Exactly one year ago, I decided toleave Instagram.
Well, its not a lie.
One year ago, I decided to leavebut I never said I wouldnt come back.
Hadi Nurseha / EyeEm / Getty Images
I was also six months into a new job and living on my own in New York City.
Gradually, I started sharing less, and less, and less.
And it seemed like what I posted would go on to define me in permanent ways.
Every time I went to post, Id pause and think: Am I sharing this because its me?
I logged out of my account, though I stayed signed into the one I manage for work.
All the cliches about not having Instagram proved to be true.
I stopped whipping out my phone at Instagram-worthy moments and just enjoyed them.
I people-watched while waiting for the subway and read more once I got on.
There were a million fewer things I had to think about daily.
I liked my myself in a way I hadnt really before.
Can you imagine that?
It felt like: Hello, me, this is me!
Nice to meet you!
Nice to meet you too!
You seem great and cool.
And, according to some psychologists and research, my results are pretty typical.
I stayed almost entirely off my personal Instagram for three months.
I know that this is not a major feat, but it was exactly what I needed.
One day, I was sitting at my desk and felt curious enough to sign back in.
I didnt feel overwhelmed.
In fact, I didnt feel much of anything.
A photo, filter, or caption would not define who I was because I already knew me.
Slowly, I returned to Instagram for real, signing in, checking daily, and interacting with others.
I decided to post a week later.
It was not a particularly pretty photo.
It did not look great in my grid.
I didnt check to see if anyone liked it.
I will still occasionally scroll mindlessly while waiting for the subway, but Ill never scroll before bed.
Yes, I will break those boundaries occasionally, but the point is that I think about it first.
Im making direct, conscious choices about what is and isnt up for likes.
Every year, around fall, I consider getting bangsa mistake I have only followed through with once.
My feelings toward Instagram are merely an extension of the projections and insecurities Ive been dealing with everywhere else.
I posted my first Insta story post-hiatus one night when I was home in my apartment.
So I held up my phone, my hand like a claw, and took one.
I posted it without much thought; it felt like me.
