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How deleting my Instagram account helped reduce my anxiety
By Emma Foster
Nov. 18, 2016
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As I sat with my American mission team and the Cambodian translators who traveled from village to village with us, I wrestled my phone out of my backpack. A moment like this was too surreal not to capture, I thought. I wanted to share this experience with everyone who would look, and I told myself that a picture taken on this boat would be my one and only Instagram post from the mission trip.
I wanted to connect with those I loved and missed, and I wanted to connect with those I hadn’t kept up with over the years too. I snapped photo after photo. I turned to the sea and took pictures of the deep turquoise water, waving to us as we moved through it. The gray sky perfectly greeted the vibrancy of colors in the other boats around us.
Then I shoved my phone into the hands of a guy who was on the mission team and asked him to take pictures of my friend EJ Turner and me. Determined to find the on-cloud-nine-without-a-care-in-the-world image I was going for, I studied each shot thoroughly.
I posted one of those photos on Instagram a week after I came back to the states, only to delete my account two weeks later.
Three weeks earlier, at the beginning of May, I had taken a step forward in my fight with anxiety after months, if not years, of struggling with the negative effects of social media on my life. With a six-week mission trip to Thailand and Cambodia right around the corner, I had decided I wouldn’t let Instagram, the platform that affected me the most, have any power over me during my travels. I’d already deleted Snapchat at that point, and I wasn’t an avid Facebook or Twitter user.
I had challenged myself to not post photos while abroad or anything about the trip afterward, but I caved. I didn’t tell anyone because I feared no one would understand or they’d think I decided to do the challenge out of pride. I knew the way social media made me feel, but I did not know exactly why.
…
My breaks from Instagram, an automatic Emma-anxiety-inducer, began in January.
Something about filling my mind with all that everyone else was doing – whether they were my friends, mere acquaintances or complete strangers – made me wholly discontent with however my life was going at the moment. I could be at a close friend’s birthday celebration, check my Instagram for a minute and have the joy sucked out of me like a vacuum cleaner sucks air out of a plastic bag.
The only times the app did not give me anxiety was when I would post a picture to feel good and show off. There I’d be, lying in my bed at noon, still in my pajamas, eating Goldfish out of a styrofoam cup, but showing my little Instagram world one out of 17 pictures I snapped the night before that I thought would give off the right image. I’d find a picture of me and my friend dressed up for my sorority’s semi-formal, chosen out of a slew of pictures of various groups and settings.
But I turned to Instagram to find the value and worth I couldn’t naturally see in myself. When the likes and comments did not satisfy, I became nervous and stressed. I essentially handed over the rights to my emotional state to a social media platform.
Amber Young, an assistant professor of information systems at the University of Arkansas, researched how social media affects our behavior. She said that the feedback we receive from our posts on social media can result in a social pressure to live up to the image we portray online, which explains the anxiety and stress I often felt after spending 20 minutes on Instagram.
“There is a basic human desire to be known and to be known as the person we see ourselves as,” Young said
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A member of Emma’s mission team takes a video while riding in the back of a van through Chiang Mai, Thailand, in May 2018. Photo by Courtney Poos
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A longing to show my Instagram world the beautiful and unique experience I was living motivated me to take out my phone in that moment in the Cambodian sea. I wanted others to know what was happening in me, which is totally normal, according to Young. A change occurred in me, whether it was in mind or soul, as my eyes drank in the charming, colorful boats floating in the turquoise and white-marbled waves.
Yet after I shared the photo weeks later on Instagram, I realized that no amount of likes and comments could accomplish my goal of feeling known and accepted.
This isn’t the case for everyone, though. Some people find purpose in social media beyond personal gratification, and I saw that in Thailand and Cambodia.
Courtney Poos, a junior at the University of Arkansas, came on the same mission trip with a passion for capturing the reality of what we would experience in Thailand and Cambodia. She valued her role as a media source, sharing the experiences of global workers through media in order to help with fundraising through storytelling.
