A Social Media Post Mortem

RIP to (some of) my toxic parasocial relationships, FOMO, and existential dread.

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Earlier this year, I had a fever.

Something I’ve noticed about reaching 100 degrees is that my thoughts are simultaneously muddled and clear. As I tossed and turned in sweaty sheets, I had a revelation: I should really delete my social media. It makes me miserable.

Then the fever broke, and I went back to business as usual:

6:30 a.m. Wake up and perform a cursory check of my social media feeds.

7 a.m. Read and write while resisting the urge to check social media.

8:30 a.m. Hop on my laptop and perform my 30-minute ritual of checking in on people I’ve never met or haven’t spoken to in a long time on TikTok, Instagram, and Facebook.

9 a.m. Work.

9:05 a.m. Get distracted by other people’s lives on social media again.

And so on. You get the picture.

I think this pattern may have lasted indefinitely had another fever (this time metaphorical) not come along. Over the last several months of anxiously querying agents and waiting to hear back, my relationship with social media somehow soured even more. While I used to feel inspired by the many writers and artists on my feed, I felt a sudden, claustrophobic jealousy. Whenever someone posted about publishing their book or landing a movie deal, I felt envious instead of happy for them.

I was drinking dopamine-spiked poison and returning each morning for more.

Last Wednesday, things reached a tipping point. I was so anxious that I literally couldn’t look at my computer, so I booked a last-minute acupuncture appointment to calm me down. I will never understand how getting tiny needles jabbed into my body feels so relaxing and clarifying, but at the end of the session, I felt lighter, freer.

My acupuncturist said, “I can tell you’re stressed, but you’re not toxic yet.” And while I admit that I’m not entirely sure what she meant by this, I thought, It’s true, I’m not toxic yet — but if I keep spending two-plus hours a day judging other people’s lives instead of living my own, I will be.

I got home and deactivated everything: Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Threads, TikTok. In the immortal words of NSYNC, “bye bye bye.”

It was shockingly difficult. Many of these apps bury the deactivate and delete options and make you confirm one hundred times over before they finally cut you loose. Now, my only scrolling happens on Substack (a benevolent creature, as social media goes).

I know I’m not the first person to delete her social media and declare it the ultimate mental health hack, but I will say it here anyway: Deleting your social media is the ultimate mental health hack. Over the last week, I’ve had the distance to see how my relationship with these apps has influenced my life. In no particular order, here are my observations:

1. On having social media “for my career”

Since college, I’ve been told that having social media is compulsory for journalists and (more broadly) writers. The logic goes that you need to have your voice out there. You need to be easily discoverable and accessible. After spending my entire career on social media, I can say with certainty that it hasn’t helped my professional life one ounce. If anything, it has harmed it. The self-doubt, the distractions, the targeted content and ads — all these things have slowed down my dreams, and I’m entirely complicit.¹ I own that.

2. On getting served content and products on a silver platter

Here’s a thought: What if I don’t need social media to tell me what I want? What if I gave myself the mental room necessary to identify my desires and needs? When did we start trusting algorithms over our own hearts?

3. On the two reasons I go on social media

Here’s a really wicked thing: I started to notice that I was going on social media for two main reasons.

1. To be envious of the lives I don’t have

2. To look down on the way other people live their lives

I’m most embarrassed to admit this, I think. It has major Olivia Rodrigo “jealousy, jealousy” vibes.

“Co-comparison is killing me slowly
I think, I think too much
'Bout kids who don't know me”

4. On giving time to a company that doesn’t give a sh*t about me or the people I love

Earlier this year, my sister was on a run. While she waited at a traffic light, a man approached and started flirting with her. She didn’t want to talk to him, but she did because women are taught, above all, to be polite to men.

This upstanding, absolute gem of a human being used a camera attached to his glasses to film the whole exchange without her consent. He then posted the video to his millions of followers on Instagram. A friend sent her the video and asked, “Is that you?”

When my sister reported him, Meta gave her the number for the suicide hotline. That’s all.

When my mom reported him, Meta gave her the number for the suicide hotline. That’s all.

When I reported him, Meta gave me the number for the suicide hotline. That’s all.

I think it’s worth noticing when you’re giving time (truly our greatest human resource) to companies who see you as nothing more than a walking wallet. Or, in the case of women, a walking wallet with boobs.

5. On my mind being mine

Fiction is the polar opposite of Twitter/IG/Facebook/etc. It’s empathetic and specific, offering a rich meal of a life (or lives) rather than the bland version we eat up on social media. The bottom line is that I want to spend more time in the world of literature because I think my real-life relationships are better for it. I think my mind will be better for it.

I think this fever will break. ²

Channeling Mary Cassatt’s Little Girl in a Blue Armchair in my post-social media life.

And now, a hard pivot into this week’s writing report. I’ve had a productive week at my keyboard. (Was it the absence of social media? Probably!) The book I’m writing is more autobiographical than my first, which means I’m wading into some tricky territory. Still, the fictionalization makes it bearable and allows me to reveal shades of my story that I’d never be able to access if I were writing non-fiction.

For a cry: May I recommend Sheila Heti’s Pure Colour, a bizarre and brilliant telling of one woman’s journey in the “first draft” of humanity. This is one of those oddball books that wriggles its way into your heart despite your inability to explain it to anyone else.

“The last thing that's needed is to judge your own heart, but then that's the first thing you go and do. A heart rushes to judge itself. A heart should have better things to do. A heart doesn’t.” - Sheila Heti

For a laugh: Welcome to Dolly Alderton’s Good Material, a hilarious account of a recently-dumped British comedian’s efforts to get over his girlfriend. I’ve been enjoying this novel on audiobook and giggling as I fold laundry, go on my runs, and cook dinner.

For pure delight: In last week’s post, I shared that I’d ordered several books about color theory as research for my new book. One in particular has already nestled its way into my heart. It’s basically a field guide that lets you name hues with an exactness that is just… so satisfying. It’s called Werner’s Nomenclature of Colors, and I think you should gift it to yourself before the fall colors arrive and you have no way of telling the difference between scarlet and vermillion red. (The horror!)

Last week’s post happened to go out during Substack site maintenance (womp, womp), so here it is again — just in case you missed it. :)

Thank you, as always, for reading and subscribing to Life Lives. I would love to hear your thoughts on social media in the comments. Has it helped you? Harmed you? A little bit of both?

1. Here, I want to say that every once in a while, I have met someone amazing on social media.

2. I know social media benefits many people. What comes to mind is some reporting I did on caregivers of those with long COVID a few years ago. Without social media, people all across the globe may never have been able to connect with others who were put in the position of caring for someone with a barely-understood condition. I think social media can be beneficial, particularly for hyper-specific communities. Again, this piece is really to say that it’s not for me — and I think many of us would benefit from logging off for a while.