Free of Instagram in Perpetuity.
Issue 004: All the things Toni learned after a year of leaving Instagram
Everyone has different reasons for using Instagram. Users can show their lives to their liking, find content about their interests, promote businesses, and network with others. What started as an innocent social venture for me brought many lessons and shaped me into the person I am now. I started using Instagram at the age of 12. Others may disagree, but that was way too early for me. Having unmonitored access to social media at a vulnerable time when my mind was trying to adopt values necessary for my well-being and growth did some damage. In retrospect, I was very impressionable (as 12-year-olds tend to be), and some ideologies affected me considerably throughout my adolescence. The ramifications are only now becoming undone, but oddly enough, I have made peace with the experience, so why not share the tale?
It started as harmless fun. I would follow celebrities that I liked at the time, my siblings, and my school friends. I posted pictures of myself, miscellaneous items that I thought were cool, and surely some cringy memes, but overall, I was enjoying myself. Throughout my middle school years, I noticed that what I would call my best efforts regarding fashion and personal aesthetics were seen as less polished and trendy by social standards. The issue, unfortunately, started within my community, and my exposure to societal beauty standards by the internet added insult to injury. I didn't realize how that started impacting my feelings and emotions about myself until it was too late. From time to time, I think about how kids become obsessed with being attractive on an unreachable scale and how they can consistently combat this newfound challenge. This isn't exclusive to social media usage, but being online amplifies the concept's importance. Kids shouldn't have to worry about being desirable, and existing as they are should be the only necessity. They should be having fun, making memories, and making the most of things that are special to them. Once the insecurities started to form and I felt uncomfortable being myself, I knew I would be set up for some rough years ahead.
High school was a rude awakening. What I felt a bit worried about in middle school became a more extensive source of anxiety. There were new trends, and this was the beginning of the "IG Baddie" formula. For those unfamiliar with the term, this was a specific look, down to makeup, hair, style, and even the appearance of the Instagram feed. It was mostly centered around always being on trend and features that are conventionally attractive by societal standards. It is an interesting social phenomenon since these standards continue to change and make the goal post further for active participants in this complex game. There was no room to be awkward and find yourself at your own pace without ridicule, although that is normal for teenagers. The journey of finding oneself became increasingly tricky because if you didn't adhere to what was favored at the time, that made you an outsider. I already began thinking of ways to fit myself into this box, and as expected, it wouldn't work because I am merely myself. This brought on the thief of joy, the unrewarding experience of comparing yourself to others. My thoughts were consistently along the lines of, "Maybe I do look nice, but I don't look like that." I grew tiresome when none of my corrective measures pleased me, and I began internalizing that I was valueless in this society.
I made it through those years with little confidence and remained persistent in keeping up my online presence, although I always felt I needed to improve. After high school, there was a shift. During my first year of college, we were hit by the pandemic, and I began working on myself extensively during this time, during lockdown, and long after. Once I realized I was an adult legally, I wanted to try out specific aesthetics that I knew would be noticed. I wiped my entire Instagram feed and would do this periodically whenever I felt my posts were no longer acceptable, and it was time for a rebrand. I had a phase of dressing provocatively, which isn't bad, but looking back, I was doing it for the wrong reasons. I never saw myself in that kind of light, and the reactions astonished me as I never had this kind of response.
I was a new person to my usual crowd, and being different this way seemed right. I was finally likable, sought-after, and in my peak "IG Baddie" form. Whenever I was done cosplaying as this girl online, and when it was time to remove the makeup and clothes at the end of the day, I felt a lingering emptiness inside of me. I felt invisible when I was bare, and there were no enhancements. It felt like I was living a double life; I was eating up all the attention, and as much as it was satisfying, I was also exhausted by keeping up this façade. When I started online dating, this was another reason my Instagram had to be flawless. Recognition and affirmation are what I thrived off of, and regardless of whether it was a romantic prospect or a friend, the idea of them showing my feed to someone else in adoration made me feel justified in these actions. I became accustomed to the routine, and all the fondness I received made everything worth it, even if I felt like I was dying inside.
Instagram started to be my main reason for doing things. I needed to look cute on this day to take pictures for Instagram. I needed to attend events to show everyone on Instagram that I am lively and fun. I needed to show my hobbies on Instagram so everyone could think I was exciting. If any of the things I captured weren't aesthetically pleasing enough for me, I would get frustrated; God forbid they weren't usable at all, and I couldn't post anything about my day. I would berate myself till it became an endless loop in my head. All the things I loved to do no longer felt like I was doing them for me, and they were content for my audience. If my post didn't perform as well as I wanted, it would feel like the end of the world and a direct hit to my abilities. For the most part, my hobbies were keeping me alive at the moment and were my primary source of joy, so once I started to no longer want to indulge in them, I knew that I was in dangerous territory. After my dating stint ended and I experienced the heartbreak of a few fallen friendships, the energy that went into curating the perfect version of me was no longer there. Something needed to change; not a new makeover, new hobbies, or a new rebrand, but I needed to assess what I have been putting myself through and come to terms with the fact that I have been actively self-sabotaging.
I have had this app since I was 12 without any interruption. At 21, I ultimately decided to prioritize myself and another chance at finding myself, or else I would continue to feel lost throughout my 20s. After nearly a decade on the app, I overcame my fear of leaving it and debunked the idea that my online presence was my only strong suit and that I had to keep it up and put myself through hell to feel good about myself. It wasn't all bad, and Instagram also served as a time capsule for some of my sweetest memories with my friends and family. In my case, the harmful parts overpowered the positive ones and tainted my experience. I immediately knew it was the right decision once I felt more relieved than sad when I deactivated the account. There was no longer an immense pressure on my back. I could let myself exist without needing to incessantly look or act a certain way. I was free at last.
Instagram was such a big part of my life. Showing our lives without fault became a part of its culture years after its launch, and this changed my approach to it. The algorithm was designed to show me less of what I liked and more of what I should try to be. My best had to be enough; if it wasn't, this was not something I should attach importance to. At the end of the day, everyone can use their Instagram however they would like, but the conditioning from such an early age put things in perspective for me. I accepted that it wasn't healthy, and even in moderation, I would still embody the uncompromising ideals I had adopted from its usage. It’s best for people who go into it already secure within themselves and with boundaries set. Everything is not what it seems on there, and plenty of people are putting on a false front like myself previously. Knowing this, I could make the experience what I want it to be, but there's no point anymore. I'm not missing out on much, and my peers often relay the same message.
At 22, I still have ways to go with my self-love and confidence, but I have come a long way, and my low self-esteem is no longer dragging me down or making me do things I don't want to partake in. The momentary boost in confidence from likes and comments could only do so much when I needed to fill the void inside of myself. I find great contentment in others not knowing what I am up to all the time. I have rediscovered my love for my hobbies, which are solely for me, just as they were when I initially picked them up. My style reflects me better now that my main goal isn't external validation. I am multifaceted, and what matters most is the intention behind my actions; if I want to be laid back, sexy, a fusion of both, or neither, it is all up to me. My current journey of finding myself isn't influenced by outside opinions, societal standards, or the excessive harshness I would internalize. Without Instagram, who knows what my adolescence would have looked like. Despite all the trials and tribulations, I still found my way back to myself. In my 20s, I'm so excited to fully step into who I am. I'm truly happy being Antonia, and that's the best possible solatium I could ever gift myself.
When was the last time you posted without the pressure of being something other than yourself? When was the last time that you felt free enough to fully be you?