“I think that when a tool can be twisted in an extremely negative light, that is an indication that that tool, when used the right way, can be a world changer. And that’s what I believe about social media,” Courtney said. “It is a really beautiful place to share and to connect with people.”
Social media has found its place in many professions, organizations and businesses, whether it be for fundraising or marketing. Forbes reported that a 2017 survey of 5,700 marketers showed that nearly 70 percent are developing loyalty among consumers through social media and that people favor the brands they follow on Facebook, Instagram or Twitter.
According to Erik Qualman, author of Socialnomics, a book that delves into how social media affects businesses, the virtual communities play a large part in all professions and careers.
“It is imperative for social media to be an integral part of a company’s overall strategy,” Qualman said. “Social media is your customer today, customer tomorrow, employees, etc.”
This trip served as Poos’ test run in media missions, an occupation that uses photography, videography and writing as a fundraising tool for missionaries. Content she created would be pushed out through email and social media. With the purpose to record others’ stories, Courtney’s camera served as a gateway to meaningful conversations with people who she normally wouldn’t have shared such vulnerability with. She used her gift of photography to engage with and tell those stories.
Courtney sat down on the dirt floor of a thatched hut with Amma, the matriarch of a family belonging to the Akha people who lived in small villages in northern Thailand. Camera in hand, recording the interview, Courtney listened to Amma tell her story of survival, heartbreak and rescue. The woman, wrinkles woven deeply into her skin and gray hair hidden beneath a traditional headset, sobbed with her daughter, granddaughter and Courtney as she recounted devastating, beautiful and miraculous events in her life.
This was part of the reason she came to Thailand – to help those working in ministry, such as Amma’s son, continue fundraising for their organizations and missions through storytelling. Her son gives village children housing so they can go to a government school. Courtney also gave Amma the means to share the woman’s story with people all over the world. It showcased the Akha culture in a way others could connect with for the purpose of furthering Amma’s son’s ministry.
Courtney views social media as a platform to lift others up – show their reality, passions, joys and hardships.
“It allowed me to weep and mourn for the loss in her past and rejoice for the things the Lord has done,” Courtney said.
The way Courtney used social media on the trip impressed me, and I hoped to one day view the platform in such a healthy way. On the days I succeeded in avoiding Instagram, I experienced Thailand’s surreal Buddhist temples and bustling night markets without distraction. I found myself completely present in Cambodia’s rocky beaches and secluded rice villages.
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A market in Chiang Mai, Thailand, gets busier as the sun goes down one May evening in 2018. Photo by Emma Foster
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…
In my everyday, I could not live up to the pressure of my social media highlight reel, especially after traveling across the world to the unique beauty of Thailand and Cambodia.
After months of deleting my Instagram app and then redownloading it over and over again, I decided in July to throw the final pile of dirt over the grave of my Instagram. I pressed the “delete account” button. Heart pounding, I put an end to the online source that held the last five years of my life’s highlights. My past relationships, friendships, accomplishments and experiences were no longer on display.
I burst into my roommate EJ’s room to tell her about what I viewed as my latest accomplishment in discipline and going against the grain. “Goodbye anxiety! Goodbye stress!” she yelled.
“Goodbye self-promotion and insecurity!” I responded, my voice a mix of glee and shock. Had I really just deleted the whole account? I walked out of her room and down the hall, staring at the carpet, pondering my decision. I would miss the easy connection with others, staying up to date with high school friends and reminders of people’s birthdays.
Four months later, I do not regret my decision to delete my Instagram account. I miss the ability to quickly share the exciting and beautiful parts of life with people, but the relief that comes with the absence of comparison and social expectations is unbeatable to me. The only social media I consistently use is Facebook, but I do not have the app on my phone to curb the temptation to constantly get on the platform. I believe that deleting my Instagram account was personally beneficial because it took away that area of comparison, but I know everyone is different.
My everyday moments are richer and the pressure to impress creeps onto my shoulders less often. Followers and likes are no longer a stress for me, and I get the majority of people’s life updates from hearing about them face to face, even if that means I’m behind on the news by a few weeks.
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