cancelled contracts, demanding weekend hours, and a few soul-crushing interactions that come with “playing in the big leagues” as I was told at the time.

This year, I officially decided to step away from traditional real estate—referring out my listings and giving my best no’s to any new client-facing work as a realtor.

Back Where It All Began

If my real estate license is a racehorse, I’m not getting rid of it—I’m simply putting it out to pasture. I’ll take it out for a ride when I want to… for the joy of it.

(And I already have—twice—since making this decision.)

Coming soon, you’ll hear more about a couple of real estate projects of our own: The Dogtrot House & The Pecan House. Two special family heritage gems that I can’t wait to share as they’re restored and transformed—currently being taken down to the studs as we speak, with big plans ahead. Think: abandoned farmhouse turned magazine-worthy country cabin, and... a forgotten family home reimagined into a fully booked Airbnb (fingers crossed).

But first, I want to bring you into The Boerne House, because wow—it has no shortage of character and charm as we build this beautiful life in the very first town Kyle and I called home as newlyweds almost 14 years ago.

You’ll get a behind-the-scenes look at how we reimagined this property by taking down loadbearing walls, moving rooms and windows like they were Tetris blocks, adding a greenhouse and garden with a tiny-cathedral-cottage-vibe-studio, bringing this place to life one design decision at a time.

Originally meant for a flip project, but ended up being a full-circle moment for us.

Less Noise, More Life

If there’s anything this past year taught me, it’s this: you’re allowed to step away from what no longer serves you—even if it once did.

Whether that’s social media, your career, certain people, or the expectations you’ve been carrying… you can choose differently.

For me, that meant unplugging from the noise and editing my life in a way that made more room for what actually matters.

If you’ve been feeling that nudge, consider this your permission to explore it.

I’m so glad you’re here.

Please stay tuned—and thank you for staying with me.

xo,

Christa