the social media love, hate, and everything in between

My plunge into the social media maze, why I’m not ready to return to Instagram, and why I don’t believe there’s a “one true god”

Eva K

Feb 01, 2025

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Since this piece turned out to be much longer than originally planned, I recorded a voice-over for those who prefer listening to reading! Please excuse any imperfections and glitches in the recording—it's my first time!

Something I’ve noticed in my month-and-a-half of being on Substack is the increasing number of posts titled: “Why I Left Instagram”, “What I Learned Since Leaving Social Media” and “Should We All Quit Instagram”.

Despite my initial eye-roll reaction to the clickbait titles (yes, I’m well aware of the irony), some of them turned out to be genuinely insightful, clearly pointing to the fact that more and more people seem to be experiencing the same thing—discontent with how it makes them feel; overwhelm with the sheer volume of, well, everything; guilt for being addicted to it; disinterest in what’s being shared; anger due to an increasing number of censoring policies and a big fat question mark around “What am I even doing here anymore?”.

As of October 2024, there are 5.52 billion internet users worldwide, which amounts to 67.5 percent of the global population. Of this total, 5.22 billion, or 63.8 percent of the world's population, are social media users.1

At some point in our lives, we all willingly, but perhaps not knowingly, entered into a relationship with one or more social media platforms. For most, if you’re my age, it started with Facebook. (I briefly flirted with Twitter and Snapchat but never really stuck around long enough to form a connection.) And when I re-discovered and fell deeply in love with Instagram, somewhere in 2019, I broke it off with Facebook once and for all.

the story of the toxic linger

For those of us who entertained these relationships, it’s possible that the experience went something like this:

You hear from your friends how cool it is to be in a relationship; you’re cautious but intrigued, and everyone else is doing it so naturally, you need to do it, too. So you join the club, casually, only scouting, you’re not convinced at all. Slowly, the courtship begins: it’s fun, easy, useful, playful--can I get a “like”? Before long, you can’t believe it took you so long to get onboard. You’re in constant communication, getting so much out of it and frequently visiting in the state of exuberant euphoria. Yes, you’re in the honeymoon phase and life finally makes sense.

Since it’s a scientifically proven fact that the honeymoon phase lasts anywhere from 3 months to 2 years, somewhere in that period, your rose-tinted glasses begin to slip. Maybe you grow bored and disinterested. Maybe you were in it just for the novelty. Maybe the relationship brings out things in you that you don’t like. Or maybe you don’t actually know how to be in this relationship. Whatever it is, you start seeing things that weren’t there before. Or were they?

The need to spend so much time together, followed by an overwhelming number of messages—counting how many times each of you said, “I like you.” The 24/7 display of things you’re both interested in—and not interested in. The compelling need to share more of yourself, to catch up with the rest of the bunch—followed by ridiculous rules determining exactly which parts of yourself you get to show. And then, the mindless, endless, time-wasting scrolling: “What awaits at the end of that feed? I need another hit of dopamine.”

Finally you hear from some of your friends that it’s not so easy to break it off. You’re scared, and feel it, too, but “Shit, I’m not that cold-hearted bitch/bastard... I’ll miss you!” And so, the confused, love-hate rollercoaster begins, eventually heading down one of three possible routes any relationship can take: reconciliation, breakup, or—worst of all—a toxic linger.

For me, it was a long, toxic linger until I finally ended it with Instagram 9 months ago by deleting the app. (Or are we just on a break? I haven’t officially deleted the profile.)

I both loved it and hated it—couldn’t leave but despised the nasty algorithms and fascist politics—while checking for notifications every… I’m embarrassed to say how often. I genuinely loved seeing what my friends were up to, but I also secretly envied many of them, all while wondering, “If they didn’t like what I shared, does that mean they don’t like me?”

I couldn’t stop my brain from unconsciously flipping between: “Do I have or want this [insert a beautiful thing] that Jenny has?” and (equally bad but followed by a sense of relief, pride, and only sometimes smugness), “I already have that, so this doesn’t apply to me.”

Even as an educated adult, immersed in the yogic philosophy that we’re all equally wonderful and worthy, I was sucked into the comparison game big time. And while I know that doesn’t apply to everyone (my friend Steve thinks it affects women more than men, and I partially agree, though I’d also say men tend to bury it deeper2), it’s something I often hear about when talking with my friends.

Just recently, a friend shared that she had logged out of Instagram for a week. She noticed that, given her current situation—being in that in-between space, the sticky, uncomfortable stuckness, like a mouse stuck in a trap lined with cheese—she wasn’t able to feel fully happy for her friends who seemed to be doing so much (or at least posting about it). She was creating, too, but far more silently and patiently, haunted by the feeling she wasn’t doing enough.

Modern capitalistic society teaches us to tie our self-worth to productivity. Yet creativity—the very precursor to true productivity—often lies in the limbo: in idleness, waiting, procrastinating, listening, and observing. But of course, how does one show that off on Instagram?

“I don’t have to have a purpose, I just wanna play.”
Alice Phoebe Lou, Angel

Has our purpose and worth become so enmeshed with how we’re being perceived on social media that we’ve forgotten it’s still us who hold the power?

