Back in July, I deleted all of my social media. It’s been three months since I last got stuck in a doom-scrolling trance for three hours straight, and my mind has never been clearer. Deleting some apps shouldn’t be a big deal—certainly not worth writing an article about—but this clarity has changed how I view the role of social media in contemporary society. What I once believed to be mindless entertainment now seems to constitute a significant part of social identity.
When I offer someone new my phone number, with the explanation that I would have given them my Instagram handle if I still had one, I’m most often met with surprise and the declaration that “I could never do that!” At first, I chalked this up to a joke about screen addictions. Now, it feels deeper than that.
In the past three months, I’ve felt a strange sense of isolation from my peers — I don’t understand many of their references, and I’m the last to catch up on cultural hot topics. Not having social media doesn’t just mean missing out on TikTok dances and Facebook memes from my aunt. For the first time in my life, I’m out of the loop.
That statement might seem silly — even counterintuitive — when I still have access to plenty of information and online communication. Not having social media makes me less susceptible to misinformation, but it also means that I don’t know what others are thinking. I have gone from interacting with hundreds of people online per day to around ten or twelve. I no longer subconsciously filter my thoughts through the general consensus of my social media algorithm. Relying entirely on my own perceptions and reasoning about the world is liberating, yet somewhat intimidating.
Parroting something we see on social media can be a rite of passage in social situations—an acknowledgement that two or more people share similar perceptions, interests, or values. It grants a sense of conformity and allows us to make assumptions about others, especially in a polarized social climate. Referencing a piece of social discourse is an effective way to test the waters, so to speak. Of course, social media is not absolutely necessary for these types of interactions. Still, it dramatically increases our visibility into other social groups. It allows us to categorize others expediently based on minimal interaction.
It was not until I started meeting people without this safety blanket that I realized how much of my identity was constructed to be acceptable by social media standards. I don’t mean physically; I mean personally. Seeing more of just people’s thoughts on a daily basis than actual people made it easy to attribute false merit to the most prominent views I came across — even if those views were not reflective of my reality — and my individuality took a backseat. Now, I have far less to hide behind and no choice but to risk sharing my true self with others.
As scary as this can be at times, it has allowed me to reclaim a piece of myself that I didn’t realize was missing. The confidence I’ve built in my beliefs doesn’t depend on validation from the digital realm. I encourage those of you reading this to do the same. Even if it’s just a break, take some time to reflect on the origin of your beliefs and strengthen your connection with your personal values. You might end up loving it. I, for one, will not be returning to social media any time soon.