My life as a human test subject, or The effect of social media on my so-called life

One of the most powerful books I’ve read in 2019 is Catherine Price’s non-fiction book How To Break Up With Your Phone. I read it twice this year, first in the summer and then in October for the second time. In the book, Price sheds light on what is known of the effects of social media on us, human beings, thus far.

If you’ve been following up on the subject — it’s been talked about in the media a lot in the past year or so — none of it will come as a surprise for you. But it’s worth noting that the book brilliantly explains how we’ve all been turned into test subjects in a study we don’t know we’re being studied in. Based on my reading of the book, I wanted to conduct a little study on my own, to find out what the effects of Instagram in particular were on my psyche and my life in its entirety.

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As I’m writing this, it’s been approximately six weeks since I deleted all social media apps on my phone. While it was never my intention to completely give up my phone during the month we — my husband and I — set out to be more intentional with screens, I was decided on not being active on Instagram, Pinterest, LinkedIn or any other forms of social media I usually use daily, and in that I mainly succeeded for over a month.

For me, the biggest habit change was definitely Instagram, which I’ve been using almost daily since 2015. I had already deleted my bigger account six months earlier, but now I was faced with not being on my smaller, personal account either. At first, for a couple of days after deleting the app, I experienced something akin to the phantom pains that people who have lost a limb say they have; I kept checking my phone, scrolling to where the app usually was on my screen, ready to click it only to discover it wasn’t there. It always came as a surprise — not the fact that it wasn’t there but the realization that I had totally forgotten that.

We all know this: social media apps are designed to be addictive. Steve Jobs knew this, and that’s why he put limits on his kids’ use of technology his company had developed, as did Bill Gates. From previous experience, I knew it was going to happen: I had withdrawal symptoms. But just like when quitting smoking, it became a lot easier after a few days. In fact, I quite started enjoying the freedom of mind that not being under influence gave me.

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 At first, the greatest benefit was my clearer head: I was more present, more fully there in my real life, as I wasn't constantly wondering, worrying, and thinking about my other life online. I had marvellous times with my daughter in the afternoons when she came home from school, because I wasn't hurrying our conversations in order to return more quickly to the conversations I was having with my invisible friends. But it soon turned out I was more present for myself even. Because I wasn't under influence, I started remembering things I used to love, things I used to do; it felt like I was becoming more like myself than I had been in years.

I'm not saying that I'm pretending to be someone completely different from my normal self on Instagram, though I would like to point out that it's entirely possible that many of the people we follow on there may actually purport to be what they're not. That nice lady who's always so polite to her followers and seems like the nicest person on earth could actually be a total douchebag in real life. But that's not what I'm talking about.

What I mean by saying 'more like myself' is this: When under influence, we all pretty much live in tiny bubbles full of Instagram people. People we find like-minded and generally get along with. Little by little, our words and thoughts affect the minds of these friends, as much as theirs affect ours. We probably do not even notice it, but as we're constantly being inspired, we're also constantly changing, just a little, to acclimate into our bubble better, to have more relevant ideas to share. Sharing is caring, right?

Not under the influence, I felt like I had my freedom of thought back.

***

Another benefit, a great one, was the feeling of connection I was beginning to feel with the world at large, but with also other people around me, as the days of being sober-minded passed by. For years, I've been telling myself I'm an introvert who doesn't like being around people; hence social media is a great way to make friends and connect with like-minded individuals from around the world without actually having to meet anyone face to face. I wonder how many of us tell ourselves that?

It turns out that might not be my case. I found myself thriving in feeling connected with lots of people, from family to relatives to friends to complete strangers, when I didn't have my invisible friends to talk to. I actually started actively seeking real life connection by taking the time to call people, visit people I haven't seen in a long time, going out with friends, and volunteering for local children and youth charities. Folks, this change in me happened in less than six weeks. 

Could it actually be that I had been so sucked in to the invisible world, and was so much under the influence of it, that I had started telling myself fairytales about myself in order to legitimize my ever-present headaches that originated in staring at the screen?

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The thing is, even as my life started slowly shifting from so-called to real and actual, I found myself thinking of Instagram every now and then. There really are people I missed chatting to online, and I wanted to catch up with them. Given that many of them were overseas, it wasn't very easy. I also had this nagging voice in my head constantly wondering whether quitting my bigger account had, in fact, been a wasted opportunity. People have this conception that you could easily make some money off Instagram, and that this will just magically happen when your follower count starts rising. Lots of people around me seemed to think I should've been milking my audience instead of resorting to oblivion.

So as to not be, or let everybody else be, eternally wondering what if, after six weeks of sober freedom I activated both of my accounts in one go. I had pictures ready, I had the words, so it was all done within a matter of minutes. The flood of messages welcoming me back on the app made my heart warm and swell with joy, and I instantly started connecting with the people I had missed. It was so easy, so natural.

The next day was a Sunday, which in our family is a phone-free day. In the morning, I felt a little hangoverish from the previous day's social media binge, but I soon felt better as I secretly took my phone in the loo with me and checked Instagram to make sure it was still there, that I was still there. I was! but the amount of heart-clicks on my photos didn't really please me, so I kept checking in secretly throughout the day even though I knew I wasn't going to be very visible on the app anyway, having been away and all.

That evening, as the hangover kept easing up, the dread slowly set in. What the hell had I done? Having gained a clearer mind, a more social and fulfilling everyday life, and wonderful real connections, I had given it all back, in order to be under influence, in just a few clicks. No matter how noble my plan had been when deciding to activate my bigger account, it definitely didn't make up for the loss of focus resulting from being constantly occupied by something that isn't actually there. Whereas my small, personal, without-an-agenda account gave me no headache, returning to @ofsimplicity actually made me lose sleep.

I did post one more time. Just to make entirely sure. Oh yes, it was definitely anxiety that crushed my chest after hitting the post button. What if it was the post that would make me look like a total failure?

***

It'd take me months, I presume, to convince myself that an Instagram presence with the possibility having influence and making an impact is worth this. It has taken me exactly four days to convince myself that it is not. Never mind the possibly lost opportunities, there is no way I am willing to live with this constant dread of not being enough that Instagram gives me. 

As for my invisible friends online, I don't want to lose them, but I also want to be here for the real people in my real life, so this is a balance I will need to negotiate with myself as days go by. For now, I'll just focus on connection, not heart-shaped invisible likes.

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