Woman Falls off the Face of the Earth
It was only supposed to be for a weekend. And truthfully, I didn’t think I would be able to make it the whole way through (which I’ll admit is kind of sad). But in an effort to preserve one of my final shreds of sanity, I told myself I’d stay off Instagram for a weekend late last summer. And it just kind of…stuck.
In a time where mystery is rare and culturally frowned upon, it was a fun little experiment at first. “Let’s see who notices I’m gone…” I thought to myself. Sure, this all sounds incredibly self-indulgent. I certainly don’t expect people to pay attention to my every move. I would be horrified if they did. But is it strange to want to be missed? It’s a vulnerable thing to admit. But as a writer and content creator, you rarely get feedback equivalent to the work you put in. That’s just part of it. And as an enneagram 2, I’m prone to feel like I’m overextending myself. I often wondered would happen if I just quit trying. Trying to communicate. Trying to write. Trying to tether myself to all of these different things. This digital identity and community that left me feeling more like a raw nerve than a fulfilled person 97% of the time.
So that’s what I did.
I dyed my hair pink. I worked two jobs. I went on vacation. I experienced a very stressful return home when one of my front windows was completely shattered (still not sure what happened there). I ate dozens of meals with my neighbors. I helped friends with their projects. I dyed my hair back blonde. I went to brunch. I went to the theater. I lost my grandmother. I turned 36. I got sick twice. I shared none of it.
Good moments. Gut-wrenching moments. Mostly in-between moments.
The impulse was there. But I held my tongue, metaphorically.
Some people noticed my departure immediately. Others noticed after a few weeks. The messages were mostly along the lines of “Hey, you didn’t respond to my message. What’s up?” Or “Haven’t seen you post in a while…are you ok?” Are you ok? How does anyone even answer that question anymore? It was well-intentioned enough, but oof. Is anyone “ok” right now? I’d usually respond that I’m alright and explain to them that I’m taking a social media hiatus. 9 times out of 10 it was met with, “I wish I could do that…” (you totally can, btw!) or “Good for you!” Occasionally people would try to sway me back to the platform. I told them I would come back when I was good and ready, but a lot of the time, my anxiety flared up as soon as I opened the app. I just couldn’t do it yet. And before I sound too self-righteous, I would like to mention that I haven’t completely abandoned the internet. I found new (and old) places to waste my time. I rediscovered Twitter, which is mostly fun but also highly anxiety-inducing at times. I joined some holiday decorating groups on Facebook and check for updates frequently. I read People.com daily (my guilty pleasure). I also dove head-first into YouTube, which oddly enough, I’ve never really done until this point. I mostly watch DIY videos and clips from late night talk shows that I’d never be able to stay awake for in the first place. Yes, I am basically 80.
Life outside of a square was a definite improvement. I think I’ve mentioned this before, but a pretty big flaw of mine *that I am working on* is that I have a difficult time staying in my own lane. Basically, I have the tendency to dwell on what everyone else is doing instead of focusing on myself. It makes me pretty uncomfortable to even type that out, but it’s unfortunately the truth. Taking myself out of the equation was incredibly helpful in that respect. I actually didn’t have to consume my friends’ and strangers’ lives and stack myself up against them on an almost hourly basis. Who knew?
Stepping back was refreshing in a lot of ways I didn’t anticipate.
My brain felt better when it was less overloaded with random crap from the internet. Maybe this isn’t something everyone deals with, but I have a very good memory and it also happens to be photographic. Do you know how much junk I have going on up here? I can remember some of the things that were written on my Facebook wall when people still did that sort of thing, so you can imagine how much I’ve accumulated since. It was like a balm to my mind to not read and look at every single thing I came across and file it away in some mental compartment for future reference. My brain suddenly had way less tabs open, and it was incredible.
Another unexpected perk? I became far less judgmental. Now, I wouldn’t consider myself this type of person. And I read once that you can’t control your initial thought, but you can control your secondary thought. I believe that to be true. But judging others is something we pretty much all do innately. And with less opportunities to judge people, the less I found myself doing it. I enjoyed not forming an opinion on my friends based on what they were wearing, who they were out with, where they were at, if I thought they were taking covid seriously, what their political beliefs are, etc etc etc. For the few people I kept in touch with, I saw them for who they were instead of filtering them through the lens I’d made up about them in my mind based on their online interactions and posts and shares.
