I’ve known for a while that I have an unhealthy relationship with Instagram. It is the platform that I am most active on and the app of choice for most of my peers. As someone who is extremely social, it makes sense that the app that allows me to easily connect with acquaintances and keep up with them is the one I’d choose.

I noticed that it has become something more than just a networking app though; it’s become a drip feed of pseudo socialization.

Most (if not all) of my friends would tell you straight away that I can talk with anyone. I often do. You’ll find me striking up conversations with strangers (pre-friends) or talking for ages with someone I do know. A lot of people express admiration of this trait. They say things like “Oh, I could never do something like that” or “Of course you know this person, you talk to everyone in Sacramento.” Haha. Very funny.

While I’m not afraid of parties or social engagements that require some kind of interaction (parties, film screenings, public events) there is something I am afraid of: being alone.

So I turn to Instagram.

I find it so difficult to be alone. I want – crave – social interaction to a fault. I have become almost reliant on being able to talk to people. I cram my days with events and activities so I’m not left alone. That’s pretty much all I can think about: What is the next thing I’m going to do?

And what if I don’t find that next thing? Well, then I’m stuck at home, feeling incredibly alone. Left out. Fearing I’m missing out on something. Don’t really know what that something is, but I know I’m missing out. Being my own company is anathema to me.

Enter Instagram. It’s a perfect vessel to provide me with the confirmation I am missing out on something. Providing me with the knowledge that people are doing things without me and that I’m actually not liked, desired, or wanted around.

Welcome back depression and anxiety. You haven’t been missed.

The more bored I become, the more alone I feel, the sadder I become and then I go on Instagram more often, feeding the cycle. Suddenly I’m despairing and struggling to straighten out these thoughts that rocket through my mind.

All of this I’ve known for a decent while now, but it wasn’t until I put it all together that I realized how unhealthy it was for me to have Instagram on my phone.

“Well, duh,” I can hear you say.

Yeah yeah, sometimes it takes a bit longer than I’d like to admit for me to get something through my head. Either way, I’m finally making steps to get ahead of this.

First step? Deleting Instagram off my phone. My goal is to be off Instagram (the app) for a week. I can still check it but it has to be through a browser on a computer. Zero smartphone access allowed.

I’ve already had it off my phone for two days now and let me tell you, the amount of FOMO that jolted through my body is palpable. I was disgusted by how often I reached for my phone to check Instagram or how much I felt like I could be missing out on a Story post. My mind flitted to all the times Instagram has facilitated good interaction and connection between me and others. If I hadn’t been on the app, then I would’ve missed those opportunities.

Pause.

“Opportunities?” Just because the app isn’t on my phone doesn’t mean I can check it a few times, I told myself. I could’ve seen those posts on my laptop and still done 90% of them. The other 10% of the interactions strictly through Instagram would have been fine to not have them. Or maybe they wouldn’t have. Either way, it really isn’t a big deal.

It was the mind of an addict coming to terms with trying to quit a substance. A substance that simply drives me to constantly think down on my own being.

Another thing I’ve come to realize about Instagram is that the app only really provides shallow connection between people.

I was sitting at a lounge with a friend of mine when I realized that we wouldn’t have become true friends if she had an Instagram. Because she didn’t have one, we were forced to trade numbers and actually communicate. We setup photography walks and went to events together.

When I say I love social interactions, I wasn’t lying. However, what I love more is real connection that is usually fostered through in-person interaction, not through social media. I need to simply just take the leap and skip the phrase “What’s your Instagram?” (The caveat here is if I’m really just trying to have a generalized connection and not build something more. There are times for this.)

Part of this is also going to be accepting the rejection of that phone number. Or accepting the fact that even though I offer my number and they accept it, they might not feel like connecting back. It is all in pursuit to solidify a relationship and nurture it beyond that initial meeting.

A quick side note: by relationship I don’t mean romantic only. I mean any kind of human relationship.

All of this to really say that I’ve finally realized how much I’ve been prioritizing the Instagram mutual follow. In my head it was a safer alternative, a way to avoid making people feel uncomfortable. It still is. Once that initial awkwardness is over, I’ve been trying to make the leap to trading direct communication. In my mind, it simply means that I am no longer going to invest in a bunch of shallow connections, propped up by a social media app designed to hold your attention and feed you FOMO all the time.

It is vulnerable to make those leaps from Instagram to phone; for what reason, I really don’t know. Ultimately, I have to be okay with taking an untold number of plunges; those leaps into an unknown, offering a piece of myself to a stranger.