Why I Pulled Back From Social Media—but Never Really Left
Why I Pulled Back From Social Media—but Never Really Left
I don’t think there was one specific day when I decided I was done with social media.
It happened slowly.
For years, I enjoyed it. I could check in on friends, congratulate somebody on a win, laugh at a silly joke or see what other people were creating. It was a simple way to stay connected, especially with people who had moved away from the Valley.
Then slowly my feed started changing.
Instead of seeing the people I had chosen to follow, I was constantly being shown political arguments, angry opinions and strangers fighting over everything imaginable. It didn’t matter whether it came from the left or the right. Everybody seemed convinced that the other side was destroying the country, and the platforms appeared happy to keep placing them in front of each other.
That is only my opinion. I don’t know what happens behind the scenes or what the people running these companies have in mind (I just work here kind of thing).
I just know how it started making me feel.
I would open an app hoping to see what my Facebook friends were doing and leave irritated about an argument I was never part of. Sometimes I wouldn’t even remember why I had picked up my phone in the first place.
Life is already complicated enough. I have a business to run, children to raise, bills to pay, relationships to maintain and a life that keeps moving whether I am ready or not. I finally realized that I didn’t need to voluntarily add another obstacle to my day.
So I started pulling back.
I still use social media (Facebook, LinkedIn, and Instagram), but not the way I once did. It is no longer the first thing I need to see when I wake up. I don’t automatically reach for it every time I am bored or standing in a checkout line. I don’t feel obligated to know what strangers are angry about that particular day.
I will probably never leave social media completely, though.
Part of that is because I genuinely enjoy staying connected with friends who left the 956 and the meme of the day. These are people I may not see regularly, but I still want to know how they are doing. I want to see their children grow up, celebrate their accomplishments and occasionally remind them that somebody back home is still cheering for them.
Social media has also become a record of my own journey through life.
It has documented some of the biggest moments I have experienced.
Becoming a dad.
Opening my first photography studio.
Closing that studio and rebuilding the business as a completely mobile photographer.
Walking into places I never imagined I would be trusted to photograph.
Open-heart surgery.
Weddings.
Pediatric brain surgery.
Assignments involving the federal government.
There are photographs, posts and memories from different seasons of my life that I probably would have forgotten had I not shared them. In that sense, social media has become a strange kind of public diary. Not every page is important, and some of it probably makes me cringe now, but together it shows where I have been and how much my life has changed.
It also reminds me that a career is rarely a straight line.
There have been good years and difficult ones. There have been moments when I felt certain about where I was going and others when I had no idea what would happen next. There were things I once viewed as failures that eventually pushed me into work I never thought I would be doing.
I have never been motivated much by prizes or awards. I don’t collect them, and I have never wanted my career to become a shelf full of trophies. I am grateful for every opportunity I have received, but I give God the glory for opening doors I could not have opened on my own.
My goal has always been simpler than that.
Do good work.
Treat people well.
Keep learning.
Be thankful when somebody trusts me with an important moment.
And whenever possible, focus on something positive.
That does not mean pretending everything is perfect. It means refusing to spend all day feeding anger, fear and division when there is already enough of that in the world.
I would rather use these platforms to share a good photograph, celebrate someone’s success, tell part of my story or let people know that I am still here.
I am still here if somebody needs advice.
I am still here if an old friend wants to grab a cup of coffee.
And I am definitely still here if you need a new headshot because you are not happy with whatever artificial intelligence cooked up for you.
Social media is not completely good or completely bad. It is a tool, and like most tools, it depends on how we use it.
I simply decided that it no longer gets unlimited access to my time, attention or peace.
I didn’t leave social media.
I just put it back in its proper place.
From Kindergarten to Graduation: Why Photos Matter
From Kindergarten to Graduation: Why Photos Matter
Some photographs hit you harder than others.
This week, I looked at a photo of my son as a little boy in his blue kindergarten cap. Then I looked at him standing there in his graduation gown, getting ready to walk across the stage.
And honestly, I don’t know how we got here so fast.
