When They Leave Quietly
Someone I admire just quietly unsubscribed from this newsletter.
I don’t know why, of course. Could be inbox fatigue. Could be life chaos.
Could be that my recent posts—more direct in tone, more anti-authoritarian, more explicitly in favor of democracy—weren’t to their taste.
Whatever the reason, their departure rattled me more than I expected—which is why the caption on the photo above says “a few days ago.” Here’s the original post. Note that it’s two people having a conversation, whereas now it feels like no conversation, just walls.
Deepening the Well
In recent months, I’ve found myself wrestling with something I suspect many of you are, too: how do we live and speak truthfully in a time that feels increasingly unstable—politically, socially, even spiritually?
I don’t usually take unsubscribes personally. The numbers go up, the numbers go down. Not everyone is meant to stay. Everyone is well within their rights to make those decisions. (Dear Reader, I hope you stay for the conversation, but I understand if you choose not to.)
But when someone you look up to walks away without a word, it lands a little harder.
You find yourself rereading what you wrote. Second-guessing. Wondering if you could’ve said it with more tact. Or whether you should’ve said it at all.
But here’s where I land, for now:
If someone leaves because I spoke up for what matters—because I took a clear stand on values I hold dear—then I probably said something worth saying.
Even if it cost me a connection.
Even if it stung.
Not everything we write will be received the way we hope. But that’s not failure. That’s just the cost of having a voice.
We don’t have to agree on everything to have a fruitful conversation. In fact, when you effectively present your opposing viewpoint to me, you expand my understanding, even if I continue to disagree with you. (I do disconnect from people who simply spew vitriol, and suggest you do the same. Mental health and all that.)
I’d rather be misunderstood for saying something meaningful than be universally liked for saying nothing.
Still, it stings. And that’s OK, too. Quiet departures can still leave loud echoes.
Serving the Whole Audience
Still, I only want to serve my readers/listeners, and different audiences come together here at King’s Chronicles.
I really like to foster community, which is something that goes deeper than mere agreement. If you enjoy some of the content here but not all of it, you can tweak your subscription on this Substack (and most others, for that matter).
Substack doesn’t make it really clear how to do that, though, so let me share an open secret with you, and then I’ll make it easy for you here on this Substack.
For any Substack, you can take the base URL (for instance, this Substack lives at kingschronicles.substack.com) and append the word “account” to the end of it, e.g., kingschronicles.substack.com/account.
That will get you to the page where you can manage several things, depending on how the particular Substack is set up. That includes deciding which of sections you want to follow.
Knowledgeable publishers will make that easy by providing a button for managing your subscription, which I have started doing in recent months. Like so:
…but all I’ve done is put that link I told you about in that button.
So if you don’t want to read what I have to say about how communication principles come into play in the current situation in our nation, just uncheck that box. The posts will still show up as links on our front page, but you won’t get emails about them. If you don’t care about the podcast, same thing.
In other words, you don’t have to unsubscribe. You can just unsubscribed from one section.
And I hope that helps you make not only this Substack but all the others more useful to you. And it will make me a little less sad. 🙂
Share us with someone you know would enjoy our voice.
Make sure you don’t miss our content and community.
And, well, if you want, manage your subscription.
True and helpful.