If you’re reading this, it is likely you noticed my abrupt departure from social media, most notably Instagram. It seems silly to have to explain myself, but it has been such an emotional process for me that writing this is therapeutic. I have spent so many years documenting my life for others; it was extremely hard to let it all go. Here are some reasons, in no particular order. Perhaps you’ll make the leap as well. (And you best believe I am celebrating this huge, personal milestone!)
Meta is bad news
You know it. We’ve all known it for years. We’ve provided so much data to these fools just for them to get richer. I pushed it aside for a long, long time, but what really sent me over the edge was the recent elimination of fact-checking and DEI programs. Disgusting. Absolute trash. Goodbye, Zuck.
It’s not what it was
I’ve been on social media since the beginning. Like…when only a handful of university email addresses could get you a Facebook account. (That’s not a brag, that’s to set the timeline.) It used to be fun! You could poke your friends! You could make weird groups! At some point, though, it became a giant advertising machine, and we just let it happen. It makes me physically ill to know there are teenagers making more money than me because they record themselves dancing. (I used to do that in my best friend’s backyard with a camcorder and halloween costumes. For no one.)
It’s not real
While I did my best to equally share the good and the bad, I can’t be certain others did the same. When I was stuck in a cockroach infested apartment in the desert of Nevada with both a newborn and a toddler (during a pandemic!), making a whopping $40,000 at a nonprofit, all I saw were my more successful friends buying homes, getting promotions, and taking lavish European vacations. I somehow convinced myself no one else was struggling. I slipped into a deep depression, unknowingly fueled by my incessant scrolling. “Comparison is the thief of joy;” I should have left then, but I didn’t.
It was all-consuming
I hadn’t noticed how much of my life revolved around social media until I really took a step back. It was the first thing I looked at in the morning, and the last thing I checked before bed. If I posted something, I couldn’t wait to open the app and see how many “likes” or story views I got. Whenever I was doing something (anything, really), I found myself seeking out great moments I could later post about rather than enjoying the time with my family, friends, or myself. My husband asked, “Is this what you want to be doing as a middle-aged mom? Looking at silly videos and sharing memes? Is this what you want your kids to remember about you?” The answer to all of those is a hard “no.”
It’s a one-way street (mostly)
My accounts were pretty locked down; my personal account where I shared family photos had less than 350 followers, and I made sure I knew all those people personally. Any given day, about 1/3 of those 350 would regularly view my stories or like my occasional posts. However, I can count on one hand the number of those viewers who posted something for me to view in return. It started to feel a little creepy to me. And if I took a break from posting stuff, I would actually receive messages saying my stories were missed. Well, I do not owe anyone “stories.” (This was hard for me to accept.) If you want to know about my life, ask me. I am actually a great storyteller.
I need to focus on my family
Y’all, the world is falling apart, and I decided to bring kids into it. It’s my duty to give them as much love and attention as I possibly can for as long as I can. I cannot do that if I need to check Instagram.
I am still the same person, still doing all my favorite things in all my favorite places. (Still taking care of entirely too many houseplants.)
Let’s not forget about each other.