You know about Lent? It’s when Christians mourn Jesus before he dies and give something up for 40 days to imitate Jesus’ walk in the desert with the devil. I’m not religious, but old habits die hard and every Spring I start scrounging around for some change to commit to for the next month and a half. This year, I gave up Instagram.
Did I get all the normal benefits of cutting a FOMO and body dysmorphia-inducing social media from my life? Sure, whatever, we’ve heard about those benefits over and over again. I’m not interested in reporting on that; it’s been done more scientifically and more effectively by those before me. What I’m interested in are the changes I noticed in my specific mental ecosystem.
After deleting Instagram, my desire to be sedentary and only lightly engage my mind did not go away. That was not a product of Instagram. That’s just innate within all humans. I filled the new void by daydreaming. When I sat down on my couch after work each evening, my brain took over. And I have to say, the depth and quality of my daydreams skyrocketed. We’re talking full fledged, hero’s journey plots. We’re talking character development. We’re talking wardrobe design. It’s all there, in my brain. And I had a blast. Lord knows there wasn’t much going on outside in the real world, so it was nice to retreat into the exciting world of ~imagination~.
A void I happily left empty was that of teenage-centric content. Teenagers have it rough. All teenagers, throughout time, have had it rough. One of the prime aspects of adolescence, and one of the things that makes it so awful, is the ability to make anything embarrassing. Not to be embarrassing, but to be embarrassed. Teenagers commiserate over these things on Instagram, and because teenaged life is commodified, it shows up on my feed. The things these youths are worrying about online were starting to get to me. Does it matter what side I part my hair on? Should I give up skinny jeans? They were concerns I had never even heard of before, which made me wonder if they were obvious to everyone else. Was I keeping up with the times? Was I out of touch? Yes, I was out of touch. I, a grown woman, was trying to keep up with high-school trends, when I had no intention of ever stepping foot on a high school campus again in my life. Stepping away from Instagram was the firm-yet-condescending pat on the back I needed to get my priorities straight.
My priorities now? That’s where all the trite and overdone takeaways come in: I focused on my hobbies and the activities that made me happy. I sewed 5 garments across a month and a half. I walked miles and miles and watched the spring blossoms develop. I mastered the complicated chocolate and apricot roulade cake of family lore. Would I have done these things if I had also been on Instagram? Maybe. But maybe not as fully, or as presently.
Upon my return to Instagram, I went on an unfollowing spree.The stuff that had interested me 40 days ago isn’t all that relevant. My Discover page is frankly a little boring. For what little scrolling I’ve done, my only thought has been “but I don’t care about this.” Sure, eventually, I’ll slide back into a scrolling spiral, but now I know an effective way to kick myself out of it.
-Claire
*This is officially non-religious because I gave it up for Lent minus one day (God is not the boss of me).
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