Ten Years of Take Flight Lessons

Take Flight turned ten recently, and my biggest lesson has been learning to respect the seasons of entrepreneur life.

This year specifically has reminded me that I am one person. Just one. I cannot do everything and that’s okay. Maybe someone else can. Maybe no one can. It really doesn’t matter, because I’m me, and I have to work within what is realistic for my life, my energy, and my capacity.

Over the years, I’ve learned to let my business adapt to those seasons instead of constantly trying to push through them. There are seasons when I can pour a lot into my work, and there are seasons when I can barely give it anything extra at all. And I’m learning that both are okay.

There may be seasons when I’m not marketing the way I “should.” I might not book as much work. I might need to step back. But that doesn’t mean everything is falling apart, it just means I’m in a different season. And seasons always end.

When those harder seasons pass, I usually find myself coming back with renewed energy, fresh perspective, and more to give. That’s why I’m trying to respect wherever I am instead of worrying that a slower or heavier season is permanent. It isn’t. And the good seasons aren’t permanent either, which reminds me not to take those for granted.

One thing I’ve also had to get really honest about is making sure I truly love what I do.

As social media managers, there’s so much pressure to have impressive numbers, high engagement, and trend-driven, scroll-stopping content. But the longer I do this work, the more I realize how much of that doesn’t really matter. The algorithms change constantly. Platforms shift the rules overnight. And lately, with my own issues with Meta, I’ve had a very real reminder of how fragile it can be to build a business on platforms we don’t actually control.

It reinforced something I’ve been telling clients for years: we have to diversify where our work and our voices live. No single platform should hold all the power over your business.

And for me, that’s also meant starting to show up differently… leaning into video, sharing more of my voice, and not hiding behind perfectly designed content.

What matters most to me now is storytelling and the real people behind the brands. Relationships, trust, connection, and authenticity will outlast whatever algorithm happens to be running the show.

And while Take Flight is very much my business, I haven’t done every piece of it alone. Over the past decade I’ve had the opportunity to work with talented freelancers and collaborators who stepped in during different seasons to help support client work and creative projects. Small businesses often grow this way; through waves of opportunity and through the people who contribute their talents along the way, and I’m incredibly grateful for that support.

Over time, I’ve also stopped worrying so much about what other people in the industry think. I’m learning that I have to do this work in a way that feels right to me.

I don’t want to burn myself out trying to impress anyone.

I want to tell meaningful stories, work with people I enjoy, diversify where my work lives, protect my health, and give myself grace when I need to slow down.

The ebb and flow is part of it all… in life and in business.

And ten years in, I’m finally learning to respect that.

Ten years in, and I’m curious to see what the next season of Take Flight brings.

Before You Post: A 5-Step "Read the Room" Check for Small Business Owners

Posting on social media isn’t just about staying visible anymore. It’s about staying aware. Every platform has its own tone.  Every audience has its own expectations. And in today’s climate; culturally, politically, and globally even well-intentioned content can be interpreted in ways you didn’t anticipate.

Just this week, I found myself having a thoughtful pause with a client over a Women’s History Month post. The intention was simple: celebration and recognition, but as we talked it through with our client, we realized it could be perceived as (too) political by part of their audience. Nothing inflammatory. Nothing extreme. Just a reminder that intention and interpretation are not always the same.

That’s where strategy matters.

Before you hit publish, run your content through this five-step filter:

1. Does this move the needle for my business?

Is this aligned with my goals ; building trust, visibility, sales, or authority? Or am I posting just to fill a space on the calendar?

2. Is this consistent with my brand values?

A strong brand voice is rooted in clarity. If the post feels reactive or out of character, pause.

3. Have I considered the timing?

Take a minute to scan the landscape. What’s happening nationally? Locally? Within your industry? Context changes everything.

4. Am I prepared to engage in conversation?

If this sparks questions, or pushback, am I ready to respond thoughtfully and stand behind it?

5. Do I actually need to say this?

Not every trend requires your participation. Not every moment needs your commentary. Sometimes restraint is the most strategic move.

At Take Flight, we believe organic growth is built on trust, not noise. And trust is built through consistency, discernment, and awareness. The most effective brands online aren’t the loudest.

They’re the most intentional.

Before you post, pause. A few extra seconds of reflection can protect your reputation and strengthen your impact long-term.

We Don’t Own Any of This: What Losing My Instagram Taught Me

Almost three weeks ago, I lost access to my Instagram and Facebook accounts without warning.

No explanation.
No clear next step.
No way to talk to a human.

Just… gone.

For someone who runs a social media consulting business, it felt surreal. This is the space I help clients navigate every day and suddenly, I was locked out of it entirely.

What I Lost (and What It Represented)

It wasn’t just an account.

It was:

• 18+ years of personal history

• 10 years of Take Flight Social Media Consulting

• 5 years of book reviews and content

• Professional connections and ongoing work

But it was also something much more personal.

After our parents passed away in 2007, my sister encouraged me to join Facebook. Some of their students and colleagues had created a Facebook group, and reading through the stories, memories, and condolences became unexpectedly therapeutic. That was almost 19 years ago.

Those accounts didn’t just hold content; they held moments, connections, and pieces of my life that can’t be recreated.

Early last week, when I was starting to lose hope of ever regaining access, I told a friend over dinner that if I could just have two hours back in my accounts, I would screenshot everything.

Being locked out meant I couldn’t even download my own content. There were so many people I couldn’t reconnect with because I only knew them through these platforms.

