The Day I Scraped Myself Off the Internet
Look, I used to be everywhere. Seriously, everywhere. LinkedIn, Twitter, Facebook, five different forums dedicated to my niche, commenting on every blog post I read. I thought being visible was the only way you got ahead in this digital game. I measured success by how many connections I had. Then, everything went sideways. It wasn’t a sophisticated hack, nothing fancy like that. It was just a guy. A really angry guy who didn’t like a review I wrote about his product line, which was a dumb little side hustle I had going back then.
The Wake-Up Call: Too Much Data Leakage
This situation taught me the terrifying reality of digital breadcrumbs. This guy, he found everything. I’m talking about my old address from a decade-old forum signature I completely forgot about. He found where my kid went to school because I posted a picture of their artwork proudly displayed on the fridge—it had the school logo in the corner. He found my business cell number, which I thought was private, listed on a forgotten directory site. He didn’t just harass me online; he started calling my family late at night. That’s when I slammed the brakes and realized I had accidentally built a public dossier on myself just by being careless and chatty. The first thing I did was panic. The second thing? I got absolutely methodical about shutting down the noise.
Phase 1: The Massive Digital Scrub Initiative
I committed a solid week to nothing but digital forensics on my own life. I treated myself like an intelligence target. I used incognito browsers and searched every combination of my name, my old screen names, and my old email addresses. It was terrifying how much popped up. Much of it was stuff I couldn’t easily delete, but I could scramble it.
- I mapped every single account: I literally drew a messy diagram on paper showing where my real name was attached and what email it used. I uncovered four old social profiles I hadn’t touched since the early days of social media. These were massive data risks.
- I started deleting the dead weight: I didn’t just click ‘deactivate.’ I went through the painstaking processes required to fully delete those old accounts. If deletion wasn’t an option, I changed the profile information to utter nonsense—a random name, a made-up birthday, and deleted every photo.
- I killed the metadata monster: This was a huge one. I went back through hundreds of photos on my active platforms and stripped out any location data. I used a simple desktop photo editor to re-save them all, which automatically purged the hidden GPS stamps and camera info. I deleted the originals right after.
- I secured my main email: I stopped using my primary personal email for anything public facing. I moved to a completely new, dedicated, obfuscated email address strictly for this blogging and sharing work. My personal life now runs on an email that is never, ever used for public sign-ups.
Phase 2: Establishing the Profilo Basso Protocol
The core of the Profilo Basso (Low Profile) mindset isn’t about being invisible; it’s about being untrackable and unverifiable. I still wanted to share my practice logs and work, but I needed a high wall between my real life and my online persona. I moved everything under a strict pseudonym—the one I use now. No one gets to know my real name unless they already know me in person, and even then, they don’t get the connection to this blog.
My entire sharing approach changed. When I started posting again, I put these strict rules in place and I follow them religiously:
- Never Post in Real-Time: If I travel, or go somewhere interesting, or even just post about my daily routine, I wait a minimum of 48 hours to post about it. This kills the ability for someone to immediately know my current location or habits.
- The Generic Backdrop Rule: If I post a picture of my environment (like my workstation or my view), I make sure I swap out three key, unique elements before taking the photo. I move the unique coffee mug, close the distinctive window blinds, or move the specific book on my desk. It makes the environment generic enough that it can’t be tied back to me specifically through image searches.
- Only Share the Process, Not the Personal: I focus strictly on the technical details of the implementation. I share the code, the failures, the success, and the methodology. I do not share opinions about politics, my financial status, or my relationships. Those personal opinions are the things that incite the worst kind of stalkers, so they stay locked down.
- Aggressive Connection Vetting: I used to accept followers and connection requests from anyone who seemed interested. Now? If I don’t know you, or you don’t have a clear, verifiable history related to the niche, you don’t get past the gate. It keeps the community small but high quality.
The Result: Practicing Intentional Sharing
It sounds exhausting, I know, but once you set up the structure and follow the rules, it just becomes simple muscle memory. My overall online presence shrank, but my ability to share meaningful content actually improved because I wasn’t worried about every little detail giving me away. The whole point of Profilo Basso is intentionality.
That old harassment stopped dead in its tracks the moment his leads dried up. He couldn’t verify the information he had, and since he couldn’t find anything new, he moved on. It proved that adopting a low profile isn’t about being scared or hiding from success; it’s about being smart and proactive about your digital perimeter. I feel safer now than I ever did when I was trying to be the loudest voice in the room.