One of the most important things I got back was real connection. I knew it was something I missed, I just don’t think I realized how much. I got to hear first-hand from my friends and coworkers when they bought a house or got a new pet or became pregnant. I listened to them tell me about their vacations instead of quickly swiping through a handful of photos online. I heard them when they were sick or heartbroken or lost. I got to experience their lives based on what they told and showed me versus how I perceived their lives to be on the internet. Maybe I wasn’t the first to know about each of their life’s events, but I felt like I knew about them on a deeper level. And to me, it was all so much more meaningful.
That being said, I always prided myself on having a lot of friends, but this experience shifted my mindset about that, too. Instead of latching onto every person I met and getting them to like me, I committed to investing my time in a smaller collective of people who would actually notice if I fell off the face of the earth.
So on my birthday, when people I’d considered myself close to didn’t acknowledge it, I made a conscious decision to take a step back from those relationships. This isn’t as dramatic or self-serving as it sounds. I’ve lost very important friendships over the past few years that I still don’t understand and still feel hurt by. It’s brought an unexpected clarity. It isn’t a strange sentiment to want friends that acknowledge your birthday. Or your existence. I’m not cutting anyone off, I’m just being cognizant of where my energy is going. I think that’s what this whole process has been about: harnessing my energy in a more focused, intentional way; however, it hasn’t been all self-actualization and expanded free time for home renovation projects.
While it was intriguing and even fun living my life primarily offline, the pendulum swung a little too far in the other direction. I became a little too good at isolating myself from the rest of the world. Saddened by my grandmother’s anticipated but devastating passing, I grew mostly numb. I barely spoke to anyone on a consistent basis except for my husband, my boss, my neighbors, and a handful of people from home. And when I became sick for the second time in a little over a month and was stuck on the couch with no voice, I was at my wits end all over again. I don’t know if it was the frigid temps or the Nyquil coma or watching teen dramas on HBO Max that made me nostalgic for a time that I’d never get back, but I missed my friends. Badly. The problem was — and still is — a lot of my digital relationships didn’t translate to real life. And these aren’t just instagram friends. These are real life friends.
…at least I thought?
And I won’t include the internal doubt and shame spiral that comes along with losing friends and then plagues existing and future relationships. Just know it’s there. Although maybe not to the same extent it once was because these things are hardly ever one-sided.
But all that to say, I’m at a loss.
I want to have dinner with friends and not be distracted by our phones, but that feels like it’s asking too much. I want to have a conversation where we tune into one another and share our hearts, but how can that be possible when texting is the preferred method of communication. Hell, I’d send an email or two if I thought someone would respond to it, but I send plenty of text messages that go unanswered. I know we’re all distracted and exhausted after nearly two years of covid, but this is nothing new. In a world where the main focus is “look at me and all the fun things I’m doing and how great my life is,” is direct contact too much? Like with most things in life, striking a balance is hard. I know it’s considered a rebellious thing to refrain from hanging out and sharing my life on Instagram, but should it be? Is it weird or selfish to ask for people to interact in other ways?
I’m still trying to figure that out.
Another problem — as a writer and content creator, staying off social media feels contrary to my main goal: visibility. Yes, I create because I enjoy it, but of course I want people to see and engage with what I write or make. And how do I do that without feeding posts through Instagram? I tried. It’s next to impossible.
I wish I had a way to tie up the end of this post with a neat little bow, but I don’t. I finally deleted the app a few weeks ago. I’m committed to staying off the platform (save for letting you guys know when there’s a new post on here) until I find a better way to manage my relationship with it, but it’s been almost 5 months, and I’m no closer to the answer than when I started. I just know I like my life better when I’m not focusing on everyone else’s lives on a screen. And I’m trying to pay attention to that instead of going into autopilot and clicking and liking and looking and lurking (you do it, too!). I’m trying to listen to myself. And what I’m hearing is, “Girl! Get out of there!” My brain is overloaded. I don’t think I need it. But I miss my friends and don’t know how to maintain some of my relationships without social media. I know I’m not playing by the rules, but can’t the rules change?
