I quit instagram two years ago. It took me this long to deactivate my account.

If I don't have a social media profile anymore, do I even exist?

This upcoming summer, I’ll hit a milestone that I genuinely didn’t think was possible: two years off Instagram.

When I was in the thick of my addictive relationship with the app, I both couldn’t imagine this kind of freedom and desperately yearned for it. That particular combination of knowing something is bad for you and doing it anyway is its own special kind of low.

Do you know the feeling? You’re watching story after story, reel after reel, thinking, “what am I doing? I don’t actually care about any of this.” And yet, you keep going. You take a break only to add something you don’t need to your cart, then go right back to scrolling.

I didn’t think I could break that cycle.

But I did.

I logged off. Deleted the apps. And mostly, I haven’t looked back.

Mostly. 😉

a slow fade

I’ve logged back in here and there. I came back once to grab recipes I’d saved, then screenshot them and put them in my Notes app. After that, I’d check in every few weeks to scan for major announcements. Baby news. Engagements. Weddings. The things that, at the time, I worried I’d miss.

But before long, I stopped caring to do even that.

I realized that the people who are actually in my life will tell me about these things in person. And somewhere along the way, I started to find it a little strange, a little impersonal, to learn about someone’s life through their grid rather than their voice. To “know” things about someone without them ever telling you.

what I missed

A close friend of mine was in a car accident. I had no idea.

Months later, over coffee, she mentioned it. “Didn’t you see I posted about it?”

I hadn’t. And the longer I sat with that moment, the more it clarified something for me: being offline hadn’t made me a worse friend. If anything, it had made me more present. The people I’m close to know how to reach me. And if something significant happens, I want to hear directly it from them, not scroll past it on my phone.

why not?

Recently, I took my Instagram break a step further and archived all my photos, leaving my grid blank. But I still didn’t deactivate the account.

And I’ve been sitting with that question…why not?

I genuinely don’t plan to return. So what’s the hold up?

I wonder sometimes if Meta has done such an effective job of equating a profile with existence that even I, someone who writes about screen time, haven’t been entirely immune. It’s like a listing in a phone book you’re not sure you should remove your name from. My friends and family know how to reach me. There’s nothing being posted. So what, exactly, am I preserving?

If I’m honest with myself, I think part of me has worried about what happens when someone searches my name and comes up empty. Will they wonder? Will they assume something’s wrong? Do I actually care?

I know the answer. The yearning for relevancy is deeply human. But a dormant profile with no activity isn’t relevance. It’s just a placeholder. And what’s the point?

The point for me is living a life that feels genuinely mine. And that’s been waiting for me offline this whole time.

So, by the time you read this, it’s done. My data is downloaded. My profile is deactivated, or in the queue to be.

It feels right.

What about you? Do you exist online or offline?