Or has the ship long sailed, due to the well-designed, exploitative, and addictive nature of the platforms, leaving us with nothing to do but be gentle and realize it’s not our fault?

Instagram can feel like constantly having conversations with hundreds of friends—many of whom aren’t really our friends—who are almost exclusively and continuously telling us what’s happening in their lives: where they are, how they’re doing, how far they’ve come, what they’ve learned, what they look like, think, feel, do, notice, and eat. Whether we’re interested in any of that or not, we get a full daily blast paired with someone trying to sell us on something. It can be exhausting, even if we’re the one’s doing the selling—trying to navigate the platform for our own sincere creative offerings.

Is it possible for social media to work in our favor, serving as a playground rather than an arena for our basic biological imperatives—the need to connect, share, and create?

How many of us find ourselves in the 'toxic relationship' bucket, vs. still loving our relationships with social media vs. having ended them once and for all?

And are there any alternatives?

the social media migration phenomenon

For those of us living in free Western countries, rapid socio-economic growth—accelerated by the digital revolution of the 20th century—has given us access to more choices and opportunities than at any other time in history (though I want to acknowledge that these benefits are not equally distributed).

The incredible growth of the social web over the past decade has resulted in the explosion of social media platforms, which have not only revolutionized the way we connect and communicate but also expanded our access to information, markets, and communities worldwide.

Here are the top players of 2024 ranked by number of monthly active users:

So, while on one hand, we have an inordinate number of choices, on the other hand, we still have limited time, capacity, and resources. On average, an individual engages with approximately six different social media platforms each month!3 Once we reach that point and are faced with information overload, our decisions usually play out in one of two ways: we cut down on the number of platforms we use, use tricks like turning off notifications or limit the time we spend there; or we migrate to a different platform in search of something that better suits our needs.

The fundamental impulse behind migration is always the same: the desire to find something better.

Based on a theory that looks at what drives people away (push factors), what attracts them elsewhere (pull factors), and what helps or hinders their decision to actually move (mooring factors), the factors driving migration between social media platforms mirror those driving geographical migrations.4

In the social and cultural ecosystem, we move driven by the desire to find better social or economic opportunities. In the social media sphere, it’s frustration, policies, privacy concerns, toxic culture, and fatigue (push); curiosity, better features, a desire for authenticity, community, inclusivity (pull); or FOMO—because that’s where everybody is these days.

how to live with social media, not for it

So is there an alternative, a “better tomorrow”?

In terms of some geographical migrations, the answer is pretty clear.

In terms of social media platforms, the “push and pull factors” will be different for everyone, as will the things that stop us or help us. What we do will depend on our current interests, preferences, capacities, experiences, resources, needs, and goals.

I’m not yet ready to permanently delete my Instagram profile. Despite everything that drove me away, I’m proud of what I built there and how I expressed myself through it. A part of me doesn’t want that to disappear forever—and yes, I do know I can download it. But I also don’t want to go back. As someone who understands addiction all too well, I don’t think I could return at this moment without quickly falling into the same traps, the same despair, and the same toxic relationship.

Which is why I don’t have the Substack app on my phone. I want to be in control of how I use it (and I use it as a publishing outlet, and god, do I hope I don’t choke on my words). You won’t hear me say, “Bad Instagram, all hail Substack, I pledge my allegiance to the one true God,” while simultaneously posting my Notes four times a day, scrolling, and checking for notifications.

“The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” Albert Einstein

Does Substack have the right to use or create derivative works of my writing5? No.

Does Substack censor my posts? No.

Does Substack have ads? No. (not yet, at least.)

And I’m thankful beyond words for that.

But, spoiler alert: I don’t think Substack is ultimately better than Instagram. Or, let me put it this way—I don’t believe that [insert social media platform name] is better than [insert social media platform name].

There is no “one true god,” at least not in the sense that this god fixes all our social media problems and provides a happily ever after. There are choices, and there are our current preferences and needs. There’s no one way to use it, and maybe there’s no right way to use it—just like there’s no one right way to be in a relationship, or to do anything, really. Everyone has to find their own way of navigating life with social media and deciding what kind of relationship we want to build—and I believe that’s still up to us—despite the odds being stacked against us, despite the evident research, and the fast-learning, ever-growing, seductive algorithms.

As the political landscape of the world shifts, so does its virtual counterpart.

The point is, social media plays a major role our lives, and it’s not disappearing anytime soon. There are very few people who don’t use ANY social networking platform. Maybe you’re one of them, maybe you’re not. Maybe you’re still in the honeymoon phase, or deeply in love with the two platforms you use. Maybe you’re looking to move on, or determined never to go back. Or anything in between.

Whatever it is, find out for yourself how you want to live with it. Observe what works and what doesn’t, what feels right, and what drains your energy and occupies your thoughts beyond repair. If you feel addicted, know that it’s not your fault, and that you’re not the only one, and that, as impossible as it seems, you still hold the power, and it is possible to live a fulfilled, creative life and be seen, connected, and loved without being on social media.

With love,
-Eva ♡