1/15/26
On January 10th, 2025, after much consideration, I decided to delete all of my Meta accounts. The decision was made after infinite attempts at “social media detoxes” over the years — breaks and breakdowns, it was a vicious cycle.
I would leave Instagram for a week or two, and re-enter the sphere feeling refreshed, hoping desperately that when I came back I would do things differently! I wouldn’t get sucked into doom-scrolling and constant comparison, no way, not this time. This time I would be respectfully engaged, socially aware, but NOT obsessed! A regular, healthy dose of Instagram for 10-15 minutes a day wasn’t so bad… Or 30… Or maybe an hour… OR TWO, who’s to say!
The truth is, I’m a neurodivergent person with dissociative symptoms and poor impulse control. Inevitably, I would get sucked back into the doom-scroll, no matter how many breaks I took, or how many books I read about how social media was bad for me and my brain, I always came back, frothing at the mouth for more.
I desperately wanted out, knowing how much it negatively effected my mental health and my relationship with the world around me, but I feared deep down that if I disappeared form these online spaces that I would disappear all together. The FOMO was also real. For a long time I believed Instagram was a bridge impossible to burn, the risk was simply too high. I was terrified that if I got rid of my profile that I would become a hermit, unaware of modern society’s events, unable to connect with friends, job opportunities, potential romantic prospects, the list goes on and on.
On the other hand, Meta had slowly taken away everything that once made Insta charming and fun. I watched over a decade as Instagram gradually transformed from a loveable photos-only platform, where people would share art on top of their coffee and clouds in the sky, to a hybrid snapchat-tiktok-influencer filled nightmare. Zuckerberg’s monster. It was no longer enjoyable to use, I never saw my friend’s posts, and they never saw mine. This was the whole POINT of social media, I thought, to connect with my friends more regularly, instead I had never felt further away from them. The shift from photo to video, from individual expression to content creation, made me feel like I was screaming into the void.
I also spent far too much time scrolling through Insta stories and reels, searching for dopamine like a rat looking cheese. The labyrinth expanded before my eyes, corridors of filled with ads for weight loss supplements, engagement announcements, and father’s day posts… I sniffed and sniffed… Where was the cheese, where was the cheese, Where Was The Cheese??????
I attempted to make different accounts for specific reasons to shift the way I saw the app, I thought maybe if I decided to commit to only posting art, poetry, or music, that would help me feel more in control, maybe if I followed other artists instead of people from high school I would feel inspired! But in the end I had too many personas to keep track of, too many identities to promote, none of them really my own. It only made me feel worse, less connected, and much more confused.
The straw that broke the camel’s back was a change in Meta’s community guidelines that highlighted the a users ability to criticize and challenge the LGBTQ+ community, using the word “Transgenderism” to describe the lives of trans people, claiming that associating “weirdness” with queer folks was acceptable, not hate, just simply a part of the discussion.
I am weird queer folk in the eyes of Meta, and not in a fun endearing way. I realized that the platform was not for me, it wasn’t for my friends, I no longer felt safe posting there knowing that Meta associates the lives of trans people with an ideology, an ism, rather than a genuine expression of gender identity.
I took another one of my social media breaks after this realization and I never had the desire to come back. In my time away I researched how to download all of my old Insta photos, and the data from my shitty Facebook posts from high school, so I could keep every little memory that I could. I recovered my accounts from deactivation and downloaded everything I need, and said so-long, this time, for good.
I wasn’t exactly sure what would happen after my account deletion, but it felt like a fucking relief. I no longer had to share my memories with 300+ people that I connected with on the surface level at best. No more performing, no more Instagram reels, no more promotion of my art, no more shouting into the void and getting nothing but an echo back.
With the relief came an anxiety as well. I had been posting on Meta platforms online for a decade. So much of my energy was going into appearing busy and creative, rather than just being busy and creating. If I went to a gallery, the first thing I had to do was take photos of the art I was seeing, and post a selection of carefully curated photos to my profile. At some point in time, this was fun! It had to be, why else would I be doing it? And listen, I don’t fault people for taking photos at events and posting them online, but in my personal experience I was devoting a lot of time taking photos and videos for the express intent of posting them online.
It wasn’t because I wanted to remember the moment, it was about memorializing my coolness. Providing proof to my followers that I was a the kind of person that did things, with people, outside! The ol’ phrase “pic or it didn’t happen” comes to mind, maybe it was because I was raised on the millennial internet, but I felt all this pressure to make my reality, my perspective, make MYSELF known. It was a fruitless endeavour. I barely knew myself, how could I make other people know me?
Who was I when no one was watching?
