COMING BACK TO INSTAGRAM: Why did I do this?!
Imagine you are at a party. It’s loud and crowded, and everyone is flaunting their best dance moves like they are auditioning for a reality show. You step outside for a breath of fresh air, and when you reenter, it feels like everyone inside has somehow gotten even more adventurous, successful, and ridiculously photogenic. That’s Instagram. After a year and a half away from the party, I’m standing in the doorway, wondering why on Earth I came back. But here I am. So, let’s talk about it.
Finding Joy Beyond the Screen
Taking a break from Instagram is like stepping off a carousel that’s spinning way too fast. You stop, catch your breath, and realize, “Wow. I’ve been dizzy for years! And do I even like carousels?!”. In that stillness, you find space and clarity. You stop thinking every meal needs evidence or your workout is lacking because it isn’t happening on a beach in Tulum. The world looks different without the lens of comparison.
During my break, I had moments of unexpected joy—like sitting in the woods, watching the leaves sway in the wind. No filters, no hashtags, just nature doing its thing. It wasn’t Insta-worthy, but it was perfect in its simplicity. And there was something else: my attention span started to come back from the dead. I could read books again—actual books! The kind with pages and words. I enjoyed each paragraph, diving deep into the narrative instead of feeling distracted every 5 seconds.
There was another time I got caught in a rainstorm without my phone. Instead of rushing for cover, I stayed, drenched but laughing, embracing the feeling of being in the moment. I want more of that feeling, even while I’m back online. This time, I plan to scroll less and engage more intentionally. It’s all about setting boundaries.
And, honestly, I missed people. Remember when social media was about connecting with friends instead of chasing likes? Before it became a dopamine casino, it was just a way to keep up with people. Coming back lets me reconnect with people I’ve drifted from. For example, returning to Instagram allowed me to reconnect with an old friend. We discovered we’d both flown into Las Vegas at the same time—a coincidence I wouldn’t have known without being online. Conflicting schedules prevented us from meeting up, but we were able to catch up nonetheless. Using social media to be social—who would’ve thought?
Navigating the Comparison Game
Returning to Instagram feels like diving into a pool without checking if there’s water in it. I’ve been on the outside, basking in a slower, quieter world. Now, I’m stepping back into a place designed to keep me on my toes, constantly comparing, always needing more. It’s like stepping into a boxing ring with the heavyweight champion of FOMO.
Instagram is a never-ending game of “Who’s Got the Better Life?” Everyone posts their best moments –dream vacations, perfect relationships, and avocado toast that looks like it belongs in an art gallery. Meanwhile, I’m over here wondering when I last did laundry. And has my shirt really been on inside out all day? The risk of falling back into the comparison trap is real.
To counter this, I’ve adopted a simple mindfulness practice. When I catch myself comparing, I pause, lock my phone, take a deep breath, and think of something I’m grateful for. It might sound cliché, but it helps ground me and pull me out of that toxic mindset. Another trick? I keep a list of “real-life” wins—things that don’t make it to Instagram but are meaningful to me, like finally fixing that leaky faucet or managing to go an entire day without replying-all to a company-wide email. Not exactly the stuff you see on #LifeGoals. But these are real moments that make life what it is. It’s messy and awkward, and that’s okay. It’s my highlight reel, and I’m weirdly proud of it.
Still, I worry about falling back into old habits. Before my break, checking Instagram was as automatic as breathing. Wake up, check Instagram. Lunch break, check Instagram. Go to bed, check Instagram. It was a mindless loop I didn’t even notice I was in. Taking time off broke that cycle, but I fear it could easily restart. Instagram is designed to be addictive and keep us scrolling endlessly. My challenge now is to stay aware and intentional. Whenever I open the app, it must be for a reason—not just because I’m bored or avoiding something else.
Staying Grounded
So, what’s the game plan to avoid going down the rabbit hole again? For starters, I’m setting some rules. I’m using screen time limits to cut myself off after a certain point. I’ve decided to keep my phone out of the bedroom, especially at night, because nothing good comes from doom-scrolling at 1 a.m. I’m also trying out apps like Clearspace that gently remind me to take a break or help me focus on more meaningful content. And I’m scheduling specific times to check Instagram rather than opening it impulsively. These strategies have already been helping—like when I reached for my phone out of habit, only to remember the app was locked. Instead of mindlessly scrolling, I grabbed a book instead.
Mindfulness also plays a huge role. My year and a half off taught me the value of living in the moment. Without the constant ping of notifications or the subconscious pull to document every mundane activity, I started to notice the world around me. I found joy in doing nothing. That’s a mindset I’m bringing back—using Instagram without losing myself in it.
My mental health is worth protecting. Without the digital noise, my mind felt clearer, my anxiety decreased, and I stopped feeling the need to keep up or measure my worth by likes. Coming back, I’m keeping that sense of peace as my anchor. If it gets too overwhelming, I know I have the power to step back. My value isn’t up for public debate. My self-worth isn’t tied to a number on a screen. I’m returning with thicker skin and a stronger sense of who I am – it has nothing to do with how many people liked my latest post.
The Double-Edged Sword
So, why come back at all? Why risk getting sucked back into the endless scroll and comparison game? It’s like knowing a particular food gives you heartburn, but eating it anyway because it tastes so good. The psychological pull of social media is real—it’s designed to fulfill a need for connection, to give us a hit of dopamine with every like and comment. We’re drawn back because, deep down, we crave that sense of belonging and validation, even when we know it’s not the healthiest thing for us.
I’ve felt that pull intensely at times. One moment stands out: I remember posting a photo that I thought was pretty good—a mountain range at sunrise. It didn’t get many likes, and I checked my phone obsessively, feeling a little sting of disappointment each time. I chased that dopamine hit like a gambler pulling a slot machine lever. It was a wake-up call.
But there’s more to it. Social media allows us to curate our identities and present the version of ourselves we want the world to see. There’s power in that, but it’s also a double-edged sword. The challenge is engaging without getting entangled and participating without losing ourselves in the process. And let’s not forget those who use it for business or creativity – it can be a tool for growth and expression. For some, it’s more than a social game; it’s a livelihood, a portfolio, or a stage. My photography, for instance, has been published because someone discovered my work on Instagram. That’s a pretty cool upside.
If you are reading this, maybe it’s time to ask yourself: Have I ever felt like a number on a screen was measuring my worth? Does social media add value to my life, or does it add stress? Try going a day without Instagram and see what you notice. It might be worth taking a step back to find out, even for a little while.
Returning with Purpose
So here I am, back on Instagram, cautiously optimistic and a little wiser. There are good reasons to be here but real risks, too. I’m re-entering the party with a clearer sense of purpose. This time, I know where I want to be and who I want to spend my time with. The key, I think, is to remember the lessons I’ve learned: stay mindful, protect my mental health, understand my worth beyond the screen, and prioritize real-life connections. If I can do that, maybe—just maybe—I can make Instagram a part of my life without letting it run my life. Or, who knows? Maybe I’ll delete it all again and go back to watching the leaves. Let’s find out.
