Bye Social Media, Question Mark?

For now? For today? For forever? For fuck's sake...

Last weekend, when TikTok went dark (for half a day?), I decided to delete Instagram, threads, and Facebook from my phone. I have never really used TikTok, and Facebook is a once-a-week thing at most, but Instagram has been a daily staple for the last ten years, so this is the longest time I’ve ever gone without it. I know—five whole days!

Now, I never made any money on any social media app. Never. So I understand the challenge of going cold turkey when it’s not part of your job isn’t any sort of big feat. I also realize that when I have another book to promote (hopefully sometime somewhere, please babyjesus) I will need to do the same social media promotion bullshit I’ve had to do the last two times because it’s just part of the gig. So please know none of this is a judgment of anyone other than myself.

I promise I won’t be one of those people who give up social media for five minutes and then tell you to do the same because it’s life-changing, and that’s saying a lot because I’m totally one of those people; I talked about it recently when discussing how I used to share sobriety content online:

I’ve always been one of those people. I didn’t have a super strong sense of self, so people, places, and things always became my entire personality. I wasn’t just passionate; I was BATSHIT passionate. It’s why I became such a successful queen supreme bossbabe in my MLM days.

As far back as I can remember, I absorbed the world around me to make myself more interesting or enjoyable. My boyfriends’ interests would become mine. The things my friends were into became the hobbies I pursued. I couldn’t do something half-assed, either; I had to go all in. Three kids? Ha! How about five? Back when I had a vegan phase, I was that vegan who wouldn’t shut the fuck up about being vegan. So, of course, I was the same way about quitting drinking.

All that to say, I will share how my social media break is impacting me at the moment:

I never want to go back into that goddamn hellhole.

Like, Ever.

I honestly haven’t spent a whole lot of time on Instagram in the past couple of years. I have a personal Instagram that I check maybe once a week, mostly to spy on my kids enjoy my kids’ photos. I also have a “business account,” and that’s where most of my screen time went, and even then, it wasn’t excessive.

Then election season happened, then the holidays, and it crept up a bit, but the amount of time wasn’t the problem; rather, the space it took in my brain. I would find myself thinking about responses, attitudes, actions, minor annoyances, and have to remind myself, ‘you don’t even fucking know that person!’ more times than not. Why was I spending so much time irritated at Hannah Neeleman and her stupid homemade mozzarella, for example?

I’ve known for a while that constant scrolling and app checking makes me more anxious—the knee-jerk reaction to click on the app with any downtime or boredom. I also know that isn’t great for my brain, and I’m trying to be good to my brain.

It’s wild how quickly I adjusted to not using Instagram. The first morning was a little odd, and then, I didn’t miss it, like it never existed in the first place. Instead of scrolling, I’m more focused on writing. I’m reading without ‘checking the socials’ first. I’m leaving my phone in my purse or my office so I can hear if someone calls, but there’s no temptation to pass the time by mindlessly scrolling.

I’ve felt an enormous weight lifted off this week, even amidst the vomit-inducing antics of TFG taking office. One could argue that Substack is social media, but so far, it isn’t the same for me. I log in once, maybe twice a day. I never find myself doomscrolling or arguing with randos. Bliss. And it’s the best of both worlds because I can read opinion pieces and keep up on current events. That said, Instagram used to feel that way for me, too, so time will tell.

Today, I started to feel guilty because it’s my son’s birthday tomorrow, and I won’t be able to post a happy birthday photo like usual. Then I thought, who gives a fuck? He doesn’t! Why should I? Anyone who cares KNOWS it’s his birthday and doesn’t need my social media declaration. Who am I posting it for? To get accolades for having a handsome son? Or have someone tell me, ‘Wow, you don’t look old enough to have a 20-year-old’?¹ How did it become about me? Did I do that? Did society?

Fucking A.

Maybe I’ll never log back into Instagram. Maybe I’ll make a deal with myself and log in once a week or once a month, or maybe I’ll say fuck it and go back to the way I used it before. I don’t know. Right now, I’m done with it.

So. Bleh. That’s it. That’s where I’m at. Our country is a dumpster fire, and this is one bit of control I’m taking back. It’s all I’ve got.

If you follow me on Instagram and wonder where the fuck I’ve been, that’s where the fuck I’ve been.

And I’m here. Thanks for being here with me.

xoxo Emily

1. I mean, feel free to tell me that, it’s fine.