Iāve lived in three different states, and while the benefits far outweigh the downsides of having experienced life in various places, thereās one that has followed me since my download of it on theĀ busĀ home one day in 6th grade: Instagram. Sure, itās been great to see the glow ups and whoās-dating-who of the people I went to middle school with, but thereās been aĀ glaring negative that IādĀ never noticed before.Ā
Girls from Missouri grew up to be living in beautiful sorority homes with a tan I didnāt know was possible, and wardrobes with accessories I couldnāt imagine everĀ thinking up. Girls from New Jersey grew up to goĀ clubbing all along the East Coast, and visiting each other at their colleges with effortless style. And, most of all, Iām consistently surrounded by Boulder babes who are out every night of the week and achieving every fraternity formal theme with ease.
How do I even know all of this? Instagram.Ā
You hear often about young women being hurt by social media, inundated with unrealistic body images and exhaustivelyĀ curatingĀ theirĀ feeds. I even have several friends who confront their negative relationship with Instagram, and work to negate the harmful effects, but up until recentlyĀ I didnāt think that was me. I didnāt acknowledge how Iād feel when Iād somehow end up stalking six different sorority girls’ feeds, or why the girl from my floor freshman year appeared to beĀ having a better college experience than me. I brushed it all off without realizing how it was infiltrating my life;Ā feeling disappointed with every outfit I wore, upset if I didnāt go out with friends every weekend, or frustrated that I couldnāt get a photo filter right (cause who cares?).
I know the toxicity of my phone. Trust me, I dread the screen time report every week. IĀ set app limits,Ā thenĀ IĀ ignore them, and after several hours, a few sororitiesĀ and lots of accounts later,Ā I. have. to. close. Instagram.
Despite some global resentment of this quarantine, my mindset shifted. I realized, who were these girls I idolized when they didnāt have their parties, formals, and cute outfits to post? They were normal. As a person whoās life highlights reside solely on Linkedin, I knew I was doing both fun and impressive things all year, I just wasnāt posting about them.
This brought me to re-evaluate things Iām involved in. Am I doing them because of their Insta-worthiness?Ā Just to feel that Iām impressing people? To win the admiration of a thousand people who I wouldnāt even consider friends? What actually brings value to my life, and what is just for show? Iām not posting about interviews Iām doing, the new language Iām learning, running almost every day, writing for several national platforms, or reading some great books. I find more value knowing that Iām doing those things for myself, rather than doing it to tell the world of social media.Ā
In order to make time for all those things I enjoy doing for my well-being, not my Instagram followers, I put a heavy restriction on the app and vowed to stick to it. Iām not advocating to delete Instagram altogether, and in fact, I think thereās a healthy amount of social media consumption while staying connected and socially āin-the-know.ā But when that hourglass comes up, I hesitate before I click āIgnore Limit for Today.ā I know I can spend that time reading another chapter in my book or sitting outside writing, and I know well what brings me more value.Ā
The temptation of getting ten accounts deep to the point where you don’t even know the person you’re lurking on anymore is high, I know. If you can control your social media stalking urges, I admire you (and please teach me your ways). While many users can maintain a healthy relationship with their feeds, I’m proud to admit that I can’t.Ā Ā