When people talk about photography, they usually talk about lighting, cameras, posing, locations, and all the technical things. And yes, all of that matters. But the older I get, the more I realize the real value of a photograph is not always obvious in the moment.
Sometimes a photo is just a quick picture.
Until years later, when it becomes proof.
Proof that they were that small.
Proof that you were there.
Proof that life was moving, even when you were too busy to notice how fast it was going.
As a photographer, I’ve spent years documenting families, seniors, events, businesses, and important moments for other people. I’ve always believed photos matter. But as a dad, moments like this remind me why they matter so much.
Photos are part of your family’s legacy.
They hold the little details we think we’ll never forget. The way your child looked in a tiny cap and gown. The way they smiled when they saw you in the crowd. The way they hugged you when the ceremony was over. The way your heart felt full and broken at the same time because you were proud, but also wondering where all the years went.
I’m so proud of my son. Not just for graduating, but for the young man he is becoming.
He has come such a long way. Through all the growing, changing, learning, and figuring things out, he has kept such a good heart. He is kind, thoughtful, funny, and has the kind of soul that makes people better just by being around him.
As his dad, watching him grow has been one of the greatest blessings of my life.
And as a photographer, I’m thankful we have the photos.
The kindergarten photo. The senior portraits. The graduation moments. The quick snapshots in between. They all matter. Maybe not equally in the moment, but together they tell a story that can never be replaced.
That’s why I always tell people not to wait.
Don’t wait until life is less busy. Don’t wait until everyone looks perfect. Don’t wait until the house is clean, the schedule slows down, or the timing feels right.
Take the photo.
Book the session.
Print the picture.
Save the memory.
Because one day that little boy in the blue cap becomes the young man walking across the stage. And when that day comes, you’ll be grateful you have something to hold onto.
I love you, son. I’m proud of you. Always.
And I’ll always be cheering you on.
The Teacher Who Made Journalism Feel Possible
The Teacher Who Made Journalism Feel Possible
A Bright Spot at Morris Jr. High
I’ve been thinking lately about how certain people influence your life in small ways.
Not always in some big dramatic movie scene. Sometimes it’s just a teacher saying something in class. Sometimes it’s the way they carry themselves. Sometimes it’s the way they talk about a world you didn’t even know existed yet.
For me, one of those people was Ms. Lewis, my English teacher at Morris Jr. High in McAllen.
Back then, I was just trying to get through school. I wasn’t always confident. There were seasons where I enjoyed school, and then there were times when I honestly dreaded going to class.
Jr. High can be a strange age. You’re old enough to start wondering who you might become, but young enough that you don’t really know what any of it means yet.
Ms. Lewis was one of the bright spots.
She was kind. She was positive. She made class feel like a place I actually wanted to be. And she would sometimes talk about her degree in journalism.
At that age, I didn’t fully understand how someone even got a degree in journalism. I just knew it sounded different. I had never heard of something like that I thought that was such a cool degree! Telling stories and getting to meet people from all walks of life.
It gave me something to hope for.
Years later, I would go on to earn my communications degree from UTPA in 1999, with journalism becoming a major part of the way I saw the world.
I don’t think I fully realized until much later how much that mattered.
Sometimes a teacher opens a door without even knowing they opened it. They say something in passing, and a student carries it for years.
The Debate Lesson I Never Forgot
One memory from her class has stayed with me.
I volunteered for a debate RIGHT before the lunch break. I don’t remember all the details, but I remember that I didn’t really know which side I was supposed to stand on.
I was flip-flopping. I just jumped in and tried to wing it.
And I got CRUSHED (it wasn't pretty).
I was embarrassed. At that age, embarrassment feels bigger than it really is. It feels like everyone saw you fail and no one will ever forget it.
But Ms. Lewis didn’t make me feel stupid. She pulled me aside later and told me it was okay. It wasn’t the end of the world.
Then she gave me advice I still think about.
She told me that when you enter an arena like that, you need to have something firm to stand on. If you don’t, you’re going to lose every time.
That was about debate, but it was also about life.
