I’ve been on an Instagram break for a few months, and in a few days I’ll be logging back in.
In recent months, I’ve seen so many people talking here about how they’ve left Instagram for good, to commit totally to Substack and/or other spaces. Of course doing that same thing is something I’ve considered as well, deeply. I love the possibilities and people of Substack. I read Digital Minimalism in 2019, and am a verrrry analog person at heart. I take regular breaks from IG to be more present in my life and assess my use of it. I know it easily wastes our precious time, exploits the dopamine-seeking aspect of our brains, brings anxiety and overwhelm even with the most mindful use, makes us buy things we don’t need, and on and on.
These things are true, generally.
But there’s also me, and my life. Instagram works for me in lots of ways, and I’ve found ways to use it in integrity with my values. I’m sure I’ll still take regular breaks, but I plan to stay.
So I’ve been gearing up to get back on, always with more structure and strengthened boundaries, feeling excited. I’ve missed my community there and regularly sharing what’s feels true and alive for me.
This morning, I picked up my phone and read a post from a writer I subscribe to here on Substack. I adore her work. One line stuck out to me though, when she was sharing that she left social media last year. She said to her readers—to me—“You don’t need it, you won’t miss it—log off.”
It struck something, a major chord of insecurity. Am I wrong? Am I kidding myself? Here is this thoughtful writer, with whom I share so much in common, telling me she’s certain I don’t need Instagram and won’t miss it if I leave. I’ve fantasized about leaving. Maybe I’m being dumb. Weak. Delusional.
As she detailed her situation, I felt even more uncertainty: she brought about the same number of subscribers here from her former blog as I did, and she left Instagram with about the same number of followers as I currently have there. Sort of uncanny.
(And of course she’s seen wonderful growth here on Substack since then.)
As I’ve learned to do, I sat with the discomfort. I was open to what was there for me in this situation. I went to take a shower. As the good, deep thoughts often do, it hit me in the moments where I had nothing to do but look at white tile and feel the water on my body. It’s a test. It’s the universe/God/whatever saying: “Can you REALLY trust yourself to know what’s right for you?”
Would I still get back on Instagram? Even with this clone-of-me telling me about her success and happiness off of it?
“Can you really trust yourself to know what’s right for you?”
I know it’s just Instagram, but stick with me. This is something I’ve struggled with in the past and made great progress in: listening to the still, small voice, believing my own sense of things, and from there, making decisions that feel right for me despite what anyone else might be saying or doing. I’ve learned I can trust myself—read here about my homebirth VBAC if you want—and that when I do, my confidence soars, and I feel so incredibly whole and at peace.
Leaving Instagram feels somewhat like an easy choice. A nice, clean-cut solution to my sense of overwhelm and desire to be present to my children. Believe me when I say I’ve been tempted to cut the cord many times. But I truly feel called to stay.
In case anyone else is in a social media-discerning time, here are some reasons I’m not ditching Instagram for Substack:
I’m in a time of life where, unlike even other mother-writers such as the amazing
, I just cannot pull together long pieces of thoughtful writing. I’ve accepted it; it just is what it is. My life is such (mother of three young children) and my brain is such (ADHD-ish) that writing in little bits and pieces as I’m able is what works for me right now. I love being able to pop onto stories to put a thought or a poll or something out there in the 45 seconds I have before the two-year-old needs tending to again. The point is that I feel called to create in this season, and it’s either create in a way that works in the day-to-day or don’t create much at all. (Related: I plan to podcast more here on Substack in the new year.)I love Instagram Stories and the subsequent DMs. I’m often alone and doing mundane, repetitive work (I’m mostly an at-home parent), and Stories and the DMs I get in reply fulfill my desire to be both creative and social. It’s also very fun: having meaningful one-on-one conversations is basically my favorite thing, and DMs make it easy to do. I’ve learned as well that I really thrive as a writer when I have the back-and-forth of conversation and feedback.
I don’t want to isolate myself from the wider world. Instagram is where people are. Like a told a friend the other day, I don’t want to just hobnob with Catholic intellectuals. (Feels like that’s so much of my feed here so far.) There are so many incredible, thoughtful people here, and I love that, but I want to talk with moms who aren’t just like me and people who don’t have exactly the same views I do. Like, I’ve always been turned off at Christians who isolate themselves from culture. In the world, not of it—that first part means you participate, engage, be present among normal, imperfect life. I get that this is a bit of a stretch, and I’m not accusing anyone, lol. This is just what it feels like for me. For me, leaving Instagram would feel a bit like dipping out of the culture. It’s messy and gross there, yep, but that doesn’t necessarily mean good people should all peace out.
As for that second part—not of it. I don’t believe we need to be on social media the way the moguls want us to be, or even the way most people are. I’m intentional with the way I do Instagram and am always improving. Here are some examples: I consume very little; I mostly create and talk with my community. I don’t really do reels, mostly static posts—I want my audience to be okay with slower, less flashy content. (Does it makes anyone else’s brain hurt trying to read the captions of reels?) I don’t do big back-and-forths in comments sections (including my own—I invite people to DM), but I also don’t block people who disagree with me, a common practice. (I do instantly block any weird vibes/spammy/annoying accounts). On Instagram, not of it.
To those writers and creatives who have left social media (or never been on)—I love that for you. I applaud you for making a bold move that feels good for your life.
But that’s not what feels right for me. I’ve created a space I love on Instagram, and I’m looking forward to getting back on to share and create and reconnect with thoughtful people. (If you’re there too, come say hello! I’m @radical.homemaker!)
If you’ve been on the fence, I’m not going to tell you what’s right for you. I can’t do that. I can encourage you to drop in and listen to your own sense of things, regardless of what other people are doing or saying. We’re all unique, truly. With unique lives. No one is called to exactly what another is. I can also tell you that learning to trust yourself is one of the best feelings in the world.
Maybe my intuition/God will tell me one of these years that it’s time to go. We’ll see! Meanwhile, I’m staying, and I feel good about it.
Like anything I think it has to be a cost, benefit analysis. I know I've said this before, but I don't think Substack is inherently better than anything else. I get stuck in all the same scroll-y time wasting ways, but it doesn't spike my anxiety the same way. I think it depends on personality type, and aims. I couldn't handle the way IG affected ME. I do encourage people to get off, but I also understand that a lot won't, so I can see both sides. I do miss seeing updates from people! My middle ground is that I've kept my FB account but have only family friends or relatives on it. I can keep up with a few things but it's pretty boring :)
All this to say, I'm on your team! I've thought all the same thoughts the other direction.
At some point this year, I removed all but my personal account from IG. As 2024 approaches, I know I’ll add one specifically related to my Substack. I’m a little apprehensive, as this has not gone well for me in the past. But, the way you approach it gives me hope for how I’ll move forward. Thanks for sharing!