Digital Minimalism: The Experience of Leaving Instagram

I waited until a meaningful amount of time passed [for myself] since I closed Instagram to be able to write my experience of life outside social networks. Today I saw that it's been three months since I closed Insta, and at least this was a personal record. It's enough that our esteemed friend, Mr. Astarabi, can't ruthlessly throw snide remarks left and right and mock my incompetence in quitting. Although a true believer is not bound by excuses. He does his job. We also didn't get our hopes up that he wouldn't do his job.

Besides Insta, it's also been a month since I completely closed Twitter. In fact, two years ago, after a few years of serious activity that resulted in many friends and buddies, many of whom are also here, I deleted my Twitter account with all my tweets. A few months ago I created a read-only account to follow some specific accounts, which also turned into a failed project. I wanted to explain about Twitter here too, but I saw it would get long; I'll postpone it to another time because Twitter has more for me to talk about.

The story was that the amount of my doomscrolling had become pathologically high. The proof being that some of my senior students here at Polimi, whom we only had each other on Insta, their explore had become full of the garbage and filth that I had liked. Setting this aside, for myself, browsing Insta was like drinking water from a toilet bowl. It might have quenched the thirst, but it didn't feel good. I decided, like that person who one day threw his pack of cigarettes on the ground and stomped on it, to deactivate and give up its benefits for its harms. Although this process really wasn't overnight. It had been bugging my brain like a termite for months to distance myself. Ultimately, I incurred both expense and trouble when I got Cal Newport's book Digital Minimalism. Trouble because you can't find English books here. Although it was a good book, but true to form, I abandoned it at chapter three. Meaning, just as Mr. Newport walked up the steps of the pulpit and wanted to open his mouth for a sermon, I gathered the book and Insta together and threw them away.

But how do I feel now and what things do I think I gained or lost?

I lost the feeling of validation that likes give you. Of course, it had been a long time since this feeling was very prominent for me, and this itself was helpful for letting go and giving up. Although honestly, waves of the subconscious need for a "like" still come to me.

Regarding communication with people, I intentionally tried, for personal expediency, to minimize my availability and the responsibility of answering others, or to move in that direction. Deleting Insta made this very possible for me. Every time I was absent the whole day, when I checked Insta late at night, there were at least 7-8 different people who had each sent a few reels, posts, and stories, and well, I considered it my duty to answer and see. Or at least they were a burden on my psyche. This was eliminated, and I am truly happy about it and feel satisfied.

However, the previous point made my communication more limited. My friends who were merely in touch with me there or, let's say, whom I got news of from that channel, I no longer had news of. Is it a good thing? Probably not. But was it worth sacrificing for other benefits? For me, yes. Anyway, this is a personal decision.

Wandering aimlessly practically gives you the opportunity to get familiar with the content format of a platform. Very soon you see that everything is copied from each other, and all this copying is nothing but a desperate filthy act to get likes and views. For what? If there is a business mind behind it, for advertising and sales. If there is no mind behind it, like the majority of us users, it becomes dopamine addiction. I tried to direct the dopamine elsewhere. Did I succeed? That's debatable.

A lot of time was saved by deleting Instagram. This is undeniable and, of course, provable through a screen time tracker. But the story is that if you don't do anything to fill it, you practically haven't done anything special. I didn't want to stab an elephant with the saved time, but I wanted to be able to kick a cat. Even in that, I didn't have significant success. Because even with Insta, if the workload traffic was high, I wouldn't go to the phone. If the workload traffic was low, I would sprawl by the phone; because it was fun. Now the only difference is here that during low workload traffic, I don't do anything special or meaningful. Although I hope this void too can gradually find its replacement over time. One has to wait and see. Although I think this specific point will be a different experience from person to person.

We return to the question of whether I was able to get my dopamine from other sources? The answer for now is negative. Or at least a faint positive. Because in practice, no specific replacement has taken place.

Even if there was, it was temporary and abandoned early. But well, the very creation of space brings about this possibility and, of course, obligation to go for better alternatives.

A very positive point for me was getting rid of stories. Both from others' stories and from my own stories. Story, despite the good uses that can be found for it, has an inherent tendency to become putrid. Such that every time you refer to it yourself, you ask yourself: "So what was the point of me posting this on my story?" And probably the answer you give yourself, if there really is an answer for it, is not pleasant. Now at least I am safe from my own self spewing hate into the flood of stories. I have calmer nerves. And if I ever return and do this, you can guess the destructive dopamine addiction has come back to me.

Ultimately, the overall outcome of all this after three months of deactivating was positive, and I predict it will get even better. I'd like to add an addendum to this post, and state my opinion, if I don't get played and don't return to Insta. For example, after 6 months and a year. We'll have to see what happens.