It was about knowing what you believe. It was about preparation. It was about walking into a room with some kind of foundation under your feet.
At the time, I probably didn’t understand the weight of that lesson. I was just a kid who had been embarrassed in class.
But looking back, that little moment followed me into my work as a photographer, storyteller, and business owner.
How That Lesson Connects to Photography
Photography is not just about pointing a camera at someone.
At least not the kind of work I care about.
It’s about knowing what you’re trying to say. It’s about having a point of view. It’s about walking into a room, a business, a hospital, a city department, or a portrait session and understanding that there is a story there.
You have to stand on something.
I didn’t know it then, but that was part of how I would learn to see people — not just as subjects in front of a camera, but as stories worth paying attention to.
Ms. Lewis also taught me something else, maybe without trying to.
She showed me that your degree, your job title, and your daily work do not have to fit inside one narrow box.
She had a journalism background, but she was teaching English. And she was doing it in a way that mattered.
She showed me that you can take what you know, what you love, and what you’ve lived, and let it show up wherever you are.
That is something I understand more now.
My own path has not been a straight line. Journalism, photography, video, websites, storytelling, small businesses, city projects, portraits, events — all of it connects in ways I couldn’t have explained when I was younger.
But the thread has always been story.
Why Good Teachers Still Matter
The older I get, the more I think about teachers.
I think about how easy it is for society to sideline them. We talk about budgets, contracts, test scores, and politics. Teachers become part of some bigger argument, and we forget that they are standing in front of real kids every day.
Kids who are struggling.
Kids who are listening.
Kids who may not say much in the moment, but who will remember something 25 or 30 years later.
My sisters are both educators. My mother is a retired social worker and a former elementary teacher in La Joya. So I’ve seen it from different angles.
Good teachers leave marks that don’t always show up on paper.
They shape confidence.
They plant ideas.
They make certain futures feel possible.
Finding Her Again Years Later
Recently, I came across Ms. Lewis again in a completely different season of life.
Not as the teacher I remembered from Jr. High, but as someone being recognized in the community for her work and service.
That hit me in a way I didn’t expect.
Because sometimes people disappear from your life for decades, and then they pop back up and remind you that they were part of your story all along.
Looking back now, after years of photographing people, businesses, and community stories across the Rio Grande Valley, I can see how much those early teachers shaped the way I see people.
I don’t know if Ms. Lewis ever knew the impact she had on me.
Most teachers probably don’t.
But I hope they know that the work matters. I hope they know that the kindness matters. I hope they know that the words they say in a classroom can follow a student for the rest of his life.
For me, Ms. Lewis made journalism feel possible.
She made class feel good during a time when school didn’t always feel that way.
And she taught me that if you’re going to step into the arena, you better know what you’re standing on.
I’m still learning that lesson.
But I’m grateful she was one of the people who taught it to me.
AI Changed Everything. Clients Still Want It to Look Real.
AI Changed Everything. Clients Still Want It to Look Real.
Abel Riojas, Rio Grande Valley Commercial & Headshot Photographer
AI has changed the creative world faster than anyone expected.
It’s everywhere now—writing copy, generating images, building concepts, filling decks.
As a commercial photographer and headshot photographer in the Rio Grande Valley, I see AI references constantly in briefs and visual direction.
But there’s one thing I hear from clients over and over, regardless of industry:
“I don’t want it to look fake.”
Sometimes they say it another way:
“I don’t mind a little adjustment—I just want it to look like me.”
That distinction matters.
The Issue Isn’t AI. It’s Believability.
AI is very good at producing images that look impressive at first glance. - Sharp. Clean. Polished.
But polished isn’t the same as believable.
Many AI-generated visuals feel generic, over-smoothed, or disconnected from reality. Even when people can’t articulate what’s wrong, they feel it immediately.
For businesses, that matters.
Credibility matters.
No brand wants its marketing to feel artificial—especially in professional headshots, branding photography, or advertising where trust is part of the message.
Clients Aren’t Anti-Editing. They’re Anti-Losing Themselves.
Most clients aren’t asking for “no retouching.”
