Why I'm leaving Instagram
I'm done whoring out my life
It was August 2022 and I just returned from spending a month on the Appalachian trail for my annual hiking trip.
I was entirely off social media for the duration of the hike and I barely used my phone in general, aside from the camera and a navigation app.
On my first day back to work after living in the woods, I logged onto Instagram, since social media marketing is (was?) a big part of my work as a private practice dietitian.
Immediately, I was inundated with content;
A fellow dietitian danced around in a reel, pointing as words appeared on the screen.
A picture of a latte.
A clip of someone eating.
A couple announcing their engagement, the woman holding her hand up to the camera, acting out a surprised look on her face.
My eye muscles strained. After a whole month of looking at vast nature scenes from mountain tops, I wasn’t used to focusing on small photos and words.
As the content continued to whiz by in my feed, I was struck with an overwhelming sense of detachment.
In the wake of such a profound and present experience on trail, the idea of broadcasting content to a virtual social network– something I previously hadn’t given much of a second thought– suddenly felt impossibly silly.
“It’s part of the job,” I told myself, aware that it was a necessary aspect of my work (or so I was told).
So I sat, trying to find the words to say to my community as I “reentered” Instagram.
Time went on and the habit of sharing my life and consuming content of other people sharing their lives began to feel status quo again.
I went back to posting regular content to my feed several times per week and chatting with my community on stories daily.
The sense of disconnection faded as time passed, but I never forgot that initial feeling of absurdity that I experienced upon returning to social media after the hike.
I didn’t know it then, but this story was the first of several breadcrumbs leading me down a path to the eventual decision to leave Instagram.
I’m on a solo hike through the redwoods to decompress after a day of work. The afternoon light is twinkling into the forest, the sun playing peek-a-boo behind the trees. It’s a serene, magical scene and I have every intention of being present with my thoughts in nature.
But I can’t help noticing…
The lighting and the scene is perfect for shooting content.
“I’ll just take one video of myself hiking and then I’ll put my phone away to enjoy the solitude,” I bargain with myself.
I prop my phone up against a tree and hit record, walking away in the direct line of the camera. Once I feel like I’ve gotten a sufficient clip, I turn around and head back towards my phone.
The act of turning around to retrieve my phone makes me feel silly.
Continuing on with my hike, another idea for content pops into my head… “What if this time instead of a walking video, I’m standing, looking up at the trees, taking a sip of my water, that’ll be nice and pensive.”
Before I know it, I’m propping up the phone against a rock, recording another video.
I brought my journal with me on this hike, planning to do some writing on a bench amidst the trees. When I get to the bench and open my journal, I can’t help but think how a clip of me writing could make useful b-roll for future content.
I’m aware that my solo hike has turned into a content shooting session, and I feel a sense of guilt for not unplugging and being present like I had planned. Telling myself this will be the last video, I prop my phone up once more and hit record.
After enough experiences like this one, I eventually came to terms with the reality that my near compulsive urge to create content was robbing me of presence.
This realization was another breadcrumb on the path to leaving Instagram.
There were several other breadcrumbs along the way—
Like the time I was scrolling in bed and accidentally dropped my phone on my face.
Or the stretch of months after reels came out when I barely had time to eat lunch between clients because I was too busy filming content of myself cooking. I felt so much pressure to capitalize on my eating experiences as teaching moments for my followers that I couldn’t eat without making the meal into content.
A more recent “breadcrumb” leading me closer to the decision to leave instagram came in the form of a conversation with my mentor.
I was trying to put into words something about Instagram that had been feeling funky for me. “Something feels off about the format of sharing b-roll clips of my personal life with text over it as content, I can’t exactly put my finger on it,” I explained to her on one of our calls.
“It sounds like you don’t like the feeling of whoring out your life,” she said.
That was exactly it.
There’s something disturbing to me about the fact that I have a folder on my phone called “b-roll” containing random videos of me doing mundane, yet personal things; journaling while sipping tea, lacing up my shoes, drying my hair, eating, stretching.
It became increasingly difficult to actually live my life as opposed to think about how I could capitalize on my life for content.
Naming the way Instagram made me feel like I had to whore out my life was another major breadcrumb.
The most recent breadcrumb— the “final breadcrumb”— came in the form of an essay I read here on Substack by
called To be (or not to be) online. In the post, she talks about her search for successful small businesses that are not on social media, highlighting someone named who runs a podcast production company called Softer Sounds.Amelia also hosts a podcast called “Off The Grid” where she teaches small business owners how to leave social media while still running successful businesses.
Discovering Amelia’s work was the missing piece I needed in order to actually take action and come up with a plan for leaving social media and to figure out how I’ll continue connecting with my community elsewhere.
If I’m being honest, I’m scared. I’ve built a thriving private practice over the last three years, and it’s not lost on me that I owe that success in part to the incredible tool that is social media.
Will ideal clients continue to find me when I’m not on Instagram? Will I still be able to nurture relationships with my community? Will people see me as illegitimate if I don’t have an active IG presence? These are all questions that have run through my head.
The journey of deciding to leave Instagram has been a grieving process. The stages of grief are:
Anger
Bargaining
Sadness
Acceptance
I’ve gone through them all. I’ve felt angry at myself for not being more disciplined with my Instagram usage and I’ve also felt angry at the way the app is engineered to be addictive.
I’ve done so much bargaining in the form of designated breaks from the app and differing boundaries over the years. I’ve tried keeping my phone in the other room to avoid scrolling at night or first thing in the morning— it works for a little but has never lasted. I’ve created boundaries about logging off at certain times or on certain days of the week— again, this has never been sustainable. I’ve tried to ~redefine~ my relationship with Instagram— this has helped some, but still doesn’t feel like enough.
Currently, I’m somewhere between sadness and acceptance, depending on the moment. I’m sad because IG has lead to wonderful connections with incredible humans, many of whom have became dear friends and/ or clients. IG made my dream of owning a private nutrition practice a reality— by no means has the app been all bad.
I am beyond grateful for the community I’ve built through Instagram and, at the same time, I can’t ignore the inner whispers telling me that the practice of social media marketing no longer feels aligned.
I’ve been unknowingly following the breadcrumbs for over a year and I’ve finally arrived, standing on the brink of a big leap— one I’m prepared to take.
The Plan:
The plan is for me too log off IG by my birthday, March 25th. This will give me plenty of time (4.5 ish months) to get folks from my community to join me in other places (my newsletter, the blog, the podcast, etc).
In the meantime, I plan to transition to mainly using Instagram to share about the work I’m doing in other places. I also plan to share a bunch of free resources with my community on IG in the coming months (definitely stay tunes for that).
If you’ve gotten value from my Instagram page over the last few years, I hope you’ll continue to get value from the work I share in other places. Thanks for being here, a part of this (relatively) new community off IG, on Substack. 💛
xoxo
Leah
P.S The people pleaser in me wants to make clear that I do not judge anyone for being on Instagram. I recognize that people have varying relationships with the app and small business owners might be in different seasons of business where the app serves different purposes. For me, in this season, it was no longer feeling aligned.
i resonate with this so much. i’ve gotten in the habit of deleting the app for period of time and that helps a bunch but the urge to make brill is sometimes always there. can’t wait to follow along your journey
I totally respect your decision, and it's important to prioritize what's best for you. Stick with it, and you'll see new and exciting opportunities come your way!