That was the hardest part for me, not just the content, but the years of connection.

And that’s when it really hit me: We don’t own any of this.

Building on Borrowed Platforms

As business owners, we pour time, energy, and creativity into platforms like Instagram and Facebook.

We show up consistently.
We create content.
We build relationships.

But at the end of the day, these platforms are not ours.

They can change the rules.
They can change the algorithm.
And yes, they can take away access without warning.

Even when you’ve done everything right.

What This Experience Taught Me

This experience didn’t just disrupt my business, it shifted my perspective. Here’s what I’m taking forward:

1. Diversification isn’t optional — it’s necessary.

We cannot rely on one platform to carry our entire business.

2. Owned platforms matter more than ever.
Your website. Your email list. Your content archives. These are the things you actually control.

3. Consistency matter, but so does protection.
Showing up online is powerful, but we also need systems in place to protect what we’re building.

What I’m Doing Differently Moving Forward

I’m still showing up on social media. I still love what I do, and I believe in the power of these platforms.

But I’m approaching it differently:

• Prioritizing my website and blog content

• Being more intentional about where and how I build community

• Expanding onto platforms like LinkedIn and Pinterest to diversify where my content lives and is discovered

• Thinking long-term about ownership, not just visibility

A Note to Small Business Owners

If your business relies on social media (and most of ours do), this is something to think about.

Not from a place of fear but from a place of awareness.

Because the reality is: You can do everything right… and still lose access.

I’m Back, But With a New Perspective

I did eventually receive a message from Instagram stating:

“We’re sorry we got this wrong and that you weren’t able to use Instagram for a while. Sometimes we need to take action to help keep our community safe.”

Apparently, something I had shared to my personal Stories was flagged, though I was never given any specific details beyond that. For now, my accounts (all of them) have been restored, though I still have some restrictions in place through April 3.

I’m incredibly grateful to have access back. Having the suspension lifted didn’t undo the lesson because I’m also walking away from this experience with a deeper understanding of the risks and a stronger commitment to helping my clients build sustainable, resilient online presences.

Because social media is a tool.

Not a guarantee.

If this experience taught me anything, it’s this: build your business on something you own and let social media support it, not define it.

If you’re building your business primarily on social media, it might be time to rethink your foundation. I’d be happy to help.

We’re Building Businesses on Platforms We Don’t Control—Here’s My Reality Right Now

The suspension of my Meta accounts is still ongoing.

One encouraging update since my last post: a client whose account was also affected has regained access with all of her followers and content intact. For the moment, we’re adjusting how we work together. I’m continuing to create and plan her content, and she is logging in and publishing it on her end. I’m choosing not to log into her account myself until this situation is fully resolved, simply out of an abundance of caution.

It’s not the most efficient workflow, but it allows us to keep moving forward while we wait for Meta’s review process to play out.

That said, I’m still incredibly frustrated.

I’ve moved past the initial shock and confusion and, if I’m being honest, I’m probably now in the anger phase of this experience. Being accused of violating community standards related to child sexual exploitation is extremely serious, and it’s something I know with complete certainty I have never done.

At times, the process feels opaque and deeply impersonal. When enforcement decisions appear to be driven by automated systems, it can leave users feeling like they have very little recourse or ability to explain what actually happened.

At the same time, I’ve taken a number of formal steps to try to resolve this, including submitting multiple appeals, attempting identity verification, and filing a consumer complaint with the California Attorney General’s office.

I also attempted to start fresh with a new account, which was quickly flagged and disabled during the verification process.

Despite these efforts, I have yet to receive a clear path forward.

I’ve also signed onto a petition, now with over 60,000 people and growing, calling for greater accountability from Meta. If you or someone you know has been affected by a Meta account suspension, you can add your voice here.

I’ve also joined others in exploring a potential class action related to situations like this.

Next steps on my end include sending formal correspondence to Meta’s legal department and potentially engaging an attorney.

This situation has forced me to step back from Instagram in a way I probably wouldn’t have otherwise. And I’ve realized just how easily the platform had become a default in my daily life. The instant gratification, the scrolling, the constant stream of information filling small pockets of downtime almost automatically.

Losing access has made me realize how much we rely on these platforms, not just professionally, but personally as well.

It has also made one thing very clear: we are ultimately building businesses on platforms we do not control.

One of my biggest takeaways so far is that I wish I had focused earlier on diversifying, especially growing my email list and investing more time in platforms that aren’t all owned by the same company.

While I wait to see what happens next, I’m exploring other spaces more intentionally, including LinkedIn, Pinterest, and TikTok. Not because I want to spend more time on social media, but because this experience has reinforced the importance of meeting audiences in multiple places.

I’m also trying to use this moment differently. Without access to Instagram, I’m not staring at analytics, engagement numbers, or algorithm changes. Instead, I’m simply focusing on creating good content and thinking more deeply about how I can support my clients; especially when they encounter challenges like this.

Because I know I’m not the only person this has happened to.

Over the past week I’ve read countless blog posts, Reddit threads, and listened to podcasts from creators and business owners who have experienced similar suspensions. In a strange way, that has been incredibly reassuring.

This situation has been stressful, frustrating, and at times surreal. But it’s also forcing me to rethink how I approach the platforms that play such a big role in my work.

For now, I’m waiting… And I’m also preparing myself for the possibility that I may never regain access to those accounts. If that ends up being the case, then this experience will become something else entirely: a lesson in resilience, adaptation, and the importance of building beyond any single platform.