They’re asking for restraint. We've all seen the photo of someone you know and you can tell right away that "it's not them"
In my commercial and headshot work across McAllen, Mission, and the greater Rio Grande Valley, clients want images that feel:
- Polished, but human
- Confident, not overproduced
- Real, not synthetic
They want to recognize themselves in the image.
That balance doesn’t come from a preset or an AI prompt.
It comes from experience and judgment.
When Anyone Can Generate an Image, Taste Is the Difference.
AI has raised the baseline.
Technically competent images are easy to generate now.
What’s not easy is knowing:
- What matters in the frame
- What to leave alone
- When an image stops feeling true
That’s where professional photography still wins.
The value isn’t the camera or the software.
It’s the decision-making.
Real Photography Carries Intent.
A real photograph carries intent:
- Intentional lighting, not just brightness
- A real moment, not a composite
- A subject responding to a person, not an algorithm
That intent shows up—even if viewers can’t explain why.
It’s why many brands are quietly pulling back from AI-heavy visuals and returning to real photography for headshots, branding, and advertising.
"Sameness" doesn’t build trust.
Consistency and authenticity do.
The Bottom Line
AI isn’t going away. It will keep improving and to me that's a good thing as long as it's not dominating the narrative / photo message.
But clients still want images that feel real, credible, and personal.
Trying to compete with computers on speed or cost is a losing game.
Competing on judgment, taste, and understanding people isn’t.
Clients don’t want fake.
They want real—with intention.
That hasn’t changed.
My Website Got Hacked… So I Guess We’re Starting Over (Photographer Edition)
My Website Got Hacked… So I Guess We’re Starting Over (Photographer Edition)
You’d think that as a commercial photographer — someone who spends their days capturing polished branding images, corporate events, and headshots that make people look confident and capable — I’d have my digital life perfectly under control.
Yeah… about that. #fakenews
My website got hacked.
abelriojas.com was basically ambushed, trashed, and left looking like the digital equivalent of a hotel room after a 80's rock band checks out. Someone thought it would be cute to leave tons of links to over seas casinos and internet scams and the more I tried cleaning it out the worse it became. (Think of playing "Whack-a-mole")
One day everything was fine, the next day my galleries, posts, and carefully curated portfolio were replaced with… fake news articles, spam, and even fake photos from stock image libraries. Who knows how long it had been going on but it happened and what's done is done.
So here we are: rebuilding from scratch.
(Which is ironic, because I spend half my career telling brands, “Consistency is everything.”)
What Went Down (Insert Dramatic Detective Music)
Without getting too technical: someone broke in, messed with my files, and turned my site into a puzzle with half the pieces missing. The old version of the site still floats around the Wayback Machine, which is kind of cool… like finding an old roll of film, except the photos are of your website before it got mugged.
The Bright Side: A Forced Makeover
After the shock and several “why me?” moments, I realized something worth admitting:
This might actually be a blessing disguised as a catastrophic inconvenience.
My old site worked, sure — but starting fresh gives me a chance to rebuild with intention. To create something that reflects what I do now:
- Clean commercial photography
- Branding images that help businesses show their best selves
- Corporate event coverage without the “deer in headlights” moments
- Professional headshots — the real bread and butter
Plus: stronger security, faster loading, and a layout that works better for the way people search in 2026.
The Plan Moving Forward
This reboot means:
- A more polished portfolio
- Updated galleries featuring recent work
- Easier navigation for clients
- A blog that actually gets regular updates (please hold your applause)
- Better SEO so people looking for a South Texas commercial photographer can actually find me
- And definitely no more hackers — fingers crossed
Think of this as abelriojas.com: The Rebuild.
A cleaner, sharper, tougher version — kind of like a headshot after retouching, but for a website.
Thanks for Sticking Around
If you’re reading this, thanks for hanging with me through this little adventure. I’ll be posting updates, new work, behind-the-scenes content, and helpful info for clients as the site grows back into something I’m proud to show the world.
And yes — this time I’m backing everything up like a paranoid squirrel.
More coming soon.
Let’s pretend this was all part of the plan.