When the Feed Is Silent: Reps for a Resilient Creator Heart

I’m just gonna say it—there’s a very specific kind of heartbreak that happens when you pour your heart into a post, your chest tightens as you press publish, and then… it gets 17 views and a spam comment about crypto.

If you’ve been there, this is for you.

This isn’t a strategy blog. I’m not gonna give you tips on hooks or hashtags. This is about what happens after you post. When the room goes quiet. When your nervous system starts spinning. When you wonder, “Should I just delete it?”

Let’s talk about the part of content creation no one claps for—and why it actually matters the most.

That quiet five minutes after you post? That’s the rep.

That’s the emotional push-up. That’s the capacity-building moment. The skill that gets you visible long-term isn’t consistency because you’re a disciplined little content machine. It’s your ability to stay with yourself when the metrics don’t reflect the energy it took to show up.

You don’t need more engagement hacks. You need more energetic endurance. And that doesn’t come from strategy. It comes from reps.

Reps look like…

Posting something honest, vulnerable, or kind of weird… and letting it live. Feeling the silence afterward… and not spiraling. Trusting your content still mattered even when no one clapped.

When I launched the second round of Vibrant Visibility, I was so in it. I was excited. I had an Asana board. The messaging felt so aligned. It was a full-body yes. And it flopped. Crickets. Not even the hopeful kind where you think maybe people are just waiting until Friday. Just silence.

And what hurt the most wasn’t the lack of sales—it was how proud I was of what I said, and how invisible it felt. But I didn’t delete anything. I didn’t pretend it didn’t happen.

Because I know this: impact lags behind visibility.

A couple months later, someone messaged me saying, “I watched every reel from that launch. I just wasn’t ready to work with anyone then. But now I’m in.” She paid in full for private coaching.

You’re not just making content. You’re building capacity.

This is nervous system work. It’s staying in your body after posting something tender. It’s resisting the urge to contort yourself to make it “land.”

Creating content—especially if you're a heart-led coach or healer—isn’t just about reach. It’s about regulation. You’re not wrong for feeling tender. You’re not broken because something flopped. You're just in the reps.

Start tracking what actually matters

Let’s be real. Most of the data we’re taught to track makes us feel like shit.

Here’s what I tell my clients to track instead:

• Did it feel true in your body when you posted it?

• Did it feel fun or meaningful to make?

• Was it easier to write than the last time you talked about that thing?

• Did even one person say, “This made me feel less alone”?

That’s what actually matters. That’s the kind of data that builds a sustainable business.

The drafts folder test

You know that post sitting in your drafts? The one you wrote three weeks ago and keep tweaking but never share? That’s probably the one someone needs to see.

Ask yourself: would I still post this if no one responded?

And if the answer is no, I want you to get curious—not judgmental, just curious. What are you waiting for? Is it fear of being misunderstood? Of being seen? Of being ignored?

Some of my favorite reels—the transition ones, the ones where I’m having fun or feeling cute—don’t always “perform.” But I love them. They were fun to make. That’s reason enough.

You need both buckets of content

Here’s how I think about content strategy in a way that actually feels sustainable:

Bucket one is your low-effort, low-stakes stuff that casts a wide net and brings new people into your world. These are often the silly, casual, or unexpected posts—the ones that don’t require tons of energy but keep you visible.

Bucket two is the deeper stuff—the posts that help the right people stay. That’s where your perspective, your story, your heart content lives.

Most people burn out because they’re trying to only post bucket-two content. They pour all their energy into something meaningful, post it, and then sit in silence. And when there’s no response, it’s devastating.

You need both. And the permission to let some of it be light. You’re allowed to create with joy, with ease, with barely any planning. That’s still valuable.

The real impact isn’t always loud

The people most affected by your work won’t always comment. They might be watching your stories on mute. Sitting with a post you wrote last month. Crying at 2 a.m. while scrolling through your videos.

I get DMs all the time from people who’ve never liked or commented but were deeply impacted by something I shared. And I promise—those messages always come after I’ve already questioned if that post was a mistake.

So no, you’re not imagining it. The silence is hard. But it’s not a sign to stop. It’s a sign to keep building your capacity to stay.

Before you go

If you’re sitting on a post you’ve been scared to share, consider this your sign.

Post it. Not because the algorithm approves. Not because it will go viral. Not because it’s perfectly timed.

Post it because it’s true. Because it’s yours. Because your body said yes.

And if you want support holding that kind of steady visibility—when it’s quiet, when it’s scary, when it’s deeply honest—Vibrant Visibility is where we do that work together.

The waitlist is open. You can come sit with us.

XO,
Shawne