I don’t know if you’ve heard this, but identity is complicated, like really super-duper complicated. When I think about identity and social media I think about the panopticon. We learn from such a young age how to be our own prison warden, to perform our identities in acceptable, crowd pleasing ways, whether someone is watching us or not. Social media teaches us that to be accepted we must be entertaining, thrilling even. Especially as a person raised as a girl, my beauty online was tied to my ability to please, to entertain, to be liked was to be loved, validated, accepted.
Being away from Instagram hasn’t taken away my internalized warden, I still crave validation and support, sometimes I wish I could receive a like a on a selfie every once and a while, just to have numerical proof that someone out there thinks I’m pretty. It’s not a craving that disappears completely, but I’m aware of the craving, I’m aware of the desire, and I know for a fact that if I posted my face online it would not make me feel any more beautiful than I already do…. No matter how many likes it would receive. Self love cannot be lured out in this way.
I do believe that being off of Instagram has helped me feel more comfortable exploring my expression, because I know I will never have to post a photo online to confirm my hotness ever again. I am far less concerned about potential reactions from other people about my looks than I used to be. Right around the time I deleted my Instagram was also curiously also when I started taking exploring my gender expression much more seriously. I don’t think this is a coincidence.
Removing Instagram from the equation has, potentially, made my internalized warden a little quieter.
One of the things I did after I deleted my Instagram was sign up to every newsletter I could for music venues, so I can keep up with current shows. This isn’t exactly foolproof, sometimes I forget to check my email in a way that I would NEVER forget to check my Instagram, but it’s honestly nice to have the option to CHOOSE when to engage with these sorts of things, rather than stumbling upon them. My friends still have Instagram as well, so if they stumble across something they thing I might like, they’ll send it my way, which allows for a nice degree of separation and quality control.
The best news I have is that I haven’t become a hermit in my time away from Insta! Yay! I still see friends, and I talk to them regularly, but now I text or call them instead of dm-ing them. This switch was a challenge for me at first, because in the past apps like Facebook or Instagram used to serve up potential for social interaction on a platter, especially with Stories. Every time I socialize with someone now it feels like a very conscious decision. Who I interact with is no longer simply just an option on a feed with a hundred other people, ads, and influencers.
I’m not sure about whether I talk to my friends more or less since my account deletion, but I do care more about the quality of my interactions with the people I care about much more since I deleted my Meta accounts. I don’t want to exchange memes back and forth into infinity, I want to know how you are doing, I want to talk on the phone while we both make dinner, or have you over to watch a movie, go out for drinks, be together in a real capacity.
It might just be me getting older, but a high quantity of shallow interactions is no longer satisfactory to me. I’m still adjusting to this mindset, because I believed for so long the sheer AMOUNT of people that "showed up” mattered. Now I believe it’s who shows up, and how they do it. And I’m trying to apply this to myself as well, because I know social media has at times made me a worse, more distant friend. That isn’t something that changes in a year. I think it’ll take time for me to return to the ways I showed up for people before Instagram took over.
I have started cold-calling people, which horrifies them far much more than me. This is funny to me, I used to be terrified of phone calls, but I’ve come to the conclusion that making plans over text is far more frustrating than a single phone call will ever be. It’s funny how we make things far more difficult for ourselves for the sake of what we view as “ease.” Texting is easy, right? So how come it never FEELS easy? I personally tire of reading between the lines, just tell me how you really feel.
A lot of things have changed for me over the past year… Or rather, I have changed a lot, I’ve created the change in my life I’ve wanted to see, which is something I didn’t really know I was capable of. I am proud of myself for prioritizing my time, my space, finding new ways to connect, and grieving the old ways. There was a long period of time in my life where I couldn’t function without scrolling, it was an unhealthy coping mechanism that got me through many years of dissociative symptoms.
I still find comfort in the social medias I do use: Youtube, Substack, Pinterest, Soundcloud, there are places I exist online… Anonymously. It is so freeing in particular to not have a face attached to this account. None of my friends IRL follow me on here, most of them don’t even know this account exists. I don’t exist on here for anyone besides myself, if I perform it’s for my own damn entertainment. It’s not perfect on here, but it’s been a nice change of pace for me, and I’m so glad that I’ve gotten to return to writing… A hobby I had all but abandoned before I made an account on here.
In terms of the next year ahead, I hope I can continue on this journey of connecting with those I care about more deeply and thoroughly. My year without Instagram wasn’t without its challenges, but I haven’t regretted it one single time. I feel free! If you fear FOMO like I once did, in my experience, I missed out on far much more of life when I was looking down at my phone than I have in the past year. And if you’re considering deleting your Meta accounts, here’s your sign to download all of your old photos so when you’re finally ready to do so… It’ll be a piece of cake.
TLDR: Fuck Meta <3
Best,
Angel
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