On January 1st I deleted Instagram off of my phone. Yes - in part as a New Year’s resolution for less screen time this year, but also because I wanted to curb my spending habits that targeted ads have propelled into impulsion.
What I didn’t expect as much was to realize just how addicted I was in my behaviors to check my phone or think of a caption for a photo opportunity in my mind. Have I really been living life this way for the past decade? Was it ever any fun?
What did I use it for?
While I liked to believe that I used Instagram to check in on friends and connect with others, I rarely ever did that. Instead, I turned to the app for “inspiration” and entertainment (memes).
Style. Home decor. Parenting. Cooking. Since I was a little girl, I’ve never felt like I had my own personality in any of these categories. I’ve always turned to outside places for inspiration on how to dress, act, write, be. It started with magazines and my older sister. Then, when I had the internet at my fingertips when I was around middle school, I looked at sites like livejournal and tumblr to curate my looks and ideas.
Now of course, inspiration must come from somewhere. I think it’s wonderful to see another piece of art and feel fueled to make something of your own. The thing is - I wasn’t using the internet as inspiration, I was trying to copy and paste in hopes of going viral or living a life I perceived these people had.
In the end, everything on Instagram was starting to look the same. There was no more inspiration, just endless scrolling and hearting and the bottomless pit of ‘not good enough’. This notion is, obviously, not new. I am not breaking ground on realizing that Instagram is no longer for me. But the love/hate relationship I had developed with social media has finally come to a boiling point.
Retraining my eye and mind
In the two weeks I’ve been off Instagram, I have checked it on the web browser twice. It almost felt delicious until I quickly noticed - it really IS all the same content! I got bored after a few minutes and X’ed out of the tab to get some work done. I actually felt better about filling in my gradebook than checking on Instagram. Which is saying a lot.
I took a walk in the snow today and caught myself wanting to snap photos of the scenery to share. I took pictures of snow caps on the tombstones, the untouched, glittery lawn of snow with one small trail of deer tracks, the long icicles hanging from the rooftops. They will remain stored in my phone for my eyes only. And that feels invigorating. No constant checking to see if anyone commented or liked my vision. No filtering to make it look artistic yet authentic enough. No witty caption needed to make myself seem funny or not cheesy. I am finally freeing myself from the constraints of other people’s validation. Have I cracked the code to a happier life?
The walk inspired me to write. Imagine that - seeing real-life inspiring art. My mind doesn’t need to develop ideas off of someone else’s, instead, presence begets my own mind to work its magic and manifest into something tangible.
If you’re considering a break-up with social media, I highly suggest it, if not, a moment of separation. Find yourself and find your world. It doesn’t need to be deep but it can be profound. Hovering over that ‘delete account’ button is becoming more likely every second, because, NO, I don’t want to buy those viral overalls.
What I’m doing instead
Starting to go down Erika Krouse’s list of Literary Mags. I am in a reading fervor and have a new goal of submitting work to a magazine this year.
Playing Nintendo sports with my kids on these extra cold days. I ace them in tennis every time and I show no mercy.
Starting the new True Detective. Primo HBO entertainment.
Dabbling in the Artist’s Way. I’ve started so many times but have never completed the 12 weeks. I think I am ready now, for real!
Until next time,
T