Social disconnection

I took a 2-year hiatus from Instagram and it was one of the best decisions I ever made.

I was never a chronic user of Instagram. I didn’t scroll for hours at a time or get lost in reels, and unless I was travel-spamming, I didn’t post consistently or upload daily stories. And filters and photo editing software were as lost on me as my witty captions were on my followers who lacked an appreciation for puns (their loss).

But I was, however, a chronic perfectionist. Years of feeling like I didn’t fit in drove me to obsession with being the ‘perfect person’ and living the ‘perfect life’ in the hopes I’d finally be worthy of being accepted by everyone.

And Instagram became my digital documentation of this ‘perfect’ well-rounded life I was trying to live: proof of my academic pursuits in ‘subjects that matter’, i.e. science and maths, an overflowing social calendar with a big, diverse circle of friends, and an extensively stamped passport.

But I didn’t feel like I was living. Nothing felt the way I thought it’d feel. I felt like I was performing. And I was. I was doing things like partying and going out not because I truly wanted to but because not doing them (and admitting I’d rather be at home doing ‘dorky’ things like reading or writing) would mean I wasn’t perfect and wasn’t ‘making the most of my youth’ and I wasn’t ready to face that reality.

Until I was. Why? Because trying to be perfect had brought me no closer to feeling accepted, only further away from my true self. And when I realised this, Instagram became stifling. All I could see was perfection – perfect holidays, perfect relationships, perfect friendships, perfect skin, perfect bodies, perfect clothes – and I was promptly reacquainted with those feelings of not being good enough that started my whole obsession with being perfect. But rather than playing into those fears the way the fragile teenage version of me did, putting her self-worth into the hands of others, I decided to go cold turkey and remove myself from the platform entirely.

Deleting Instagram, for me, was like cancelling a long-running TV show. I, the leading actress, had grown out of the ‘perfect person, perfect life’ role I’d been playing, and it was time to end the broadcast before I became typecast, and rediscover all the things I was happy to do even when no one was watching. Without relying on other people for (mis)guidance on what’s important in life (because according to many, it’s aesthetically pleasing brunches every Sunday, sunset proposals in Santorini, and drinking overpriced cocktails in overcrowded bars every weekend), I reconnected with what truly matters to me (like writing and cultivating real, imperfect friendships) and came to understand the sort of life I actually wanted to live (quiet, intentional and adventurous).

And during my Instagram hiatus, I was finally able to read between the LIEnes of the content I’d been posting and understand how I’d been playing into my overwhelming fear of not being good enough.   

1.     The LIE: A professionally taken group photo with the nightclub’s logo emblazoned in the corner (remember when nightclubs used to have photographers? Or maybe they still do, and it’s just been years since I’ve been to a nightclub – if you can shed any light on this, let me know in the comments).

There are 15 people in the photo, including me front and centre, my best friend at the time, some of her friends from uni, their boyfriends, and said boyfriends’ friends. Us girls are in mini-skirts and crop tops, our hair straightened, and our eye makeup heavy-handed (well, mine is). We’re all grinning big drunken grins, each holding a drink in our hand, and appear to be a fun group having a fun night out.

Between the LIEnes: We hardly knew each other. I’d barely spoken to anyone in the photo aside from my best friend who’d invited me. I know none of the boys’ names in this photo, except for the one whose advances I’d been uncomfortably rejecting all night. I felt self-conscious in such little clothing, but it was too hot inside the nightclub to be wearing a jacket. My feet were killing me. When the photo had been taken, I’d been dying to call it a night and go to bed. But it was ‘only’ twelve-thirty. The night was still ‘just getting started’. There was still much ‘fun’ to be had with my fun group of ‘friends’.

I made my excuses and left the club twenty minutes later.

2.     The LIE: A grainy shot of four aesthetically pleasing, perfect serves of pasta in huge white plates.

Between the LIEnes: It was so loud in the restaurant that we could barely hear each other. I waited over an hour for an overpriced, overrated spoonful of pasta that didn’t come close to satiating me. But everyone had been going to this restaurant with their friends and/or partners lately and if I didn’t go with my friends, then I’d feel left out.

3.     The LIE: An aerial picture of me sunbaking on the beach in an olive-green bikini, smiling up at the camera.

Between the LIEnes: I was incredibly self-conscious in that bikini. Did I look fat? Was my stomach flat enough? How noticeable was the cellulite on my thighs? Was I showing too much cleavage? I love the beach, but I hate wearing underwear in public. But no one posted pictures in boardshorts or a one piece – only bikinis. I’d agonised for hours about posting a photo of myself in a bikini. I didn’t want people to ridicule my body behind my back. But everyone was posting beach pics. So I needed to post beach pics to assure myself and everyone else that I was making the most of the hot weather.

4.     The LIE: A selfie, me grinning behind a complex-looking set up of chemistry apparatus, in my element in the lab.

Between the LIEnes: I never felt comfortable in labs. I had mad imposter syndrome, studying chemistry at a university level. I did not think I was smart enough to be there. The coursework was hard and demanding. I was struggling to understand it (if the words ‘cyclohexane chair flip’, ‘axial’, and ‘equatorial’ trigger you, you probably feel my pain). I dreaded lab time because I was terrified of doing something dumb in front of my much, much smarter classmates (like blowing up the lab accidentally) so I studied for hours at night to keep up and overprepare for lab sessions. And even then, it wasn’t enough – my grades were far from perfect and my lab reports were riddled with red marks week after week. I criticised myself relentlessly and dreaded receiving my grades back and the inevitable comparisons with my peers, who were all seemingly cruising through their degrees.

So…..why am I back on Instagram now?

Well, in the two years I’ve been away, I’ve had a lot of freed-up mental energy. And I used this to rediscover who I really am and do things for myself, not for an audience. One of the things I did was get back into creative writing, which I always loved doing as a kid but was replaced with stuffy, academic-style writing as I proceeded through uni. I completed my first novel (check it out here), entered a few short story comps (didn’t win anything though), and journaled almost daily. I learned (and am still learning) a lot about myself, and I figured that I can’t be the only one who’s reached an impasse in their life where the illusion of perfection has finally shattered.

The fear of not being good enough is devastatingly widespread nowadays and speaking from experience, causes people to act out of accordance with their true values and pursue things they’re not truly passionate about which, ironically, only exacerbates the feeling of not being good enough.

I was very tempted to stay off of Instagram forever, safeguarding the newfound imperfect life I was happily living. But one thing kept gnawing at me: would I truly be fighting my ‘I’m not good enough’ mentality if I wasn’t even on the battlefield?

So fuck it, here I am. Terrified but ready to have my writing ripped to shreds and face the prospect of judgement and criticism for living a life that’s true to my values. I want to normalise the imperfect parts of life that rarely feature in the final cut on social media. So, I’m rejoining the online community not as a leading actress who embodies the ‘perfect person, perfect life’ trope but as a misfit character who’s chronicling one hell of a development arc.

Because if I can help people understand that who they truly are is and always will be more than enough, then I’m inclined to do so. Because I’m passionate about challenging the brutal lies that say otherwise, whether they’re told by others or ourselves.

I call this new way of life reading between the LIEnes.