On a recent trip, my sister asked her 14-year-old son if he wanted to send a postcard. “Why? I have Snapchat, TikTok, Instagram,” he responded, listing all his social media apps.
When she shared this story with me, we laughed, but I felt a lingering sadness. Before everything became instant and shareable, connection required effort, time, intention, and the willingness to be alone with your thoughts.
When I turned 16, my parents gave me a bike trip through France. I vowed to keep in touch. I bought postcards, wrote them in cafés, and mailed them home, hoping they would arrive before I did.
I used Instagram as a gallery for my photography
I joined Instagram at age 36.
I was excited to have a digital platform to promote my work. As a professional documentary family photographer, the app became a marketing tool.
My friend Chantel, with over 24,000 followers, told me how to succeed: post three times a week, at optimal hours, only show my best work, and write captivating captions under 25 words. I didn’t feel right sharing client images even with their permission; instead, I posted images of my children during their most quotidian moments — brushing their teeth, doing homework, practicing the piano. I agonized for hours deciding what to post and who liked it, distracting me from what I really loved, taking photos. My followers increased, but it rarely translated into more business. I stopped posting.
But I stayed on the app. I followed other artists. I took an interest in painting and collage and began following those accounts for inspiration. I was no longer seeing posts from people I followed as the algorithm bombarded me with tutorials, fashion, home design, art, nightlife, and products I didn’t know I wanted.
I set time limits on the app, but I overrode those settings and stayed on too long. I fell for ads, like a pair of fuzzy loafers that never arrived, and ended with me canceling my credit card.
My kids joined the app as soon as they could
My two older children had permission to join Instagram when they were 13, and I gave up with the youngest; he joined at 12. The kids sent me clips: the dog they wanted, the things they wanted me to buy, the life they wanted us to live. The algorithm now fed me information for my teenagers: how to study better (15-minute intervals), how to become successful (make your bed every morning). I was feeding the machine — and rotting all of our brains in the process.
I was nauseated. At 49, I wanted my time back. I didn’t need a stranger’s recipe for success. I needed to be more present. First, I hid the app from my home screen, but I knew it was still there, and the lure was too compelling. The solution was to permanently delete it. I still wanted to know what my kids were up to, so I relied on my brother to send me screenshots of their IG feed.
Six months after deleting the app, my daughter was studying in Paris for a semester. My boys and I went to visit her. It was our first family trip since my divorce five years earlier. I bought postcards again and wrote them in cafés. When we were hungry, we wandered until we found a charming place to eat. I practiced speaking French and took recommendations from the waiter, not an influencer. I was prone to expectations, and everything felt like a discovery.
I had more meaningful connections
When my 21-year-old daughter came home from college, we spent an afternoon strolling through SoHo, shopping for her spring formal. We took fashion advice from the salesperson, not a bot. While eating lunch, we saw a group of preteens recording a TikTok dance. We smiled, agreeing we did not need to see the final version. Watching them try, fail, and laugh was enough.
A week later, when my daughter was back at school, I received a postcard from her. Written on the back in her meticulous printed handwriting, “Thinking of you, Mom. Had a great visit. I love you.” That message is still taped to my fridge.
Without Instagram, my mind is quieter, and my material desires have softened. I am returning to what is important to me. I keep up with fewer people, and my clients don’t seem to mind. I am experiencing the beauty of life the way I used to and the way I want to.
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